From June 24 to July 2, 2006, I joined 13 other guys in working on a trail in the backcountry burn area in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Trails System on the Pistol Creek and Little Pistol Creek Trail.  All of this is in the Challis National Forest in Idaho.  In addition to the 10 guys who volunteered through the American Hiking Society's Volunteer Vacation program, we had three guys from the National Forest service and one guy who represented the Alliance for Wilderness Education and Stewardship. 

      These guys gave up a week of their time to work on these backcountry trails.  I can't tell you how much I respect them.  After hiking in about 7 miles, we discovered a part of the trail had been washed out or worn away to its minimum.  We worked on trail maintenance, cutting back overgrowths, building water bars, and then we focused on building a new section where it had been worn away.  That was a strenuous but rewarding job.  We worked our butts off and got it done on the last day.

   People ask why I spent my own time and money to go out west to work on a small trail section, working till exhaustion in the wilderness.  I don't really know, except to say that it feeds my soul... being outdoors, being part of a group effort, meeting new people, getting a tough job done, getting dirty.

 The Backcountry Horsemen packed our large backpacks in, while we carried our daypacks and did trail maintenance on the way in.  The Horsemen were disappointed with the worn-away section of the trail on the way in and grateful for how it looked ("like a four-lane highway") when we got through with it a week later.  The mules did some heavy lifting for us, and we were grateful.

Home, sweet home for the week.  First, you find a relatively smooth spot or clear off some rocks from your spot.  We got lucky.  This spot, not the intended base camp, worked out very well.  Stay away from me... I snore at night.  You better have everything with you that you need, because there ain't no REI around the corner.

On the first day as we hiked in, we did trail work, which made the normally 3-hour trek into a 7-hour one.  That's okay.  Here we came across a felled tree and used a crosscut saw to take it apart.  Tool safety is key.  We carried the tools in lopped branches and expanded trails where we could.  Around noon we realized we had better haul butt it if we wanted to set up camp before dusk.

Here, Jim, Derek, and I had just finished building a water bar...much harder than you think.  The idea is to divert water flowing down the mountain from the trail so that it doesn't erode the trail.  You need lots of rocks and the right size and shape for the rocks.  It's as much art as manual labor.

This is the section that was worn away.  In the foreground is the last part of the trail before the section needing repairs.  The trouble is not only cutting into the side of the mountain to widen the trail, but that you need boulders and rocks for a supporting rock wall, both above and below the new section of trail.  And many of those huge rocks come from on the mountainside above the trail.  As you slide those rocks down to the trail, the trail section you just cleared fills with dirt.

Other boulders are in the middle of the trail.  They're very useful, except  they are never where you want them to be. So you take forever with a crowbar/rod to pry them out of the ground and then flip them to where you want them -- always uphill.  It can take an hour to move one boulder, because you patiently stack small rocks under it.  It's all physics.  Dangerous physics.  It is amazingly laborious.

Do you see a trail there yet?  Not really.  Patience.  The trail needs to be about 3 feet wide eventually... and stable, which is what the rock walls are all about.  Remember, this was generally done in 90+ degree weather, with little shade, on the side of the mountain.  Stay hydrated, pace yourself, and make fun of your buds on the trail -- that's how you keep going.

On the other hand, we did have one or two thunderstorms.  Sometimes they would pass by quickly, and sometimes they would linger for a while, just like the gas everyone was passing back at camp.  Brad looks real happy to be munching on his apple.  There's nowhere to take refuge, so you squat down low when you see lightning and count off to make sure everyone is safe.  Remember to take your raingear in the morning with you to the work site.

If you're a fool and fail to bring your rain jacket, because when you started out that morning it was perfectly sunny with blue skies all around, then you deserve to get wet.  But since I always keep a spare Hefty bag in my daypack, I had that at least.  However, you can see I look like a moist eggplant.  I did bring my raingear the next day.

