The Spark That Changed My Life--Part 6 {A New Road}

A New Road

I was about halfway through the semester and not super thrilled about most of my classes. When registering for those classes before I left for Philmont, I had prioritized online and late-start classes. I figured if I did that, I wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting ready for school since I would be getting home two days before school started. Of course, those parameters narrowed down my options quite a bit and I just went with whatever would fit in my liberal arts degree and seemed somewhat interesting. By the time I had decided to come home a few weeks earlier, it wasn't worth trying to figure out what I'd rather do and rearrange my entire schedule. But at that point halfway through the semester, I started wondering why I did that. Even tho these classes technically counted toward my current declared degree, they still felt like a waste of time for the most part.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I had learned and experienced over the summer. Although reminiscing my experiences at Philmont was pretty normal, this time it was different. The WFR training, the SAR training, the fire and forest ecology, the incident command and emergency response systems. I began thinking about what I could do with all that. My first thought was forest ecology. But what would I do with that? Be a park ranger? It was an idea but wasn’t right.

One day, I was talking to Jon, who I had met at the WFR course, and he mentioned that he had heard about ski resorts who hired WFRs to work there year-round. Although I don't have much experience skiing, this idea made me excited. And even if it wasn't ski patrol, I could be a medic for a SAR team. Doing something in the medical field had never once in my life interested me. But suddenly, the idea of wilderness rescue and medicine sounded so interesting. Before I knew it, I had a whole two-year plan to go through the EMS program at school and then move somewhere where I could get more wilderness training.

This past semester, I completed the Emergency Medical Responder (EMR) course, and I’m registered for the EMT program next semester. Although my life plan is continually evolving, this last makeover has probably been the biggest to date.

---

Believe it or not, this 6 part series is the shortened version of what I've written and continue to write. If you’re still interested in reading more, let me know and I’ll give you access to the longer version.

The Spark The Changed My Life--Part 5 {TSI}

Tree Stand Improvement

During the summer so far, there had been too many staff in base to open the staff dining hall. Now that the staff had been whittled down to only a few hundred, the staff dining hall opened for breakfast just in time for the first day of TSI crews. Another three weeks of TSI with completely new people was an overwhelming thought but the cozy atmosphere of the smaller dining hall soothed my tired and anxious self.

I headed to the Welcome Center where I was to meet my new crew. I knew not a single person on the list so I wandered around the picnic tables under the pavilion trying to figure out which group of people was mine. After asking nearly every group there if I was supposed to be with them, I finally found mine.

Armed with my day pack that was beginning to show some significant wear from the summers work, I got on the bus with my crew headed to, you guessed it, Lovers Leap. The backcountry still wasn’t cleared for overnight camping so we knew at least the first week would be day runs. I was honestly ok with that. After a day of hard physical labor in the sun, having a shower and sleeping in my own bed had become the norm and was more than welcome.

The days were long and hot but having a chainsaw seemed to help keep my mind a little more occupied so it didn’t focus on the heat quite as much. Our crew quickly bonded over laughs produced by the quick-witted and goofy people that made up the majority of the crew. We began the day with stretches and fun facts about each person (acting out our favorite vines was a personal favorite), did PI’s during lunch, and even had a movie night together at the end of the week.

The last day of the work week, some of the Philmont Staff Association (PSA) staff began what quickly became a favorite afternoon tradition. In the back of a suburban, they packed a cooler full of otter pops. It was one of, if not THE, hottest day of the summer and I was struggling. When the otter pops showed up, I grabbed a handful of them and stuck them down my shirt. My mood immediately improved as my body temperature dropped and my morale rose. With otter pops melting into warm pouches of neon-colored liquid in my shirt, I was able to finish the day off strong.

Being a sawyer wasn’t always great. At the end of the day, when the thing I wanted more than anything in the world was a shower, I still had to spend another hour sharpening and doing maintenance on my saw while hoping I’d get done before dinner closed. If I was lucky, I could get it done AND shower before dinner. This routine made for a long day and made me question if I had made the right decision to stay. The thought that I could be at home relaxing in my air conditioned house was a little painful.

The second week brought the exciting news that we would finally be staying in the backcountry overnight. This was great news until I found out that we’d be camping at Lovers Leap camp. After nearly two months of working in that area, I was ready for a change of scenery. This put me in some sort of miserable mood. The steak dinner we had been blessed with that night hardly lightened my bitterness. I angrily went to my tent to try to cool down. Melanie, one of my few friends left, stopped by to see if I wanted to hang out. I knew her humor could help my mood so I invited her in. Before we knew it, we were several hours into a funny youtube video marathon. The Philmont wifi, notorious for not working most of the time, was on our side that night to help lift my mood.

My A-frame.

Our first day back to work, we spent the first few hours setting up camp. I had been told we didn’t need to bring our own tents. What I hadn’t been made aware of is the fact that the tents available were the 20-some-year-old A-frame tents, mockingly named “Phil palaces”. I had heard of them but never actually seen or used one. As I set up my tent, surrounded by everyone else's much nicer tents, I prayed this janky thing would hold up for the week until I could get a newer one. The first night it rained and I woke up to a leak in the corner of my tent but it wasn’t much so I just ignored that warning sign. It hadn’t rained for more than a few minutes at a time all summer, after all.

Putting gas in my saw.

For the first full day of the week, we were given a special assignment to build a trail through new campsites being built at the Lovers Leap camp. I was the designated sawer for the day so I helped clear the path while everyone else worked on the trail. The change of pace in work was well welcomed. We finished the trail before the workday was over so we spent the last hour or so digging sumps in the campsites. Just as we were cleaning up and ready to head back to camp, the rain rolled in. We made it back before it really started to pick up.

