We dragged into our Cedar filled campsite later than expected: hot and sweaty, tired from the 12 mile marriage to our full packs and heavy tools. Eight days worth of dinner awaited us there in bear proof containers, having been brought in by a string of well-kept mules and their long-mustachioed keeper. Later, after eating one of our customary tortellini dinners, a cloud of no-see-ums descended on us and hurried us into our tents.
The next morning: Disaster, or near disaster depending on the scope with which it is viewed. One of my crewmembers slipped off a log while crossing over a creek. The degree of her injuries were uncertain, so it was determined she would be taken back to the Moose Creek ranger station via horse. This went smoothly- only 12 hours passed from the time she fell in to the time she set foot at our adopted home. The rest of us waited for the next day, heavy thoughts solidifying.
We woke and learned our crewmember was being flown to Missoula. The next two days became a blur of backpacking and sawing trees out of trails (there is a reason they call it “cut and run”). One of the nights an inquisitive Pine Marten hopped into the middle of our camp, glancing at us and hopping into the brush. Beyond: A meadow filled with long grass and wildflowers, bordered by low mountains covered in firs and pines. The setting sun peeked out from behind them, washing everything in gold.
After clearing the designated trail we hiked back to our first campsite and started work on a 24 foot bridge. In order to do so, we felled trees with a crosscut saw- it was my first time doing anything like that. After the tree crashed to the ground, I felt powerful, humbled.
The rest of our hitch was spent limbing and debarking and cutting and moving the logs into place, laying the foundation for our bridge. We were glad to stay at the same campsite for a few nights, a welcome change to hauling packs every day.
On our last day, during our hike back to the station, I saw a wolf in the same field I’d seen three wolf pups a month prior. It walked from the trees to the middle of the field, stopping at the trail 40 feet away from me. It looked around confidently, it’s eyes never resting on me, though I could tell it had known I was there the entire time. It turned and ran back into the trees. I continued on my way.
It is not easy work we do, and not without risks. Being on an immersion crew based in a 1,000,000+ acre wilderness area, these risks are magnified greatly. But the reward: The quick glimpse of a rare creature, the feel of an ice cold creek around your aching feet, pushing yourself to the breaking point, and the rest afterwards; the beauty that surrounds you each early morning you wake- the rewards speak for themselves.
By the way, my fallen crewmember was given a clean bill of health in Missoula, and arrived back at the ranger station on the first day of our past hitch break, smiling and covered in dirt and sweat grime from the long hike in.
-from the rustic diary used by Andy Daleiden at the Moose Creek Ranger Station in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area, Idaho, July 24th, 2010.
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