Rainstorms there are amazing; the lightning is impressive and the rolling thunder is clearer than you'll ever hear it.  On the other hand, don't expect to be refreshed afterwards.  The heat lingers and the humidity increases.  And you just keep on working.

Work continues on the new section of trail.  Basically a few guys go up the side of the mountain and look for good size rocks and boulders.  Using pulaskis and crowbars, they dig out the boulders and pry them loose.  Then they slide them down the mountainside to the trail; you don't roll them, because then they'd roll over the trail to the river below.  Then you lift or flip the rocks with a crowbar to where they are needed uptrail.  And then you clear the trail again where the dirtslide just filled it in.  Like Sisyphus in Greek mythology, you do that over and over.  And get the heck out of the way if someone above yells, "Rock!"

"More rocks, please"  Gotta love Lance's song.

Taking a break at lunch, you can see the majesty of your surroundings.  You can also see how steep it is and how far down it is, so working on these narrow paths, you always have to think about your safety.  That gets tougher later in the day when you're hot and tired and losing focus.

You can also see evidence that this is a burn area (from 2000) in recovery.

On the last day of work we finished the trail.  I can't tell you what a sense of real accomplishment it was for the Rock Crew.  Every rock there was moved by hand.  Remember how narrow that trail was at the beginning of the week -- maybe a few inches?

We weren't always on the trail.  Mornings Larry and I cooked breakfast and made coffee for the gang.  Gots to fill those tummies for the day ahead.  And in the evening, we had great cooks preparing dinner.  Maybe it was the sense of exhaustion, but the food tasted so good we went back for seconds, thirds...

We had some great talks around the campfire.  And then there was the belching.  And the farting.  You know, guy stuff.

Lunch time was whatever you packed -- usually PB&J on a bagel, with an apple or some trail mix.  Here I was sitting on the trail, wolfing down my bagel, when a butterfly attacked me.  The killer butterfly is perched on my hand and didn't seem to want to leave.  Was it my scintillating personality, the sugar in the jelly, or my pheromones?

Oh yeah, I'm bad.  Awfully close to the edge there, I am. This must have been in the morning, because my shirt isn't soaked through with sweat yet.  You usually wore a long-sleeved shirt for safety, even though it was hot as blazes out there.  Same thing with the long pants. I look okay in a helmet... maybe I'll join a road crew somewhere.  No papers to grade.

At the end of the day, we walked back to base camp.  The river was not only a magnificent sight to have every day, but it provided our drinking water (which we filtered, of course).  In addition, a few of us brave souls came back to camp and walked down to the river for a quick swim.  I say "quick" because the water temp must have been around 50 degrees.  So you dunked yourself in, tried to stay down as long as you could, and repeated.  It was awesome.

Evenings brought moments of quiet and reflection.  After the intense daily work and the swim in the river, you came back, changed clothes, and unwound as dinner cooked.  Sometimes you just have to step back (but not too far) and survey what is all around you.  The wilderness reaches out to you.

Brad relaxes and reflects on what he got himself into.  Brad's Alliance for Wilderness Education and Stewardship is a new enterprise dedicated to developing in people a sense of understanding wilderness areas and in teaching people how to be good stewards of these areas.   He's a great leader, and this enterprise (a joint venture with the National Forest Service and getting volunteers through the American Hiking Society) was the first for AWES; there were others throughout the summer.

Don't ever take water for granted in the wilderness.  Keep lots of filtered water on hand.

Lance.  What can we say about Lance except that he has been everywhere in the outdoors, done everything, and has a story about it that will be you laughing.  He really does have two legs; that's just the photo.

The horsemen were much happier when they came back at the end of the week; our work amazed them.

The best damn group of trail workers ever.

At the Forest Service station, before we went up the mountains, we got to take in this beautiful scenery.  Wildflowers, meadows, and mountains in the background.  If you've never seen something like this in person, then you need to.  If you have, then you understand what stewardship is all about.

Through the meadow runs this shallow, crystal-clear stream, a preview of the clean river we camped by.  Nature is amazing if we don't ruin it.