Most of us crowded under the dining flies to wait out the storm. The rain came down in sheets for a good long while before letting up. When the clouds broke and the sun began to show through, a few people crawled out and went to check on our tents that were pitched in the nearby field. Ann came back bearing worrisome news that my tent was in bad shape. All I could do in response was laugh hysterically to stop myself from crying. We were only a day into the week-long run and I was so over it. I picked myself up out of my Crazy Creek chair and walked through the water that was running through our campsite toward the tents. My tent was flattened and there was plenty of water inside. To top it off, my sleeping bag was wet. After a radio call to base, a loaner sleeping bag was brought up for me and Ann let me stay in her tent with her the rest of the week.

Our Christmas tree propped on a wheelbarrow surrounded by gifts.

Midway through the week, it was July 25th--Christmas in July. For the past few days, we had looked for and chose a good Christmas tree (because our whole job was to cut them down--they were in great supply) to bring back to camp and set it up. After dinner, we gathered for our family Christmas celebration, first decorating the tree with whatever we could find (our nametags, melted otter pops, etc) and then exchanged the secret Santa gifts that we each had brought. While waiting for dinner, Regina and I had come up with a TSI parody of Jingle Bell Rock and shared it during the impromptu jam session that happened with some of the other crews.

Christmas family photo.

On top of Baldy with Ann.

My weekend off starting with a staff hike up Baldy. A train of suburbans was collected and everyone who chose to go piled in. We set off toward Copper Park where we would start the hike. I had never been to that camp before and was captivated by its beauty immediately. With instructions to return by the lofty goal of 1:45, the group set off. Ann and I decided to be hiking buddies bringing up the rear. About halfway up we decided to pass the slowest people, realizing that we really didn’t have a shot at getting back in time at the pace we were going. Just before 1, we finally summited. We spent a few minutes taking pictures and then started heading back down, knowing full well there was no way we would get back in half an hour. Dark clouds were starting to roll in so between the time and an imminent storm, we strode down the mountain in haste. The rain began near the bottom and was in full force as we reached the cars at about 3.

Cabin ruins near the top of the mountain.

My last week we finally got sent to the “real” backcountry at Miners Park. This meant we could store our food and cook in the cabin. It was also super close to our work area so we could get to our plot in less than a minute after breakfast. Our assigned plot had already been worked on but was very unfinished. We also determined that it was cursed because of all the close calls that happened. No matter how well we, the sawers, worked on a felling plan for each tree, more often than not, they would fall in an unexpected direction. This left us in sticky situations in which we had to problem solve how to get a partially felled tree out of the tree next to it or cut a chainsaw out of a tree that had pinched the bar of the saw and trapped it.

Gabe and Regina climbing on the rocks.

Evenings that week were always something to look forward to. With the porch, the crews spent more time together. One night, I braided the hair of 7 people--more guys than girls. Two of which were my TC mates in 2017 and now good friends, Daniel and Luke. Another night, a group of us from several crews hiked up to Betty’s Bra, the natural climbing rocks that are the main activity of the camp.

The last tree I felled.

My last morning in the backcountry, I gathered all my things and packed up to head to base one last time. Anna, one of the head conservationists, was visiting to check in on each crew. I had been eyeing a gnarly, intimidating looking tree for several days and really wanted to be the one to cut it down but had been too nervous given the poor track record of how felling had been going that work for everyone--especially me. This being my last day, it was my last chance to try it. I asked Anna to give me any pointers and to watch me to make sure I did it right.

After my final interview with my crew leaders, I put all my gear in Anna’s suburban and set off toward basecamp with her. She made stops at the other camps on the way back, checking on the crews and picking up other people who were leaving as well. We were stopped for a while by the wood mulcher, one of the newest additions to the TSI machinery. It was pulled by a pickup truck but took up most of the road so we watched piles of branches get demolished while we waited for our turn to pass.

When we made it back to base, I was given a few hours to wash up, return my chainsaw, and eat. Then I helped with chores in the conservation garage for the rest of the day. My final assignment was to plan how to better streamline the end of the week crew returning process. The previous week had been madness trying to get everyone's gear and extra food returned and stay organized. I made a plan and signs before dinner, excited for the challenge of helping the next day.

The crews wouldn’t be getting back until late morning so I was able to take things a little slower than I was used to. I took my time eating breakfast and starting to pack before going to set up my signs and caution tape at the Welcome Center. I had a table set up for each type of package: boxed, canned, trail meals, perishables, etc. Each crew was supposed to sort out their food as they got there. Did it work? Somewhat. But still not super well. I spent a couple hours with a few other people who volunteered to help organizing and packaging everything to return to the commissary. At 3 I was allowed to call it a day and check out.

At 6am on August 4th, I packed my trunk and other baggage in the bed of Devin’s truck. Devin was a mutual friend who I had met the previous fall at a Philmont reunion. A few weeks before, I had overheard him talking about when he was leaving which was the same day as me. So I asked if he had room for me since he would be passing through KC. He was happy to give me a ride along with another girl who lived near him. With the whole expanse of Kansas ahead of us, we set off into the sunrise.

This was my first time leaving Philmont in the morning, since trains leave in the evening. The feeling of leaving with the whole day to go was somewhat different from the past years. It wasn’t sad or hard. Just thankful and hopeful. Gratitude for what had been spared during the fire and hope that the backcountry would heal quickly. Gratitude for everyone who had worked to preserve the land and program and hope that the program would be able to resume stronger than ever the next year. Gratitude that I had been there to help and hope that I would be able to return to see the healing and growth.

