Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Expect Nothing, Pull Saw, Slay, Repeat
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
I'll Tell You What
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Why Work in Wilderness
WRF
Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Wilderness Growth

Forrest reflects on his first hitch in the Bitterroot National Forest.

Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation
Moments in the Mountains

Bug Bites, Blooms, Boggy Boots, Big Sands, Berries, & a Birthday?

Josie Chaffin

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Wye Fire/Elk Summit Trail, Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest | Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

7/2/25-7/9/25

Mary and Jack (day 1) at “Cache Rock” right after we finished up work for the day.

I’m not too sure where to even begin with this hitch- Let me first say I believe it to be my hardest one yet. I know, you’re probably thinking; “Oh no, something terrible must have happened for her to say that”. That’s a reasonable assumption, yes, but not actually entirely accurate. I think what made this particular hitch so hard was actually the mental aspect. I don’t think I have questioned myself or my ability quite this much on any hitch yet, and that is saying something since I backpacked almost every day of our training hitch (in the Frank), and removed over 100 ticks from my clothes over the course of 5 days. This outing was something else entirely- Something of a mental test. 

Me and crosscut 4A a few miles into the ridge trail.

We began our work from the trailhead of Elk Summit in the Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest on 7/2/25. Upon arrival, we became breakfast for the mobs of mosquitoes who reside and rule over Hoodoo Lake. After rushing our setups to avoid being terrorized, work started immediately. Our initial tree was visible only a few feet into the trail. The first few miles of the trail were along the ridge, and not too impeded since it had been cleared the year prior. We moved through it pretty quickly, and were greeted promptly by some of the most beautiful views I’ve ever encountered (with only moderate effort) since we started our ordeal from the summit trailhead. We continued work as normal down the mountain, until the EOD on the 3rd, when we bumped all of our tools back to our trailhead camp after receiving a request in which we could not refuse: “You could be heroes.” 

I mean… What else can you say but “yes” to that? 

Mary and me, crossing the creek on July 4th on our Big Sands side quest.

So, on the morning of July 4th (happy belated independence day), we ventured into a side quest that had some unfortunate delays and consequences… but ultimately ended in a massive morale boost. We (the fellows) wandered upon a fork, and essentially climbed multiple miles towards Diablo Lookout, when in fact, we were meant to be climbing down into the trail known as Big Sand. That detour in of itself was a bit of a spirit breaker, when realizing the oatmeal you had for breakfast just went into climbing the wrong mountain trail. Once we were retrieved by a slightly distressed lead (sorry, Brendan) we got to work… just in time for the sky to open up on us. The first major tree my co-fellow Mary and I handled on this trail- dubbed Avocado- was massive. We weren’t at all sure how to clear the thing, which was basically vertical on a slope in a gullied trail- in the pouring rain, when Josh Page (the mythical SBFC Wilderness Program Director) arrived just in time. The three of us were able to slide multiple runners under the base of this 24”+ diameter log and essentially shove it off the side of the mountain (by the sheer power of Mr. Page’s ingenuity & some elbow grease). Multiple interesting trees followed, and as the day went on, the wetter and colder it got. By lunch, we were all huddled together on the damp remains of a broken bridge, soaked through, silently eating our wet, dirty tortillas. If I recall correctly, my toes were entirely numb. By the end of the work day, I felt a little delirious- certainly, it was the strangest Independence Day I had ever experienced. On the hike back out of Big Sands (which was back uphill), I fell approximately 4 times, one of which was directly and fully into a creek. By the time I arrived at the trailhead, I was shivering and the pinpricks of numbness had begun to travel from my fingers and toes further up my limbs. As the rig came into view, relief swept through me, but also a sense of dread at the fact that all of my belongings were soaked through and dripping, and that there was no way to actually  dry them before we returned to work the next day. 

The Selway giveth, and the Selway taketh away… and that day, it tooketh. At least, that’s what I was thinking at that moment. 

…Only…when I got to the rig, I noticed my crew sitting on the porch of the ranger station, laughing and smiling. One of them then came running, & told me to hop into the rig. It was a strange almost out-of-body moment, not at all the expectation for what I would encounter at the trailhead. 

The view from the Elk Summit ridge trail during a storm.

When we got in, they informed me that the man who was currently staying in the station had invited all of us in to dry ourselves and clothes by the woodstove, and to my later knowledge, even to make dinner there. Upon our return from our campsite where we retrieved our dry-ish spare clothes, we all huddled around the fire, chatting with the gentleman called “Jay” and his adorable companion, Shadow. It’s funny, as we sat there, wondering if the experience of the ranger station and the crackling woodstove were real, he thanked us for our work on the trails & what we were doing… when in fact, he was the one who ended up even making the next few days of work mentally possible. 

Turns out, all you need to make a wet fourth of July workday go from 0 to hero is a woodstove, a clothesline, a burner for hot dinner, and exactly 4 Walmart glowsticks. 

