The Western Wildland’s Rite of Passage
By Bobby Grillo, Regional Director of Western Wildlands
Each spring the Western Wildlands (WW) region of Montana Conservation Corps sends our new Field Crew Leaders on a backcountry hitch into the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness, to clear the Selway River Trail (#4) for the Nez Perce Clearwater National Forest (NPCNF). We choose to send our people to this incredible place in the Northern Rockies at this time of year for several reasons. First, this country is low elevation (2000 feet) and is accessible at a time when most places in the region are under snow. Secondly, this is an opportunity for new leaders to experience an authentic backcountry trails hitch while learning from WW staff who are present and support the experience for the full eight to ten days. Finally, this hitch has gained somewhat legendary status in the region as a rite of passage for any WW Crew Leader who goes through our Leadership Development Program. Completing this hitch ensures that a crew leader in this region has gained valuable trail maintenance skills, has had the opportunity to interact with project partners as they will during the field season, and has become immersed in fairly complicated hitch planning details. Most importantly completion of the Selway hitch ensures that Crew Leaders have endured the discomfort and hardship that the clearing of the #4 trail imparts at this time of year. By pushing through adversity and overcoming the challenges of being on an early season backcountry hitch, leaders come out the other side with confidence, increased competence, and an understanding of exactly what it takes to be a Crew Leader for the MCC.
April 2019 marked six seasons since I had left the comfort of my office, abandoned my obligations to my family on the home front, and embarked on any portion of this trip. It has always been easy for me to make excuses why I could not go, with workload and atrocious weather being my top two! The goal of the trip is to maintain the trail to the Moose Creek Ranger Station, which sits roughly 26 miles from any access point into the Wilderness. With some good planning, MCC crews can also clear the trail upriver 15 miles from the guard station to the boundary between the NPCNF and the Bitterroot National Forest. However, if a person does not commit to the entire hitch experience, it becomes difficult to join the crew at any point along the way. And since I generally don’t have a spare nine days to spend with the crew, I usually just re-live the experience through pictures and stories back in the Missoula office.
However, there is an ace in the hole when it comes to accessing the guard station: a backcountry airstrip and an outfit in Hamilton Montana with the expertise to fly people and gear into the Wilderness. This year I intended to take advantage of this opportunity. The USFS has generally asked us to limit the amount of flights we take to support this trip, but this year gave us the green light to fly the entire group into Moose Creek. The thought behind this decision was to limit the number of miles the crew would travel with full packs, to allow them to feel stronger and be more productive on the trail since they would walk less under heavy loads. In years past we would provide one resupply flight of food for this trip, right in the middle of the hitch, after leaders had hiked and worked the 26 miles to the ranger station. Spring weather is fickle and flying a three seat airplane over the Bitterroot Mountains requires a window of decent weather. Flying 15 plus people, nine days’ worth of food, and the gear and tools required to do the work, was going to take eight flights and a really big window of good flying weather.
My plan was to wait and see when the crew would be able to fly in and then switch places with MCC’s WW Program Manager, Dylan Barbash, about halfway through the hitch. Dylan flies out and I fly in, then hike out 26 miles to the Race Creek trailhead where our vehicles had been previously stashed. In doing so, I would be able to connect with this group of crew leaders and some new staff in a way that I hadn’t been able to do for many seasons. The window for mobilizing the crew finally came on a Friday, and my opportunity to travel was looking to be on the next Tuesday.
Flying in to Moose Creek is an incredible treat; the trip over the glaciated valleys and craggy peaks of the Bitterroots is nothing short of spectacular. The quick flight ends rather abruptly, though, with a hard left banked turn and a smooth landing onto the grassy, backcountry runway. As the plane rolled to a stop, I peered toward the idyllic wilderness campus to see the smiling faces of the MCC crew. They were five days into the hitch, and, after a few minutes of checking in with folks, it was clear that the journey had been going really well so far. I had brought in gallons of ice cream, and we sat around the station rejoicing over the delights of sugar, the setting, and the marvel of flying into such a remote location. The report I received from staff upon arrival matched my perception of what was happening: people were stoked to be out working in the wilderness. Typically, when the resupply flight comes in, an injured crew leader flies out. Indeed this year, some folks had taken a few lumps. Megan had some serious blisters and Spencer’s Achilles tendons were barking, but neither seemed to doubt that they could finish what they started. Dylan was the only person to leave the wilderness that day on the flight back to Hamilton. That evening we settled into a great curry and some delightful veggie pasta, played games, and talked about the game plan for the coming days. I was pretty excited about the adventure that was to come.