The Spark The Changed My Life--Part 3 {Evacuation}

Evacuation

I had brought plenty of blankets to keep me warm during the cool desert nights but found that I hardly needed all of them since the nights were significantly warmer than they had been in previous years. No rain, all sun, with temperatures rising each day. In the winter of 2017-18, New Mexico had a significantly lower snowfall compared to the average snowfall. The effects of this became apparent late in the spring when the vegetation turned from young green to brown and crunchy, drying out under the harsh sun. Usually, there are snowcaps on the mountains through the spring and summer that slowly melt into streams which flow freely through the valleys in the mountain range. But this year the streams were only a trickle if they were running at all.

What the fire danger board looked like most of the summer.

Jokes quickly began to pop up among staffers about this being the year that the southern part of Philmont would be burned down from a fire. The northern part (about ⅕) of the property was destroyed by The Ponil Complex Fire 16 years ago and that land was just now starting to have some significant recovery. The forecast for this summer was trending toward a very fire-friendly temperament. The south country, nicknamed the Tinder Box for its overpopulation of trees and downfall, was in prime condition to house a wildfire. If we were to lose the south country to fire, Philmont would become desolate, uncomfortable and unpractical for backpacking. Those jokes about a fire were just jokes though. Although the possibility was high, it wouldn’t happen to us. That’s the attitude that resonated from those jokes anyway. However, in the back of my mind, the possibility still hung. After all, the leadership and conservationists of the ranch kept telling us that, “it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when we’ll have a fire.” Something inside of me was preparing for the “when”, not the “if”. It was a weird feeling, knowing something was coming when there was really no way of actually knowing the “if”, “when”, and “how” of that event.

View of the smoke from Lovers Leap.

On May 31st, I took my newly formed crew of rangers out into the backcountry to start our training trek. Our first camp for the night was Crater Lake, so we were bussed and dropped off at the Lovers Leap turnaround which is one of the drop-off points in the south country. We stopped at Lovers Leap, a rocky outcropping that is a popular place for hikers to stop and explore. Although the afternoon was warm and we still had a ways to go, it was a nice spot to take a breather. After about 20 minutes, we continued on towards our camp, hiking farther into the backcountry with each step. As we crossed an open, meadowy area, I looked to my right and saw a large, oddly isolated cloud forming over Tooth Ridge, which was less than 2 miles away from us. It was growing at an alarming speed and the more I looked at it, the more I began to realize that it was no storm cloud at all but a huge pillar of smoke.

I needed to get more information but had minimal resources to do so. My cell coverage in New Mexico is spotty at best but in the backcountry, I'm lucky if I get enough connection to send a text on the peak of a mountain. Although Philmont has a large radio system, rangers are not authorized to use it so my only options were to wait for someone to come find us or get my phone to work. I pulled my phone out, hoping for a miracle. To my surprise, I did have some cell service and was able to call my ACR, Harrison, to ask about the smoke. Sure enough, a fire had just recently broken out right in the center of the property in an area called Ute Park. Harrison instructed me to continue on with my crew but be prepared to receive updates.

The hike seemed longer than I remembered. Maybe it was because none of us were in hiking shape yet. Ben, one of the boys in the crew, hadn't been feeling well for a few days and hiking wasn't helping. He kept a positive attitude and assured me that he could keep going but I could tell that he was tiring quickly. We finally arrived at Crater Lake camp, tired and hungry. The sun was already setting so we set up our backpacking stove on the terrace in front of the cabin and started cooking dinner immediately. The view from the tiny cabin is beautiful with the lake set nearby and the Tooth of Time peeking through the trees. The only difference in this view than normal was the smoke covering the pinkening sky in the sunset.

View of the smoke at Crater Lake.

Ben’s condition continued to worsen so I called Harrison back to ask for advice. Again, my cell service was working amazingly well. I updated Harrison on how Ben was feeling and we both agreed that I should monitor him through the night and decide in the morning if he needed to come off the trail. He also gave me an update on the fire: it was growing rapidly and all of the crews north of Tooth Ridge had been relocated farther south. By the time we had finished and cleaned up dinner, it was dark, so we decided to skip setting up tents and rolled out our sleeping bags under the stars as the smoke cloud, now glowing in the dark, continued to hang behind the ridge.

First thing in the morning, I called Harrison to inform him that Ben was feeling much better and to get the status of the fire. He told me that an evacuation still had not been called but was possible so we should hike on and call him before we went over the next ridge when I would undoubtedly lose cell service. We packed up and ate breakfast before starting our hike. As we sat eating on the small porch of the cabin, we could hear the radio inside busy with traffic. Cracking open the door so we could hear it better, we listened for any more news on the fire. I was going to do what I was instructed to do but I was really hoping an evacuation would be called before we got farther into the backcountry.

The uncertainty of what would happen made me nervous to lose cell service. We were about to get up to put our packs on when we heard an announcement on the radio. None of us heard exactly what it said but we definitely heard the word “evacuation”. Almost immediately, Harrison called me; the evacuation of the backcountry had just been called so he instructed me to get my crew down to the Lovers Leap turnaround where we would be picked up and brought back to base camp.

View of the smoke during our hike back.

Although it was much steeper and exposed, I made the decision to take the dirt road, as opposed to the trail. My goal was to get to the bus as quick as possible and this option would get us there the fastest. I kept the pace brisk despite the fact that I could feel hot spots forming on the bottom of my feet. In just over an hour, we made it to the bus that had just arrived at the turnaround and joined a couple of other crews who had made it there already. As I sat on the bumpy bus ride to base, I contemplated how I would tell my mom what was happening. I wanted her to hear the news from me before anyone else, but I didn’t want to scare her either. I finally found the wording I was looking for, “I don't want to freak you out but there is a big wildfire on property. We're all being evacuated and far as I know everyone is safe. I'll keep you updated. Send prayers that everything will go smoothly and we won't lose the whole property.” She answered with a flurry of questions, which I answered to the best of my limited knowledge.

Getting to base camp.