A tour of all the cuts on one big tree

Following that side quest, we were able to focus on the Elk Summit Trail once again. Although our boots, socks, and insoles were still mushy and boggy, everything else was dry enough to be functional (thank you, Jay). The next day (the 5th) we were able to make it to our campsite (after quite a while of searching) and get some work done. Brendan and I spent that afternoon and the next day working our way up the switchbacks, to work the saw down. By the 6th, boots were finally dry. I can distinctly recall a dinner conversation in which we unanimously agreed our socks were capable of standing on their own and had likely developed their own ecosystems (according to the smell)- but at least they were no longer wet. The next few days were spent working multiple trees that had fallen directly on top of the trail, long-way. The most memorable of them all was dubbed “Dookie”, which required approximately 10 cuts to be fully removed from the trail.

For a few of the nights in the Selway, all of us confirmed hearing loud crashing in the hours between 12 and 3 am, and repetitive echoing slamming, like the axe pole slamming a wedge into a kerf at random intervals. What didn’t help was that there was not any moving water nearby, so every sound was amplified the whole time. Even the incessant chorus of horseflies and mosquitoes under our rainflies did nothing to cover the sounds. On top of that, at every gust of wind through the massive cedars, limbs would tumble from the canopy, and lingering creaking sounds would bounce around the valley. 

My dinner uniform (evil, evil mosquitoes!)

We laugh about it now, but at dinner one night, as we were getting eaten alive by the never-dying cloud of mosquitoes, we considered the name “Halloween Hitch” for PP13, since it had been a bit of a scare so far. 

The last day of the hitch, we all woke up early. I recall waking up sometime around 3:45 am and beginning to pack in darkness. By 4:45 am, I was off on my own adventure. In total, we hiked 7 miles up, with thousands of feet of elevation gain, back to the summit. The thing that made the hike bearable was being able to watch the canopy open up as the climb progressed. Eventually, with soaked clothes and countless scratches, I was able to look down directly upon where we had been working, and take a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty and power of the Selway. 

At 8:58 am- Ironically, the exact time on the exact day of my birth 22 years ago- I dropped my pack at the back of the rig, and turned to look out over the field of blooming flowers, and realized in a moment that… maybe… I am capable of so much more than I ever thought I would be. I laughed a little bit, and found myself mumbling the words “Happy birthday, hero.”

Post-hitch surivval picture

Josie Chaffin

Gloucester, VA

Liberty University- Conservation & Environmental Biology

Josie grew up in Gloucester County, VA. She has always lived near woods, where she spent a lot of time as a child. Most summers were spent in Alabama or North Carolina, typically on family farms. These experiences are a big part of where her love of animals & the outdoors developed. She loves kayaking, camping, hiking, rock climbing, and traveling when she can. 

Josie is a Conservation and Environmental Biology student at Liberty University. She likes to hike recreationally, and has experience volunteering at a PVDR Donkey Rescue, Lynchburg Humane Society, the Virginia Institute for Marine Science, and more recently, Vic Thomas Hatchery. 

Josie is passionate about the wilderness because she believes it to be our most precious resource. 

Josie’s main drive for pursing this field is in ensuring the maintenance and preservation of our available natural resources and wildlife populations. Josie hopes to encourage a passion for the outdoors in others.

Wilderness in the Human World

Michael Decker 

Director, College of Graduate Studies | University of Idaho

Bargamin Creek Trail | Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forests

Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

June 19-23, 2025

I cast my prince nymph into the “chop” where Bargamin Creek meets the main Salmon River. Ben, a College of Natural Resources graduate student, sits on a nearby rock watching the sun go down over the Frank Church Wilderness. Above me, a small plume of smoke from our campfire breaks through the trees. I meditate on the smell of campfire smoke after a good, heavy rain. Several others from our group of graduate students bathe in the river to wash away a hard day of trail work.  

Last year, my colleague, Bert Baumgaertner, and I started the Graduate Wilderness Course at the University of Idaho (UI). The idea was relatively simple: get graduate students into the woods and orient their unique research interests around it. Why? Perhaps, the Wilderness can stop being just “out there” or just an experience had within the official boundaries of a Wilderness area. We want students to learn Wilderness principles that can be incorporated into non-Wilderness spaces. We aim to subvert an Edenic perspective and situate Wilderness within the human world.  

Hiking along the Main Salmon River

Environmental historian William Cronon states in his essay “The Trouble with Wilderness” that Wilderness is a human space. In fact, it is “the creation of very particular human cultures at very particular moments in human history.” We want our graduate students to understand that Wilderness can inspire a sense of care and responsibility that transcends its boundaries. Afterall, Cronon ends his piece with the image of a plant pushing its way through a concrete sidewalk implying that such an act of persistence is “wild” in the truest sense of the word.  

