Bluebird Day: Girls' Night Out

Today I returned from a typical event in a very untraditional setting: girls’ night out in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness. Normally, this is a social happening that occurs on Friday or Saturday nights and involves female friends getting together to dress up, socialize, and generally have a terrific time discussing news and memories. Yesterday’s girls’ night out included all of these necessary requirements: we dressed up in our backpacking garb and even scored extra style points by donning super-fashionable down jackets, patterned fleece pants, and even color-coordinated backpacks. We chatted the whole seven miles, laughing about funny times that have occurred during Semester in the Wild.

When we arrived at our destination, we even met up with some new friends who happened to be two female U.S. Forest Service wilderness rangers. Perched on a rocky beach at the confluence of the Middle Fork and Big Creek, darkness gathered around us like a cloak as they told our three-girl group all about their adventures in blizzards and rain, encounters with quirky visitors, and spotting enormous mountain lion tracks. We told them about our hike to Taylor Ranch from Big Creek, which was cut short due to a forest fire, and all of us took pleasure in a little mouse that was skittering around us on the rocks, occasionally summoning the guts to climb onto our dusty hiking boots. Returning to our own tent, we reminisced on how neat it was to see two women working in the wilderness. These women were so friendly and approachable, and we felt as though they had offered us a looking glass into which we could gaze and visualize our own futures.

Over the summer, I worked as a wilderness ranger intern in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. My internship consisted of going on “hitches”, or periods of service, in which I worked with other crewmembers to clear and maintain trails for hikers and stock users. I had the privilege of working with two other females for my first hitch, and they helped me learn how to use a cross-cut saw, chop trees with my “inner dragon”, identify and consume edible plants, and, most importantly, how to persevere, even when my weary feet felt as if they had been chopped off and were no longer connected to my body. One night, after a particularly long day of chopping fallen trees and hiking for nine hours, we arrived at Fish Lake cabin, a picturesque little spot in the middle of lovely, quiet, absolute nowhere, which seems to be increasingly rare in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. We watched fog roll across the airstrip, covering the herd of elk grazing a distance away, and celebrated the summer solstice peacefully, telling stories as we sat around the light of a Coleman lantern. Although I was exhausted, I was extremely happy in the simplest of ways: getting to know two wonderfully genuine people and having the chance to explore this landscape. Throughout the summer, I had the opportunity to work with a number of other female crewmembers, with whom I felled trees, cooked meals, exchanged advice, and discussed future education plans.

I used to think of the term “feminist” in a somewhat negative light, envisioning women who got upset when a man held the door for them, instead of considering it a decent, courteous act. However, now that I’ve been in and out of the wilderness for four months, I find myself believing in the power groups of women have to accomplish truly amazing feats. I didn’t believe that I would be strong enough to saw through a cedar tree that was 42 inches in diameter, or ascend and descend 6,000 vertical feet in 11.5 hours. I didn’t believe that I could become someone who thinks of hiking seven miles as “only” seven miles, and I certainly didn’t think that I could casually haul a 50-pound pack up and over rocky peaks. I always seem to return from female-only trips into the wilderness feeling inspired by the women around me who are spunky, fun loving and completely hardcore. Through my summer and fall in the wilderness, I have become not only physically stronger, but also mentally stronger. I know what it’s like to reach my physical limitations, and I know how disheartening long hikes can be. I’ve experienced the challenges of working and living in rugged, unforgiving wilderness settings, but I have been fortunate enough to share these challenges with many lively women, who taught me about the true power of living in the moment, friendship, laughter, and putting one foot in front the other.