When we arrived in base, everyone was buzzing around, preparing for an evacuation. An evacuation had been called for the Village of Cimarron, but it was still not a given for us at Philmont which is only 4 miles from town. Everyone was instructed to pack a bag to last a few nights, but many people were prepared to bring all of their belongings just in case the fire did make it to basecamp. The smoke now hung above us in a thick, dark trail arching across the sky. The smell of smoke was undeniably thick. Although it was said that an evacuation would be called because of air quality and not because we were in immediate danger of the fire reaching us, I heard that people could see the flames from certain spots in basecamp. The fire was quickly destroying the land that we all loved and was now coming straight toward us. I kept my rangers near, feeling like a protective hen looking over her chicks, praying that the evacuation would happen soon.

View of the smoke from the staff parking lot.

View of the smoke from the ranger office.

At lunch, it was announced that plans were made and being put into place to move all 1100 of the staff to the Colfax County Fairgrounds in Springer. People who had cars filled their vehicles with people and luggage, while buses were arranged to take the remaining people. Two of my rangers had cars and we managed to get everyone in my crew into those two cars. The group that I was with sat for nearly an hour in the staff parking lot waiting for our turn to get out. I could see the flames licking the side of one of the ridges about a mile away. In that hour, I watched the flames climb all the way up the side of the ridge. I felt a wave of sadness come over me. One of my favorite camping spots was on the side of that ridge. Only a short hike from that camp was Window Rock, one of the prettiest views on property. That camp was now nothing but ashes and the once beautiful view would be a view of blackened tree trunks and mountainside. I knew there was a plan and that we were fairly safe, but I still felt anxious to get out of that crowded parking lot and get far away from there. Far away from the danger and the sadness.

Firefighting plane about to drop flame retardant.

View of flames from staff parking lot.

When our car finally made it out of the parking lot, we followed behind hundreds of other cars on a slow, start-and-stop 30-mile ride down the road to the fairgrounds. After a few miles of winding through the flat plains that meet the edge of the mountains, I turned around to see the smoke cloud towering over the iconic Tooth Ridge making the ridge look so tiny and insignificant. I prayed that that ridge would stay untouched. That the fire would stop in its tracks and not destroy any more of the beautiful land that meant the world to me.

Smoke behind the Tooth of Time.

The exhaustion of the day got to me and I dozed off in the back seat for the rest of the ride. I woke, mildly refreshed, as we pulled into the fairgrounds. The southern half of the property was the designated parking lot and was already lined with many parked cars. After parking, we got out, unsure of where to go or what to do. The other car with the rest of my rangers had gotten there awhile before us and they were excited to see me, wondering what they should be doing. I laughed, answering that I was just about as lost as they were. They had been setting up tents, brought from the outfitting warehouse, since they got there. The tents were set up on the east side of the property. Rows and rows of them. It looked like a refugee camp. That’s when it really started to sink in: we WERE refugees--displaced from our home--safe but lost. I was supposed to help, teach, and lead these 10 rangers, but we were so out of our normal element that I was of no real help to them. At least it felt that way. I knew that the leadership above me was only a little more informed than I was. They were making decisions on the spot to decide how to best keep over 1000 people safe, healthy, and organized. From my perspective, given the circumstances, they were doing an impressive job.

My crew waiting for instruction.

View of the rows of tents from the bandstand.

An all-staff meeting was called to explain details. Tent assignments were made, and dinner was brought from the commissary at base. As it got dark, the floodlights were turned on over the rodeo arena where the ranches wranglers and horsemen put on a “human rodeo” for entertainment. I had a meeting with my rangers to talk about logistics and debrief the day together, but I kept it quick because they were all eager to go watch the show. I sent them off and went to go talk to Teddy. We sat under the expansive starry sky and talked about how devastated we were, imagining what might be totally gone when we got back. Although the stars were bright, there was still a dark ring around the horizon: the smoke from the fire. It was a reminder that we had escaped to physical safety for now but the future was now uncertain--as uncertain as where the fire would go next. When I had arrived at the fairgrounds earlier that day, I had looked around and seen that the smoke was still nearly surrounding us, even 30 miles away. I was disappointed because I thought we had come here to escape and forget.

Support from Katie.

In the morning before breakfast, we had a leadership meeting to give us updates and plans for the day. The fire had reached an estimated 27,290 acres and the firefighters, now numbered at about 450 personnel, were unable to get it into any kind of containment. The good news was, training was going to move ahead. “Normalcy. This is still Philmont,” Robert Fudge, a head conservationist, assured everyone. And that it was, as much as was possible. Normalcy. I liked that word. It brought a sense of stability to the uncertainty of the situation at hand. We still had meals at regular times, the staff activities center staff had brought games and movies for free time, and each department continued its training.

TC photo taken in the barn.

It became the designated first aid training day for many staff training groups. Usually, this would be done throughout training trek for the rangers, but getting it done in one sitting was nice. I teamed up with two other ranger trainers to teach the 8-hour Philmont First Aid course to our rangers. Half of the day was spent in the barn and the other half in the grandstands when the barn got too crowded. Lecturing and first aid roleplay took up the day until dinnertime. Dinner was catered from the basecamp kitchen this time so we had a hot meal of hamburgers and hotdogs. The rest of the evening was relaxed with a musical show put on by many of the backcountry staff members in the barn. Spirits were high as I met with my rangers to do Philmont’s end of day tradition called Roses, Buds, and Thorns. Everyone shared their favorite and least favorite part of the day and what they were looking forward to. My crew laughed and joked, invited passersby to join us, and topped the night off with a silly rain dance. It was a relief for me to see that my crew was keeping such a high morale.

All-staff photo. 