Jenn Ladino speaks to graduate students during classroom learning day

We partner with SBFC (among many reasons) because an essential part of forming a Wilderness ethic is to have a Wilderness experience. This, Bert and I believe, requires a degree of physicality, which our course achieves through the trail work required to keep the Wilderness open and accessible. You must feel your own body within the environment, which is often an uncomfortable experience. This is also in line with the namesake of our course’s funding source, Connie Saylor Johnson, a Wilderness advocate, who believed that all one must do is get out once in the Wilderness to be hooked. Once you see the Wilderness, feel it in your bones and in your soul, you will always care for it.  

Graduate students and Bert taking shelter beneath a large boulder

Our assigned project is to clear trees and brush along Bargamin Creek Trail #502. Earlier in the day, we had to seek shelter under a large rock because the rain was coming down hard. Students cleared trees with the “misery whip” or crosscut saw. They pushed cut tree segments off the trail by sitting four in a row and pushing with their legs. Now, I look up at our camp and see students who are tired, some letting the cold river water run over their aching bodies, eating snacks, journaling. Some are laying on their sleeping pads, hats over their faces, asleep. I think to myself, this is the point.  

As I walk back to camp, a student stops me and begins to cry. The experience is foreign to her, and she feels like her inexperience is holding the group back. I explain that she is achieving one of the most essential deliverables: she has become estranged from a space of comfort and familiarity. Thinking about it, the Wilderness is often described as a kind of homecoming, a return to a natural state that humans have adapted to over millennia, but our everyday world, where we spend most of our time, is increasingly less wild. I remind her of one of our course's pre-lectures when UI faculty member, Nate Moody, explained that one does not get to the Wilderness by mistake. You place yourself in the Wilderness intentionally. 

Graduate students clearing a large tree with a crosscut

The central assignment of the course is to write a Wilderness land ethic based on Aldo Leopold’s famous essay “The Land Ethic” from A Sand County Almanac. I gave students printed copies and notebooks prior to leaving. After trail work is done each day, they must read and write their own Wilderness land ethic. On the last day of the trip, we read these aloud to one another.  

And as we leave the official boundaries of the Frank and pass the riparian meadows of the Red River, we stop in Elk City, Idaho for burgers and shakes. The server jokes that they are “out of food.” An old man waves and say, “Welcome to Elk City.” Waiting for our food, we read the ethics aloud. Here is what strikes me:  

  1. Students can clearly link Wilderness ethics to their research. Architects discuss the principles of rewilding and incorporating natural light and shadows into the built environment. Natural resource students wrestle with non-intervention as a form of intervention. Art students meditate on ecological kinship and honoring the land. English students want to create simulated environments for those who cannot go to nature easily. 

  2. Everyone reframes the Wilderness as a community space. This is important because much of the history of the American West is predicated on the concept of rugged individualism.  

Students reading Leopold and writing their ethics by headlamp

Wilderness, we remind the students, is a collective space. This includes human(s) not just human. It takes the cooperation of government, non-profit groups, and individuals. It also includes the flora, natural processes like weather and fire, and the injured deer we watched limp up the hillside near Yellow Pine Bar, scared but unable to flee quickly as we hiked back to our van.  

About the Author:

Michael Decker is a director in the College of Graduate Studies at the University of Idaho and partners with several non-profits to do Wilderness outreach and education. He has also started the only academic conference on the study and preservation of fire lookout towers, The National Interdisciplinary Lookout Conference, and often discusses their relationship to Wilderness. When he isn't working, you can find him hiking, fly fishing, or trail running with his dog, Trout. 

Sawtoothed Smile

Sam Rardin

Wilderness Ranger Fellow 

Stanley Creek / Alpine Way Trails, Sawtooth National Recreation Area

6/18 - 6/25/2025

Snowy Sawtooths.

This hitch was exciting because growing up in southern Idaho, I've heard people talk about the Sawtooths a lot. I’d never spent much time there before. I was even more excited to hear that since it would be a frontcountry camping situation, I would get to bring a couple of extra luxuries. My coworkers brought camp chairs and blankets; I just brought extra food. I think I ate more than 2000 calories for dinner alone every day. I had given myself about 500 calories per dinner on the previous hitch and lost some of my valuable insulating fat, so I decided it would be bulking season.

The other important change I had made was an additional sleeping bag liner; on the previous hitch I was uncomfortably cold almost every night. Unfortunately this hitch was much colder, getting down to 26 degrees some nights. It even snowed on us for a day or two, right on the summer solstice. It was beautiful and reminded me of being a kid, but it was also wet and cold, and made it wicked hard to get out of bed in the mornings. I'm proud to have worked through it and love seeing the pictures we took.

Sawtooth National Forest- Columbia Spotted Frog

On the first day of work, I saw a tadpole the size of a marble. I asked our USFS project partner, Bryce, about what kinds of frogs lived in the SNRA. He told me that there weren’t many, but that it could have been a spotted frog. The next day I saw two adult frogs hanging out in the water next to the trail we were working on; then I saw the same two in the same spot on our way back to camp at the end of the day.

