Go Fell It On The Mountain: A Story of Saws, Rocks, and Raw Dogs - Kenneth Slocum, WWCM

In the beginning, there were crew members. Assembled from all across the U.S, said crew members had little to no idea where a six month commitment to the MCC would take them. For ten crew members and three crew leaders, this commitment meant diving headlong into the enticingly dangerous world of the chainsaw.

With apt enthusiasm, participants could be seen throughout the month of June hauling gasoline, bar oil, chainsaws, and a slew of other required chainsaw accessories up Feather Creek trail, just outside of Bovill, Idaho. Who would have thought, for a “conservation” corps it’d be so easy to find persons with the necessarily destructive attitude to fell tree after tree in an otherwise pristine forest, carving a corridor for less-than-experienced mountain bikers to enjoy?

The Joy of Saw was not lost on this set of sawyer newbies for the first two hitches. An increasing proficiency and appreciation of the chainsaw’s ability, the trees fell faster and faster and the larger ones garnered more and more hollers of joy as they fell precisely where the face cut dictated. Before long, all members gained an appropriate hatred of the cedar tree’s unnecessarily branchy lifestyle. 70+ foot larches became the sawyer equivalent of a nicotine fix; all enjoyed watching the Dr. Suess-esque giants slice through the thick canopy and land with a satisfying crash in the drainages and steep slopes we’d climbed through on all fours to find them.

After nearly three miles of forest had been cleared to make space for the mountain bike corridor, the time came to split the two crews (which had at this point become one large, unified crew, including a short powerful man perched on a tall chain-smoking man’s shoulders for higher work) and send them onward to new exploits. Team Raw Dog ended up with the opportunity to return to Feather Creek and dress up those three miles of felled trees, preparing it for genuine trail construction. The departure from the saw work we’d become comfortable with proved jarring. The feel of a McCloud handle totally threw off the group’s “work mojo,” leaving everyone uncomfortable with the prospect of genuine, non-mechanized trail work.

Some initial confusion gave way to motivation as the Raw Dogs found themselves within reach of their goal: making three miles of just sawed logs and pine needles into an obvious corridor, prime for the trail making. Seven days and over 30 collected wasp stings later, the corridor had been cleared of sticks, pine needles, and any branches lower than ten feet above the forest floor.

With newfound confidence regarding traditional trail work, team Raw Dog set out on their fourth hitch to the wilderness of Welcome Creek. After three hitches car camping, the task of backpacking (even a mere half mile into the trail) proved exceptionally daunting. Strike one: the bear hang. A cavalcade of failure, the crew learned the hard way that hanging nine days worth of six people’s food ten feet off the ground is, in fact, impossible. Between getting covered in ash, being eaten alive by mosquitos, and just generally lacking woodland skills, the whole thing could easily have been a sitcom story premise (if only it had taken a mere half an hour…).

After the foundations of wilderness living had been lain, the work could begin. Instructed to build trail through sections of large rock, the crew found themselves once again initially confused as to just how to go about the project. After a day or so of figuring out the Joy of Sledgehammer and Single jack, a definite pleasure emerged from the careful strategizing and heavy lifting of rock work. Massive stone after massive stone was moved in order to either make steps, or smash into tiny pieces (to the delight of the more destructive members) and fill in holes in the tread. A ten hour day making a five-stair section of trail provided a whole new perspective on the construction of the pyramids. Raw dogs everywhere also found themselves wondering if the Mayans and Egyptians got hammered regularly in the arms, shins, and face with shards of pointy rock. However bruised, lacerated, and exhausted, the crew maintained an adventurous spirit in making the best possible trail and loved every second.

Although challenging after growing accustomed to car camping, Raw Dog quickly gained a thorough appreciation of the wilderness. Spotting a rubber boa and a piliated woodpecker the first day served as reminders that all our noisy chain sawing in Idaho had prevented us from encountering any of the animal beauty present in the woods. Huckleberries, thimbleberries, wortleberries, and black currants served as reminders of just how delicious a forest can be in the summertime. Experience with the cross-cut saws and Ibuki blades served as reminders that, for all their pollution and noise and danger, mechanized cutting equipment is just way faster (though not quite as Zen). An abandoned miner cabin served as a reminder that as hard as any MCC crew works, their lives will never know the difficulty of true back country living. Vast scree and talus fields provided a phenomenal view not afforded by the closed-in canopy of Feather creek. All in all, the crew members (and leader) all found themselves appreciating Missoula’s back yard a great deal more from deep deep inside the heart of it.