The plan for the rangers on day two of what was now being called “Springer Break” was to hike to a nearby park and practice camping skills. My crew was eager and had everything that we would need packed and ready to go when we all gathered for the 8am all-staff meeting after breakfast. The first announcement was that, although the fire was still at 0% containment, there had been significant progress in controlling the fire and rain was in the forecast. The excitement and joy rippling through the bandstand where we were gathered was exhilarating. Even the smallest glimmer of hope was all we needed to keep going.

But much to our surprise, the next announcement was that we were heading back to base camp immediately. The crowd erupted into elated screaming. A lump formed in my throat as I felt tears of happiness fill my eyes. Everyone sat, squirming in their seats as the exit plan and schedule for the rest of the day was explained. As soon as the word was given to get up and clean up camp, the mass of people rushed to their tents to pack their belongings. In under two hours, everything was packed up, put in vehicles, and a police line was formed to pick up all trash that could be found across the campground. We filled many trash bags full of trash, leaving the property better than we found it.

Handfull of trash that I picked up.

As people began to pile into cars and busses, I looked around the now empty fairground, with few signs that over 1000 people had been living there for nearly 48 hours. It was truly amazing that through the whole evacuation process, our group as a whole was prepared to handle a situation like this. With the organization of Philmont and its resources combined with the skills and training of the staff, we were able to work and even thrive in that situation. Most people had their own camping gear, knew how to pack light, and many of us learned and used camping skills for our jobs. Philmont had enough food stored to feed thousands of people for the entire summer, camping gear to supply for those without any, and there was already an accountability system set up which made it easy to keep people accounted for and informed. Although Red Cross had set up two evacuation centers to provide food and shelter for the people of Cimarron and Ute Park, the Philmont staff, which outnumbered the citizens of both Cimarron and Ute Park combined, had operated nearly independently through the whole process.

The Spark That Changed My Life--Part 2 {RT}

Ranger Trainer

April 30, barely two weeks before I left for Philmont, I received an email from the Chief Ranger, Matt Nutt, asking if we could set up a time for us to, “talk about an opportunity that had opened up at Philmont.” As I read that line, I froze. I had applied for Mountain Trek ranger only to find out that that position was no longer going to be a hired position. Instead, I had agreed to be a 3rd-year ranger. My biggest goal was to be a Rayado ranger and either position would give me that opportunity so I was perfectly happy with another year as a ranger.

This email could mean a few things. Either they had decided to bring Mountain Trek ranger back, which I would be super happy about. It could mean they wanted to move me to another department, not something I wanted to do and fairly unlikely. Or, I was about to be offered a Ranger Trainer (RT) position. I quickly replied, giving a few options of times that I could call.

I sat back, in a mild panic. I was hoping it was the Mountain Trek option but deep down, I knew that wasn’t it. What would I say if I was offered the job as a Ranger Trainer? It had never been a job that appealed to me. I hadn’t even put RT as an option on my application. I just wanted to spend my time with the crews in the backcountry and take out a Rayado trek. RT just sounded like a lot of basecamp time and paperwork to me.

The phone call time came. I was already pretty set on my answer but I still asked a lot of questions. For over 50 minutes, Chief explained all of the RT responsibilities and perks that he could think of. Yes, paperwork and a lot of time in basecamp, but also a flexible schedule, an impact on even more crews than one ranger has, plenty of time in the backcountry observing rangers and visiting liaison camps. When he was exhausted of everything he could give me, Matt asked if I had any idea if I wanted to take this job but also assured me that I didn’t need to answer right away. I was still torn but I had made up my mind. I knew I needed to follow through. “This is a hard decision,” I said, “but I’ll take the job.” I was willing to give up my current ambitions and find out why this opportunity had been given to me.

So there I was, 3 weeks after that phone call, finishing up WFR and about to jump right into my new job. After our final classroom discussion of the sim, I hurried to the shower to wash all the fake blood off. I was under the impression that I wasn’t going to start my RT training until the next day but as I went to return the clothes I had borrowed for the sim, another RT informed me that training started that evening. My mood fell. After 8 days of constant going, I was exhausted and ready for a night off with everyone else. Oh, how silly of me. I had agreed to this job and I was going to enjoy it.

And enjoy it, I did. It was an easygoing evening with all of ranger upper leadership and the RTs. We drove to Rocky Mountain Scout Camp down the road and sat in the dwindling sunlight under a pavilion tucked away in the woods. “We meet here for the first night of RT training so we can get a taste of the backcountry right away,” Chief explained. Happiness rolled over me. This was hardly the backcountry but it was close enough. It was good to be back and surrounded by so many familiar faces.

We were each assigned our Training Crew number and subsequently, our Associate Chief Ranger (ACR) aka boss. My crew number was 12 and Harrison was my ACR. Each ACR group broke off and got to know each other. I knew most of the people in my group to some extent already but no one too well. I could tell we were going to get along.

Still no break for me. Training continued in basecamp for several more days, mostly going over all the administration that was part of our jobs. One memorable activity was when the RTs and CDs met in the dining hall to do a speed dating activity of sorts. During that, the RTs and CDs got to know each other and got an idea of who they wanted to be their liaisons. The liaison program helps the ranger and backcountry departments get to know each other and be more unified. After that activity, each RT let their ACRs know which camps they wanted to be liaisons with. I had quite a few that I wanted but we had to wait until after training trek to see who we were assigned to.

Consulting the spool.

For several years, I had dreamed of celebrating my birthday at Philmont and I finally had that dream come true. The morning of my birthday, I headed into the backcountry with my training crew. No fanfare, just a blissful day in the wilderness where I was happiest. Turns out, training trek as an RT is so easygoing. We meandered across the familiar landscape of south country, for the most part without looking at a map. At the beginning of the day, we would consult our “spool”. It was the plastic spool that a length of paracord had come on and we joked that it was what guided us.