Seeing wildlife is without a doubt my favorite part of this work. At night we would hear coyotes and sandhill cranes calling, some nights we also heard turkeys and elk. I have never seen as many pronghorn as I did over this last hitch, and I think they are some of North America’s most evolutionarily interesting species, being more closely related to giraffes and okapis than any other American species like deer. On the last day of work the co-leader of our crew, Emma and I spotted a male/female pair of Western Tanagers, and we watched them sit in and spend time around their nest, right along the trail we were working. 

Sawtooth National Forest Bush Cricket on Jack’s glove

My coworkers saw how much I like to take pictures of the bugs I see out here and started calling me over or gently bringing bugs to me throughout the work day, which always made me really happy. 

On the second to last work day we hiked 12 miles, up to Alpine Lake and Sawtooth Lake. We took care of a handful of campsites around them, but the work was easy to forget since the views were so off the chain. 

This was my first time getting to work with packers and I got to meet the most handsome mule I could ever have imagined, Howard.

Sawtooth Lake

Alpine Lake

Howard the mule and me (photo by Jack Whitney)

Sam Rardin

Spokane, WA

University of Idaho- Communication

Sam grew up in Southcentral Alaska, dip netting, hiking, and camping. Finishing high school and college in Idaho provided many more opportunities to enjoy the outdoors, from cycling, skiing, and running in the high mountains of southern Idaho to trail work with the ICC in the north. Sam is always striving to spend more time reading and drawing.

South Fork Lolo Volunteer Project

Kara Knight

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

South Fork Lolo Trail, Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

6/18/2025-6/25/2025

Morning stretch circle and safety talk! 

I spent this hitch with seven volunteers, one other fellow, Josie, and our crew leader, Martial Jumper. The plan for the week was to work on the last six miles of the South Fork Lolo Trail, heading toward Bass Lake.

It was empowering to witness the strength and perseverance of a group of volunteers who put their lives on hold to join us in tackling this monster of a trail. The trail was in rough shape. Everyone set out on day one eager for the experience. About a mile from camp, we encountered over a hundred downed trees that had to be traversed. We arrived at camp that evening with cuts, bruises, and a very large goal ahead of us. The hitch continued to test us: we faced four days of cold, rainy weather and had a waist-deep water crossing ahead.

Two volunteers: Steve and Jon, moving a large log out of the trail. 

Slow mornings gave us time for coffee, tea, oatmeal, and leftovers from the night before (somehow, it always involved couscous). On those rainy days, we sat together and took the time to appreciate the environment we were in.  Melissa, one of the volunteers, kept morale high by making pancakes. Steve, Dave, and Jon made sure there was always a hot fire to return to, while Josh, Jake, and Janice kept conversations going. It was encouraging to see such a diverse group of people, with a wide range of interests and personalities, come together with the shared goal of improving this trail.

SBFC volunteer Josh taking on the deep cold water crossing! 

The workdays were challenging. Josie and I ran saw teams and loved seeing the excitement and pride from volunteers after a job well done. Everyone persevered through the difficult conditions. We spent the first few days working backward from camp, removing and cutting the trees we had climbed over on our way in. Once that section of trail was cleared, it was time to move forward past the daunting river crossing. The waist-deep water would have been manageable on any other trip, but the cold weather made it tough. After searching unsuccessfully for a log that spanned the creek, we all agreed that the only way across was through it. Once we made it to the other side, we took time to warm up and dry off before continuing up the trail.

Josie, Martial, and I, along with help from some of the volunteers, cooked warm, fulfilling dinners after long days of work. We gathered around the fire to eat and talk about the progress we had made throughout the week. After dinner, we prepared the next day’s lunch, usually stuffing tortillas with whatever dinner had been. The number one thing we learned this week: literally anything can be a burrito, including Alfredo.

Final group picture taken after a job well done. 

Kara Knight

El Cajon, CA

Colorado State University- Fish, Wildlife, and Conservation Biology

Kara Knight grew up in San Diego, California, but spent much of her childhood exploring Yosemite, where she fell in love with wildlife and the great outdoors. Her passion for wilderness conservation led her to Colorado in 2020 to attend Colorado State University, where she earned her B.S. in Fish, Wildlife, and Conservation Biology in 2023.  

Kara is excited to gain hands-on experience and continue developing her skills. She has a deep appreciation for wildlife research and habitat conservation. You can find her hiking, camping, or spending time with her cat Juni when she's not out in the field!

Eight Days on the Main Salmon

Serenade Gorbett

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Salmon River Trail #96 | Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness 

6/4-6/11/2025

Berkeley, Nick, and Josh posing on our jetboat headed to the confluence of Bargamin Creek and the Main Salmon River in the Frank Church Wilderness.

We started our hitch at the Vinegar boat ramp east of Riggins, ID. I had been looking forward to this hitch since I found out we would be taking a jetboat. It has been on my bucket list for a while. It was so much fun. Some of the rapids we went through were the height of the boat. I think I preferred it over the plane on our last hitch.