We would spend the next three days and two nights split into two groups, hiking and working as we made our way towards the trailhead. WW Field Coordinator (FC) Tori Arnsparger would take a small crew of five and hike twelve miles on that first day, passing by some project work to position themselves to tackle what was going to be the heaviest section of trail to work on. The larger group, supported by FC Will Merritt, was to split the work, and the walk, into three eight-mile days of cutting trees, clearing drains, and performing re-tread on the trail as needed. Within each of those groups, pairs of Crew Leaders served as the “crew leaders of the hitch,” lining out the rest of the teams, conducting safety talks and stretch circles, interacting with the project partner, handling radio duties – essentially practicing what they would be doing in two months when they received crews of their own. All along the way, staff provided guidance, support, and training on how the work should be completed and how to safely travel and live in the backcountry. It’s a great model. It empowers people to take on an authentic leadership experience, including the opportunity to receive real-time feedback from the experienced staff that was present on the trip. (We were also fortunate enough to have MCC Staff Crew Leader Clint Kingery along as well as USFS Wilderness Ranger Anna Bengston, both veterans of working in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness and Moose Creek.) Whether folks were learning the nuances of putting up a bear hang, dealing with the gravity water filter, or problem solving tricky binds of some downed, dead trees, the opportunity to learn and practice new skills were endless on the #4. This is the case each year on this hitch, there is always plenty of work to do, and that is partly why we go.
However, what is different about one year to the next is the cast of characters that are along for the ride. Despite the fact that I’m rarely in attendance on the annual Selway trip, I have learned over the years what constitutes a good trip from a bad one through debriefs with staff and CLs. How much it rains - and it always rains in April on the Selway - factors into the trip synopsis for sure. But the real indicator of success is how well the groups responds to adverse conditions, to the difficulties of that first backcountry hitch of the season - before legs and backs are fully ready for the work. It is the collective attitude of the group that ultimately dictates how well the hitch goes. It is how well they endure that bit of hardship that is truly telling.
Backpacking is inherently hard. Backpacking with trail working tools is harder yet. Working trails, while you are backpacking, is an entirely different level of difficult. I tried to do this on my first day out with the crew. I loaded up, carried tools, put down my pack when there was work to do, and put it back on when it was time to keep rolling. My back was a hot mess by the time I got to camp that evening. But I had a big smile on my face. I was smiling because I had spent the day watching people working at something they felt passion for, offering assistance to one another, laughing, singing, grunting, and thoroughly enjoying an experience that most people would rather learn about from reality television than endure themselves. This particular group of people embodied the spirit of PMA - Positive Mental Attitude - which could arguably be the most critical attribute of being a trail crew leader. We talk about PMA often at MCC. Those who can conjure it generally thrive. For those who can’t, they struggle. This was what impressed me most about this group, unshakable PMA and, on top of that, a sense of comradery that had been established through the actual experience and the intention the group had to its purpose – to do the job really well and learn the craft of crew leading in the process.
I slept well that night in my tent and awoke to what is a rarity on the Selway – an April bluebird day. The choice for me this second day of hiking was clear, bust out some big miles to catch the other crew and be able to camp and spend time with them. This option afforded me some morning solitude, walking with my thoughts about the rawness of this place and how lucky I felt to be there. I also felt inspired by the company I was in. I had spent the day with such a great group of people and was about to spend time with the second half of this incredible bunch. I was excited. I was also grateful to not have to take my heavy pack on and off all day, avoiding the one thing that aggravates my back more than anything else – trail work. For that I was thankful as well.