We practiced teaching skills but because of our experience of leading crews through the backcountry, there wasn’t a whole lot to go over. Instead, we were the crew unit a ranger only dreams of. Well, most of the time. We still crewed pretty hard here and there. But when we put our minds to it, we got things done quickly and easily as our many summers of combined experience went through all the backcountry procedures with little effort.   

Our itinerary started at Zastrow Turnaround and went to Carson Meadows the first night, Aguila the second night and to the Stockade for our last night. We had spent a leisurely morning hiking over Stonewall Pass to Lovers Leap before getting to the Stockade in the early afternoon. We had very little crew training left so we just messed around as the other crews began to show up throughout the day. We were planning on crashing on the inside of the stockade so we didn’t set up tents.

The biggest problem was that we were nearly out of water and the one water source in the camp, we had been told, was not ready to be used. Upper leadership was notified of the situation and brought up a jug of water later that evening. We needed dinner before that though so we decided to see how bad the water there really was. One of the boys in my crew filled one of our cooking pots with the greenish water. The sunlight was fading so maybe our eyes were playing tricks on us but most of us swore we saw microscopic creatures creating weird formations on the bottom of the pot. To top it off, our freeze dried meal for the day was rice and peas. Between sketchy water and a less-than-favorite meal, all of us but two of the guys decided the snacks in the meals and extra food from other meals would be plenty for our dinner. Those two guys ate way more than their fill of rice and peas that night.

As the stars began to appear above, everyone spread out their dining flies around the courtyard to keep their sleeping bags out of the dirt. I crawled into my bag and drifted to sleep pretty fast. I was just over the threshold of not being aware of the whispering and laughing around me when a yell rang through the courtyard and there was a flurry of movement around me that jolted me awake. The first thought that crossed my mind was that it was raining. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when I had closed my eyes but I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. I dazedly rolled to the shelter of the overhang nearby before I realized it wasn’t rain that was causing the ruckus at all. It was a sneak attack of the nightcrawlers. I looked across the courtyard as a couple people were initiating a game of nightcrawlers by rolling and wigging in their sleeping bags across the people who were scattered across the courtyard. It was a popular thing for rangers to do, especially during training trek, while crashing with a group of people. I rolled my eyes and went back to where I had been laying. It took awhile for me to fall back asleep so I stared at the thousands of stars sparkling above me as the sound of people shuffling around in their sleeping bags and squealing continued.

The morning brought Search and Rescue (SAR) training. The infirmary and logistics staffs joined us for the day so we could all work together in this training. Everyone was split into two groups to get everything done. The group I was in started with the mock emergency carry in which the infirmary people cared for the patient, the rangers lead the carry, and the logistics people assisted so they could watch how the process worked. We started by hiking up to Stockade Ridge camp where our patient was being evaluated by a medic who was already there. After helping the patient into the litter and attaching the wheel to the bottom, we began the slow walk back down the trail. Each ranger got to take a turn being the litter boss by guiding the carrying team. We were all under the impression that we had to make it all the way back to the Stockade but thankfully the ACR in charge of the training let us stop the scenario about halfway down and just hike the rest of the way.

After lunch, we sat through a lecture (that I may or may not have seriously struggled to stay awake through) followed but a written test and practical skills test. Both tests were fairly easy. The skills test was easier than the ranger skills test. And just like that, I was certified to participate in and even guide a SAR.

We wrapped up RT training in the morning and got a half day off. It was such a relief to get some time off to play catch up with my personal chores just in time for ranger arrival. May 28th had previously been the day I had arrived at Philmont with other rangers. To be on the other side of it was almost as exciting. It was only the day before that I had received the list of rangers I would be training and I was anxious to meet them. I found that ranger check-in day was a lot more laid back for RTs than I expected. I had things I needed to get done but otherwise, I was free to do what I needed. I took my shift of checking people in, prepared skits for that night, planned for my trek, and helped my friend Katie move in when she got there that afternoon.

Katie and I had been in a training crew together the previous year and become friends through that. We were both from Missouri which had made seeing each other during the offseason very reasonable. In fact, we had seen each other about every other month since the last summer and become even closer because of that. We now had grand plans for the summer starting with her being my tentmate. I was so excited to have a tentmate that I knew ahead of time without the risk of being put with someone random and not enjoying it.

That evening, I met the 10 rangers I was assigned to train and supervise for the summer. I had an even mixture of first-year and experienced rangers who were all eager to start the summer sure to be full of exciting adventures. With the exception of one of the boys who I had met the previous year, we were all but strangers to each other, but in no time we became friends and all got along very well. Although many of these people were not people I would have picked out of a crowd to meet and become friends with, I quickly came to love them as my own. I felt an almost motherly dedication to my “kids.” I wanted to do everything I could to help them succeed in their jobs.

---

Part 3

The Spark That Changed My Life--Part 1 {WFR}

Wilderness First Responder

7am on May 12th, instead of waking up on a train that was on its way to Raton, NM as I had done in previous years, I was loading up Teddy’s Honda Civic. Well, he was the one playing Tetris with my footlocker and pack and fretting over how to keep his TV from getting smashed. I just stood there amazed at how packed his car already was and that he could fit my luggage in there too. This was my first time driving to Philmont and the option of fitting “just one more thing” was dangerous because I knew I wouldn’t have to drag all my stuff through two train stations by myself. But I had curbed that temptation pretty well and everything managed to fit.

I had met Teddy the previous summer at Philmont. I had never really made more than casual-in-passing friends with backcountry people before so when I first met him I didn’t think anything of it. But I kept running into him all over the place. I finally got fates hint and befriended him. We had kept in touch over the offseason and when we found out that we were both taking the Wilderness First Responder course at Philmont, he offered to pick me up on the way there. He had accepted an internship that started right after his Philmont contract ended so he was planning on just moving there right after Philmont. This is why his car was extra full complete with a TV. Now that my things were added to his already full car, it was time to endure the endlessness of Kansas.