We were headed to the confluence of Bargamin Creek on the #96 trail. Tasked with building a rock wall and digging tread. The trail had a lot of damage from a fire a couple years back. Building the rock wall put about 6 years on my boots and pants. I’m really glad I had my embroidery thread so I could fix the seat of my pants. 

The crew with a rock wall they built on the trail!

The great part about base camping next to the Salmon River is getting to meet awesome people and the free food. One night we met some rafting guides that invited us to dinner. They fed us so much lasagna and cookies. There was even a bowl full of just bread that kept getting passed around until it was empty. It was truly a feast. 

The morning commute to work along the Main Salmon.

The other highlight of this hitch was the wildlife. Halfway through the week, I went on a hike along the river. I noticed a weird stick in the water. It turned out to be a river otter. He waddled onto a sandy beach and rolled in the sand like a dog. We also got to see bighorn sheep on the way back to Vinegar boat ramp. It was an amazing time and I can’t wait to get back out there!

Before

After

Serenade Gorbett

Wallowa, OR

Serenade is from a small town in Eastern Oregon. Her early childhood was spent going on cattle drives and pack trips into the Eagle Cap Wilderness. For the last 8 years, she has been living off-grid with her family. These years spent living in the woods are the foundation of her devotion to the wilderness. Her favorite outdoor activity is trail rides with her dogs and miniature mule (Cocoapuff).  She also enjoys gardening and going on hiking trips with her brother. Serenade’s future plans are to pursue a career in natural resource management.

Kootenai Creek Volunteer Hitch

Jack Whitney

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Kootenai Creek Trail | Bitterroot National Forest

June 4-11, 2025

Group photo in front of the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area boundary sign on Kootenai Creek Trail. From left to right Cora, Casey, Jeanice, Lana, Jeremy, Jack, Ted, Dennis, Martial, and Lisa sitting in the front.

For our first full eight day hitch into the backcountry, I was lucky enough to spend it with a group of ten very passionate volunteers and our crew lead Martial Jumper. Martial and I, with help from our volunteer program director Krissy Ferriter, managed to somehow pack enough food for a dozen or so people for over a week. We spent a handful of hours preparing for our hitch and began our journey the next morning. On our drive south on route 93, I saw the hills of Missoula slowly disappear in the passenger side mirror, and I saw the jagged and wild hills of the Bitterroot appear to my right side. 

When we arrived at the group site where we were to spend the next couple of nights before heading into the backcountry, we met the first handful of volunteers. Sported in our work gear, we all headed up to the trailhead and began our work week. I was responsible for leading the brushing crew while Martial was responsible for the crosscutting team. Clearing the first few miles of trail wasn't too bad, as it is heavily trafficked and the US Forest Service can readily keep up with maintenance. However, once we reached the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness boundary, the thickets appeared and we truly began our week of lopping and clearing water bars.

After the first day we all returned to camp and Teddy, Dennis, and Jeremy, three of the volunteers, showed us the game “Farkle”. A simple dice game where luck and strategy are at the forefront of success. Should you potentially sacrifice or “farkle” your entire turn of points to get more, or should you remain modest and ensure you retain the points into the next round? The game stuck around with us all week as we worked higher and higher up the creek. 

Making a big cut on the Kootenai Creek Trail

On the fourth day, we bumped our camp 5 miles into the backcountry up the creek trail. Carrying our remaining food, gear, and motivation up the trail we made a day out of just the hike up. Our camp was simple and we adjusted to it quickly, becoming our home for the time being. We continued to work through the scorching summer heat, covered in beads of sweat, but all without losing our perseverance. 

On the fifth day I was seated on a rotted log listening to the forest around me burst with morning life. I heard something large come down the hill to the left and soon a whitetail doe stood no more than ten feet away from me on the trail. We stared at each other, neither seemingly startled or dazed by the interaction. And the doe walked further down the hillside towards the river to drink. 

View from hike up to the Kootenai Lake, looking east.

On the seventh day Martial spotted an adolescent black bear watching us some 300 feet above us on the hillside. Again, our group of 10 people stared up at the animal as it returned its gaze. Within a few moments, the bear continued on up the hillside. That day, we made the 13 mile round trip to the terminus of our trail to see North Kootenai Lake. With the high ridges set beside the alpine lake, slender waterfalls deposited their icy water below. The falling water on the ledges reminded me of my brief trip to Iceland years back. The scope of the wilds here really became apparent then to me. I am standing not just in a place deemed as wild but a place that has yet seen what it means to be anything other than such. That next morning we left for home, all going our separate ways. I felt simultaneously relieved to return to Missoula, but left yearning for that feeling of vastness and tranquility understood only most truly while deep in the heart of nowhere.

Panorama of North Kootenai Lake.