It was late morning when I caught up to Tori and company. They were taking their morning break on a beautiful, white-sand beach, hanging out with Wilderness Ranger Anna. We took some extra time to marvel over the fantastic weather and share stories from the previous day’s adventures. Anna has been providing mentorship and guidance for our immersion crews that spend their season at the Moose Creek Guard season for as long as I can remember. She is the epitome of what a quality partner is for the MCC – she cares deeply about our mission and values the opportunity for young people to experience such personal growth over the course of a field season, all while working hard in the country that she has grown to love. Anna was to be hiking all the way out to Race Creek on this day, and I took the opportunity to walk and talk with her, intending to meet the crew a few hours down the trail at our next camp. This was a treat. My typical interactions with project partners in my workplace have become transactional: how many weeks, start dates, end dates, financial plans, modifications, invoices, blah, blah, blah. Today we talked about great crews from years past, weird moments that occurred in the field, and her travels to warm places during her seasonal lay-offs. We even ran into a former MCC immersion crew member who had been backpacking up the Selway. He had a fly rod in his hand and a big, tangled mess of curly hair that appeared to be headed toward dreadlocks. When I first laid eyes on him, he appeared more wood elf than wilderness traveler. We caught up on the river and talked about the deadly effects that persistent warmer-than-normal temperatures were having on the Western Red Cedars in the area. It was fun, and he seemed really happy. I couldn’t help thinking that if not for his experience with the MCC, he certainly would not have been frolicking, on time away from work, in a place he too came to love.
Time, distance, and camp locations on the #4 are usually referenced by the space in between the small, tributary creeks that run perpendicular to the main course of the river - Pinchot, TeePee, Ballinger, Tango, and Three-Lynks to name a few. These waterways are incremental milestones signifying how close one is to camp, or, better yet, to Race Creek and the end of the trail. Anna relates the distances in between these creeks as roughly how long it takes to get from one to the next, rather than miles. If you ask her for an approximate mileage to where it is you need to go, she’ll stop walking, go through some wilderness calculation in her brain, and give you a solid ballpark answer as to how far in linear, trail miles it is to your destination. I only asked how many creeks we needed to cross to get to my destination, Renshaw Creek and the glorious white-sand beach that was awaiting me and the crew. My answer was, “two creeks, close to an hour”.
The crew and I rendezvoused on Renshaw beach around 4:00 p.m. By this time the temperature had climbed to over 70 degrees. The water of the Selway was ripping with the melting snow of the high country, and nothing felt better for this crew than taking the next half-hour to rejoice on the shore of the river. What ensued was a vigorous wading session for the ages. Mindful of my presence and the MCC swimming policy, these hot, dirty trail workers cooled their bodies and celebrated the day, in care-free, playful fashion. We all then spilled naturally into camp chores, setting up the kitchen, digging a latrine, maintaining tools, and finally establishing personal tent locations. It is hard to beat the incredibly fine sands of the Selway as a base layer to set your sleeping kit upon, and all were extremely content with where they would rest their bones on this final night of the trip.
What ensued over the course of the next four hours, well past the normal bedtime of a trail worker, was really special. We ate a classic MCC backcountry meal of what I call the wet burrito. The cook prepares a tasty mixture of dehydrated beans, rice, spices, and gobs of cheese, all with a high water content. Brave folks will try to wrap this delicious mess in a tortilla and hope it doesn’t all pour out the bottom. Those a bit more civilized will rip pieces of tortilla and plop them into the mixture, using a utensil to deliver the meal to their mouth. Either way, trail food tastes really good. We shared the rest of whatever chocolate treats we all had left, took care of dishes, and retired to the beach for the grand finale of the hitch – the campfire. It was glorious: incredible stars, fun stories, podcast recommendations, and a sheer and utter feeling of genuine content. It was another glorious evening, with a fine group of people, oozing with PMA!
The crews were reunited with one another late morning on that last day on the trail. The crew that was camped at Renshaw Creek and I had been working on clearing a large slide, whose debris had wreaked havoc on a tiny creek, causing its flow to pour water in a variety of directions over the trail. It was an exercise in primitive engineering that consisted of moving big rocks, sticks, and mud to actually expose the trail tread and then direct water to flow off the trail. We had just about finished this endeavor when the other posse rolled down the trail. It was an awesome reunion of smiles, high fives, and great energy. It was apparent that the well-earned end of this trip was near.
We all shared one last meal together at lunchtime, after the final creek crossing of the trip. It was a chance to assess how well people did with their personal food planning, sharing the last bits of salty snack mix with a friend. It also gave us the opportunity to see how the blisters on soggy feet were looking. Usually when the end of a trip is so near (we were about an hour from the rigs) people start to get irritated and want to boogie - rarely do you see people content to continue to linger in the woods. For me it was a telling moment, perhaps the defining moment of the trip. These people really like the company of one another, they love being in the field together doing this work, and they were not quite sure that they wanted the hitch to be over.