Kansas is indeed the most boring state to drive through. Once you go beyond the 50 most eastern miles of the state, it is as flat as they say. Yes, flatter than a pancake. The grain silo towns every 20 miles look exactly the same. Several grain silos on the right with two train tracks next to them, roads to the left that veer off at a slight angle from the highway with a church, a bank, a school, and a Dollar General in view from the highway. If it weren’t for the fact that these towns had different names, I would have thought we were just driving in circles...somehow. The roads are pin-straight so geometrically that wouldn’t have worked. Probably the most interesting thing we saw was a motorcycle brigade that went on for a good half mile. Basically, it’s a good thing we had Spotify and managed to find interesting enough topics to talk about for most of the 10-hour car ride.

We arrived in Raton, NM in the early afternoon. The time zone change had granted us an extra hour in the day so it felt like we had the whole day still ahead of us. Teddy was planning on dropping a lot of his belongings off in a storage locker and had found the only locker place in Raton that was open on Saturdays. At least that’s what the website said. We sat at the gate trying to get in for at least 10 minutes with no luck. The office was inside the gate and they weren’t answering either of the phones listed on the website. He finally gave up and we drove the final 45 minutes to Philmont.

The Wilderness First Responder Course (WFR) was being held at the Philmont Training Center (PTC) across the street from base camp. All of the students were being housed there for the week before the tents on camping headquarters (CHQ) side were set up. Conveniently, it was close to the classroom. We were able to spend the rest of the day setting up our living areas in our oh-so-spacious tents. It was an exciting day because I got to see old friends from past years as they showed up. Less convenient, we had to take the 15-minute walk all the way over to CHQ for meal times because the PTC kitchen was closed. I spent the evening with a group of people including Teddy and his tentmate, Jon. We talked about the coming week and summer. Someone shared a rumor that we would have to read 100 pages of the textbook a day for this WFR class. I laughed nervously. That couldn’t be true. Right?

---

After a hike to and from CHQ for breakfast, our class of about 30 students gathered in the Buster Brown classroom. There were four rows of tables across the room with a textbook and several other booklets set in front of each seat. “So this was the famed textbook?” I thought as I sat down in the chair at the end of one of the tables. It was a thin, soft cover book with lots of colors and illustrations. It didn't look hardly as scary as I'd imagined it. After a few minutes of fiddling around with the materials sitting in front of me, an older man walked to the front of the room and introduced himself. Carl, along with 3 other men, Tom, Siri, and Kyle, would be our teachers for the week. We would be going over a whole list of things, blah, blah, blah. I didn't want a whole long introduction, I wanted to get to the good stuff. Where was the information and action? It came soon enough and at full speed.

The first day was mainly powerpoint lectures. And 60 pages of textbook reading at the end of the day. It was also Mothers Day, which meant I got to skype my family and my brother Kallen, who was on a mission. Teddy let me use his laptop to skype after dinner. By the time it was all set up and working, it was nearly 7pm. I was sitting in front of the classroom at a picnic table and a few of my friends were sitting nearby doing their reading. I tried to enjoy the time talking to my family and brother, who I hadn’t seen in nearly a year, but I started getting antsy after half an hour. I kept looking over at everyone else getting their reading done knowing I was falling behind by the minute. After an hour, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I apologized for being so distracted and explained my predicament before hanging up. I went over to the other table to join everyone else but one by one, they all were finishing up and going to bed. Soon, I was left alone with more than half the reading left to do. I was tired and angry but plowed through the reading as fast as I could.

There were a few more powerpoints the second day of class but before I knew it, we were thrown into roleplay situations to test the knowledge and skills we had learned. We practiced simple diagnosis most of the day. Everyone had been split up into three groups the first day and each group took turns being the responders and patients. When it was my turn to be the patient, Tom took my group out and painted bruises on us and gave us a scenario of what happened and what the responders were supposed to find in their exams. Overall, the day was fun and not too overwhelming until our homework was assigned. 100 pages of reading.

After dinner, my group of friends, Teddy, Jon, and Heather went to the Baldy Pavillion where we tried to read. One of our mutual friends, Melanie, had just arrived to start her job so she joined us and read her own novel. Occasionally, someone would look up and comment on something they had just read and then we’d all start talking and get off track for awhile. We all found out the Jon can read at an unhumanly speed so he was done after a couple of hours. Teddy wasn’t far behind him. Heather and I just accepted the fact that there was no way we were going to finish the assignment. My brain had turned to mush and trying to cram all that information into my head in one sitting wasn’t possible.

Day three was even more hands-on because we got to spend a bit of time practicing splinting techniques. Heather and I, along with another girl, Arizona, were in a group together having a grand ol’ time splinting each other's arms and legs. The best part of the day was only 40 pages of reading. It was also the last day of reading which came as such a relief. There was other homework assigned which involved reading scenarios, giving a diagnosis, and creating a treatment plan.

The days began to blend together and I felt like I was living and breathing WFR. As exhausting as it was, I was really enjoying it. One day was focused on wound cleaning and irrigation. Fun fact: pigs have skin that is closest to human skin. So what did we use to practice wound cleaning? Pigs feet. Everyone was split up into teams of two and given a pigs foot with a slice in it. The wound was packed full of dirt, pebbles, and grass. It was fascinating to use tweezers to gently pick out the big stuff, and use a syringe to flood the rest out.

The first big simulation was set out that day as well. When we came back from lunch, the divider the middle the room had been closed--something none of us had seen up to that point. Three groups were formed and assigned various roles. The first group was taken out of the room to be patients, another was assigned to be operators on a phone, and the last were the first responders. The operators and responders were paired to work together. The catch was, the responder could only describe what they saw going on with the patient while the operator gave instruction on how to treat the patient. I was a responder and Heather was my operator. We were told that there were a bunch of patients on an airplane and we were being sent in to treat them.