Jack Whitney

East Greenwich, RI

University of Rhode Island- Environmental Science

Jack grew up in the suburbs of Providence, Rhode Island and had worked on organic farms in southern New England and abroad for a number of years. Having worked with poultry and livestock season after season, Jack grew to appreciate the fields of biology and environmental science. He had spent the larger part of his childhood and early adulthood exploring the White and Green Mountains to the North while also enjoying the rich Narragansett Bay coast. Jack thinks that the wilderness is an irreplaceable piece of all who seek its beauty.

To See is To Devour

Joshua Mendoza

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

5/26-5/31/2025

Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness

In "Les Misérables", Victor Hugo writes the words “curiosity is gluttony, to see is to devour,” and hardly a day goes by when I do not think about it. What a good word, gluttony, what other way to describe the dilation of one's eyes like the opening of a miniscule maw.

The crew flying into the Frank.

Each moment on the hitch reminded me of my own hunger. From those first moments looking out of the plane window onto snowcapped peaks and frozen alpine lakes, I was wide eyed and at the edge of my seat. Shortly after being greeted by ranger Andrew and his loyal cattle dog Josie, filling our bottles from the stream because these clear waters had been tested and were clean. Setting up camp by a ceaseless, rushing, and raging river referred to as Big Creek, I knew the sound of those million gallons would lull me to sleep each night.

The author enjoying a hard day’s work!

As I wipe sweat from my brow and look upon this lost garden, I am reminded of the frailty of the present, the vacuum of moments past, and the aching heat of the new. I am reminded what a privilege and an honor it is to take my lunch break in a meadow surrounded by balsam root and shaded by fragrant ponderosa.

I have told my loved ones that this is simultaneously the hardest and easiest work I have ever done in my life. Not one moment was spent bored and not one moment was spent without the taste of salt from the sweat on my face. Lots of bugs.

The crew on the trail.

The crew found the trail!

The author with the ranger’s dog.

Joshua Mendoza

Albuquerque, NM

New Mexico State University- Fish & Wildlife Conservation Mgmt.

Joshua Mendoza is a Junior at NMSU pursuing his degree in Fish and Wildlife Conservation Management. Having been raised in New Mexico, Joshua has an ardent desire to be immersed in the pleasures of solitude, often seeking dark skies in search of the Milky Way. With a background as a hiker, and more recently as a research assistant, he relishes the opportunity work hard and learn about the natural world while doing so.

Finding Human Connection in the Largest Wilderness Area in the Lower 48

Raegan Dick | Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Norton Ridge/Marble Creek Trail, Salmon-Challis Forest

05/26-05/31/2025

On the third day of this hitch, I was nervous. The day before, we had made it 2.5 miles up Norton Ridge— a daunting 5.5-mile trail that gains nearly 4,000 feet of elevation to an abandoned fire lookout deep within the Salmon-Challis Forest. It was a tough trail, and I knew it would only get harder the higher we climbed. 

As we climbed Norton Ridge that morning, we ran into a woman named Kristin and her two dogs. She lives on a ranch inholding within the wilderness— one we had admired from across the Salmon River earlier in the day. We chatted briefly about our respective work before continuing up the trail.

By the end of the workday, around 3.5 to 4 miles in, our crew decided to push to the summit and see the fire lookout. The temperature had climbed to 85 degrees, and most of us were nearly out of water, but the opportunity to explore the fire lookout was within reach, so we went for it.

Part of the fire lookout at the summit of Norton Ridge. 

It turned out to be one of the hardest hikes I’ve ever done. Even after four weeks out west, I’m still adjusting to the elevation— the 7,500-foot difference from my home in Michigan hit me hard. The heat, lack of water, and general fatigue from a full day of trail work compounded the challenge, but quitting wasn’t an option.

Me at the top of the summit. 

The fire lookout came into view as we reached the summit, and I knew it was all worth it. Now eye-level with the snow-capped peaks, it felt like you could see for miles and miles in any direction you looked, almost like being on another planet. 

As we began our 6.5-mile hike back to base camp, I was preoccupied with how relieving it would be to finally collect and filter water from the river once we were back. All of a sudden, I slipped down the toe of the trail and twisted my ankle. The pain was sharp, but I knew that the only choice was to continue forward, one foot in front of the other.

The note and radio Kristin left at our camp. 

A little over a mile from camp, we stop to filter some water to get us through the final stretch. Not long after we started hiking again, we heard a dog barking and a motor approaching us from behind. It was Kristin, and she had arrived to drive us back to camp. The immediate relief I felt was immense, and I was overcome with gratitude for this act of kindness. She had already been by our camp, leaving a radio and a note offering a ride to the trailhead for nearby hot springs. Though we declined, the gesture meant a lot. (*Editor’s note: The SBFC crew was traveling through a private inholding, hence the vehicle!)

By the time we made it back to camp, I was covered in dirt, sweat, blood, and tears from the day. As I washed the day away in the river, I found myself feeling overwhelmed with pure, unadulterated joy. I was so grateful for the wide breadth of emotions in a single day-– anxiety, exhaustion, and pain, overshadowed by grit, pride, and fulfillment. 

Oddly enough, one of the brightest moments of my time deep in the wilderness was the simple kindness of human connection– something that, along with the breathtaking sights and sounds of the Frank Church Wilderness, I’ll never forget.

My fellow crew members, Nick and Abe, led by Berkeley back down Norton Ridge. 

Inside of one of the buildings at summit. 

Raegan Dick

Berkley, MI

Michigan Technological University- Forestry & Wildlife Ecology

Raegan is entering her 3rd year as a Forestry and Wildlife Ecology dual major at Michigan Technological University. She has a deep love and appreciation for the natural world and views it as something to be honored and protected. She finds solace in unspoiled wilderness, where the absence of human influence fosters a deep connection to the land. In her spare time, she enjoys hiking, snowshoeing, bug hunting, hammocking, and reading. Passionate about environmental stewardship and conservation, Raegan is excited to apply her academic, personal, and professional experiences this summer with SBFC.

The Season Begins: A Week at Powell Ranger Station

Bryce Shull

Wilderness Ranger Fellow

Northern Rockies Wilderness Skills Institute, 5/19-5/23/2025

The season finally feels like it’s begun. After a week of indoor training in Missoula, my fellow SBFC Fellows and I were eager to get into the field and attend the Northern Rockies Wilderness Skills Institute (NRWSI) at Powell Ranger Station in the Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest. Nestled beside the beautiful Lochsa River and bordering the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, Powell is a perfect setting to kick off a season of stewardship.

Going into the NRWSI, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t know how big Powell would be, how many people would be there, or what exactly our classes would cover.

We left Missoula early Monday morning, making a quick stop at the Lolo Pass Visitor Center before arriving at Powell. My first impression was surprise— Powell was much larger than I anticipated. The station included bunkhouses, a gym, a barn, storage facilities, and more. Even more striking was the scenery: the Lochsa River flowed right next to the station, and the surrounding mountains made it feel like we were tucked into a hidden gem. But what stood out the most was the deep sense of community. Returning participants greeted each other like old friends, former coworkers reunited, and complete strangers bonded over their shared passion for wilderness stewardship.

On Tuesday, training began in earnest. All of the SBFC Fellows were enrolled in the Trail Maintenance Foundational Skills course. We loaded tools and gear into the rigs and headed to a nearby trail, where seasoned trail workers from across the country shared their knowledge and experience. We got our hands on crosscut saws, axes, Pulaskis, McLeods, and picks. For some fellows, this was their first time using these tools. Regardless of our experience levels, we all shared a common excitement for the week ahead and for the season as a whole.

Our second class focused specifically on crosscut saws. We learned how to properly care for, maintain, and use them in the field. We bucked logs, felled trees both large and small, and gained confidence using crosscuts and axes through hands-on practice.

One of the most memorable aspects of the week was the caliber of the instructors. Even those in seemingly simple roles had decades of experience behind them. On Monday, I picked up One Moving Part: The Forest Service Axe Manual—the definitive guide on axe use within the agency. Later in the week, I met Bob Beckley, who casually mentioned he was “just there to take photos.” It wasn’t until after our conversation that I realized he was the same Bob Beckley who wrote that axe manual. So even our photographer turned out to have a wealth of knowledge. (*Editor’s Note: Bob Beckley is also a longtime SBFC board member!)

What will likely stay with me the longest, though, is the sense of community at Powell. Everyone was there with a shared goal: to become better stewards of the wilderness. I spent time talking with crew members from a wide range of agencies and partner organizations. I found quiet moments by the river, helped feed the mules, and wandered the trails around camp. Learning didn’t stop outside the classroom either— guest speakers throughout the week shared insights and stories that added depth to our experience.

And, of course, I had fun. From dancing in the barn while The Pack Strings played, to throwing atlatls on the lawn, playing cornhole with other fellows, and simply getting to know everyone— I left Powell with more than just skills. I left with new connections, stories, and memories that I won’t soon forget.

SBFC would like to thank the whole NRWSI planning team, comprised of numerous Forest Service personnel, who dedicated their time, energy, and passion to making the 2025 NRWSI possible.

Bryce Shull

Springfield, IL

Southern Illinois University- Forestry

Bryce was born and raised in central Illinois. In high school, he began working for the National Park Service, which sparked his appreciation for protecting public resources. His love for hiking and camping grew even more after moving to southern Illinois to attend Southern Illinois University Carbondale. At SIUC, Bryce studies Forestry, focusing on forest ecosystems, resource management, and conservation practices. In his free time, he enjoys working on cars, playing guitar, hiking, and camping. Bryce is excited to gain new experiences with the Selway Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation and contribute to preserving our nation’s wilderness resources.

People Need Trails! Society Needs Trail Workers!

Berkeley Loper

Dates of hitch: April 3-8, 2025

Here we go again!

This year’s batch of seasonal crew leaders have laced up our boots, packed up our packs, donned our hardhats and leather gloves, and returned to the work that has made many of us who we are.

A wealth of experience surrounds me. There are 8 of us, hired on to lead crews of volunteers, youth, and Wilderness Ranger Fellows for the season, and we’re eager to be back to work after a winter away from the Wilderness.

Crew rides the jet boat!

Me and Emma after cutting a big ponderosa!

Our first hitch of the season was spent working on the Dwyer Smith Trail along the Main Salmon River. We began and ended our journey with an exhilarating jet boat ride courtesy of the River of No Return Lodge outfitters. Standing out on the deck of the boat and clinging on as we lunged through rapids, we couldn’t help but giggle with delight in the cold spray of the Salmon. After getting dropped off at Lantz Bar, a beautiful old homestead tucked away in the canyon with a few structures and a flowering apple orchard, the crew of 10 got to work restoring the trail that had recently been passed over by the Elkhorn Ridge Fire. We carried an array of tools with us, bringing rock bars, picks and pulaskis, hand saws and loppers, and our trusty crosscut saw up the switchbacks above our camp. It isn’t often that we get to work in such large and experienced groups, and it felt good to get our hands dirty for the first time this summer. Working together, we dug thousands of feet of retread to widen and stabilize the trail (over a mile of digging!). We moved big rocks and cut our way through brushy overgrowth. We restored switchbacks, repaired drainage, and crosscut our way through large logs that had fallen across the trail corridor. By the end of 8 days, we had cleared and maintained 14.5 miles of the Dwyer Smith Trail.

Working above the Main Salmon River.

We were treated to a cozy dinner at the River Of No Return Lodge after a week of work.

As we worked, our hands beginning to callus and our backs becoming sore and then strong after a season away, I thought about how so many people in our lives don’t quite understand what we do as trail workers. I often reduce my job to “I get paid to play outside” or “we just dig in the dirt,” so those around me feel satisfied and content with my answer. Because of our seasonal lifestyle, I think we’re often perceived as a bunch of misfits who haven’t quite grown up. We’re asked by older generations in our lives when we plan to get a “real job.” Aspects of this work feel too sacred to share with outsiders, and part of me is still afraid that even my friends and family won’t get it, or won’t see the value in it. 

Moody clouds one morning.

I’ve worked trails and conservation jobs all over the west, from Idaho to Montana to Oregon to Wyoming, and I’ve grown tired of watching my friends and coworkers feel the need to justify why they continue to play in the woods and dig in the dirt. If I’ve come to any conclusions in the last several months of watching National Forests across the nation lose their staffing and conservation nonprofits lose their funding while knowing first hand what an impact this will bring to our treasured wild spaces, it is that trail work is important, specialized, and irreplaceable work that undoubtedly has a place in the workforce. If seasonal trail workers continue to question their place in society, then so will everyone around us. When I look around at my seven fellow SBFC crew leads for the 2025 season, I see such a strong group of humans! This is a crew who knows what it’s like to hike 20 miles in a day with a heavy pack, or the effort it takes to move huge boulders or spend 10 hours digging tread. But this is also a crew who is creative with how they approach their work, who can make hard decisions on the fly, who knows how to balance risks and consequences while working outdoors in all sorts of weather conditions, and who cares deeply about the wild places we work in. 

When October comes at the end of each season of field work and my body sore and creaky, I often find myself wondering what it might be like to find another job. Something more stable, perhaps. Maybe something indoors. A job I care less about so I don’t have to give so much year after year. But when the snow starts to melt in the spring, I feel once again drawn to the wild spaces and the world of trail work. We keep showing up because someone has to; because if we don’t then these trails and all their history will disappear to time. We keep showing up because we believe that people need trails. And if people need trails, then society needs trail workers.

Now we’re two hitches down for the season and our little crew leader cohort has been working hard. Following our week on the Dwyer Smith Trail, Noah, Enzo, Brenden and I were sent out to begin the long awaited project of clearing the Stoddard Trail, a trail only accessed via a bridge that blew out nearly a decade ago. The bridge is being rebuilt, and once completed the trail will once again be open to the public. On Monday, thirteen Wilderness Ranger Fellows arrived at SBFC for the season, coming from all corners of US and eager to begin working the largest Wilderness area of the lower 48. I am thrilled to share this hard, special, sweaty, and fulfilling line of work with a new generation of trail workers!

Here we go again!

Berkeley Loper, Wilderness Trail Crew Leader

Berkeley has spent the first 26 years of her life beep-bopping around the Western US. Originally from Seattle, she went to school in Salt Lake City where she spent her time taking dance classes and playing in the Wasatch Mountains and nearby desert. Her first experience with fieldwork was with the Montana Conservation Corps in 2019 and after working trails and outdoor education jobs in Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming, she is stoked to be back for her second season with SBFC! On her off time, you might find Berkeley skiing, biking, trail running, crafting, and offering glitter (plastic-free!) to strangers on the trails.