The “airplane” was set up on the other side of the divider. The responders were instructed to treat the first person they came to. I was near the front of the pack so I went to a guy who looked like a complete mess with food down the front of his shirt and completely oblivious to the chaos around him. The room was loud with patients yelling and a sound recording of airplane noises. I later found out that there were also strong smells but I had them tuned out. I began talking to my patient. He gave me a glazed over smile but anything he tried to say was incoherent. I called Heather and began explaining the situation and she started giving me instructions of what to do. The more I began to inspect him, the more he began to become aware of me and his surroundings. I tried to take his blood pressure but the cuff seemed to be broken and he kept trying to take it off. He started becoming interested in my medical bag and wanting to play with its contents. Other than his mental status, everything seemed fine. Heather was stumped for awhile but then began realizing he was intoxicated and there really wasn’t much left for me to do. At this point, he was trying to grab my phone so I let him take it and talk to Heather as I packed my things up. All the other patients seemed to be attended to so I spent the rest of the time keeping him entertained and out of the way of the other situations.

Stage blood left on the road.

The next simulation I was an assistant. This time we were given a pile of tools we could use including stretchers. We could use anything in the pile but we had to take it with us and couldn’t come back to get anything. My partner and I grabbed a few things and waited with the rest of the people. We weren’t told what had happened and had to find the scene which was somewhere outside. It was found quickly by the sound of frantic screaming down the road. The first patient my partner and I came across had two broken legs, a large pool of blood around her, and she appeared unconscious and not breathing--surprisingly good acting on the girls part. Frantically, we discussed what to do and without thinking began CPR. One of our instructors came by and stopped us asking what our plan was. It didn’t take long for us to realize that this girl was probably too far gone and even if she didn’t have open wounds, CPR wasn’t going to help. He advised we move along so we hung our heads and walked closer to where more patients were. A car looked like it had crashed into a tree and several other patients lay in critical condition nearby. A few other people were loudly trying to interrupt, a vlogger was trying to get in on the action. We went to a group of people surrounding a patient who were about to put him on a stretcher.

As a break from simulations, we had other hands-on activities like creating carrying mechanisms out of various materials. Most of the ones I rode in were uncomfortable and/or scary. We also had an activity in which we had to work in teams to move an unconscious person with potential spinal injury from tricky places while still giving as much spinal support as possible. Smaller, short sims involved individual scenarios like dehydration, anaphylaxis, and collapsed lung. FYI, epinephrine does not help a collapsed lung. That was a fun one to act out.

The second to last day there were big two sims back to back. After the group of people chosen to be actors left, the rest of us were split up into two groups. From there, we were each assigned to a sim and once we were done, we were to switch to the other one. The first sim I was assigned to was a camping scene where the group got struck by lightning. It was quickly apparent that no one could hear, assumedly due to the lightning strike. This made the triage and evaluation process a new kind of complicated because we had to assess and treat a group of people who were hurt, scared, and couldn’t communicate normally. It really made me stop to ask myself what questions were most important to ask the patients. The second sim involved a group of people trapped in a storm in a flooding a river who were clearly suffering from hypothermia. This was a little harder to imagine because, in reality, it was a very warm, sunny day. But the people acting out the scenario did a fairly convincing job of being cold anyway.

 

After those two situations, I was pretty exhausted. The group of responders and actors I was with all gathered in the nursery building which had been our treatment area for our hypothermic patients. Siri and Tom, who had been the instructors overseeing our group, sat us all down on the colorful carpet for a debrief. After they lead us through a review of the situations we had just gone through, Siri gave us a speech that hit most of us pretty hard. “Tomorrow is the last day of this course. You’ll be doing one final simulation and then that’s it. It won’t be pretend anymore. People’s lives will actually depend on you. Those people will be expecting you to know what to do. Are you ready for that?” The weight of that reality sat hard on my chest. I choked on the lump in my throat and willed the tears stinging my eyes to stop. A few may have fallen anyway.

In the morning, the written test was administered. I wasn’t super worried about it. I’d taken a practice test and felt fairly confident. It was the final sim I was nervous and excited for. I was curious if I’d be picked to be an actor for it though because I hadn’t been chosen to be one in any of the other big sims. Sure enough, after everyone was done with the written test, the actors were announced and I was one of them. I was secretly relieved but also felt a little guilty that I was basically getting out of the hardest sim.

While the group was prepped and given assignments for what was coming, the people chosen to be the actors were taken outside and prepped as well. We were told that we were going to be driving out to the stockade and acting out the aftermath of a vicious bear attack. A few people were asked to go back in and say that too many people had been taken to be actors but were supposed to end up with problems once they got out to the scene so the team had to deal with patients within the crew. The rest of us were invited to go grab anything we thought we would need for the rest of the day and then drive together to the stockade immediately.

Once we arrived at the stockade, the possible roles were announced. I quickly volunteered to be the patient who had taken the brunt of the mauling from the bear. I sure was excited to be covered in a whole package of stage blood. Gratefully, a box of trashed clothing to choose from was provided so I didn’t ruin my staff uniform. After choosing a shirt and a pair of shorts, I went to one of the small rooms in the stockade wall to change. Once everyone had a role to play, we were each placed in position in and around the stockade. I was taken a little way down a path and told to lie behind a bear box that was sitting under a tree. Once a “go” was given, I was to squeeze the bag of stage blood which was attached to a tube taped to my arm. If the bag ran out, I would be “dead.”

Post-bear attack.

As I lay there, I heard the commotion begin as the responders arrived. I was determined to run the bag out before anyone found me but the triage team was well put together and I was found right away. The guy who found me quickly began putting a tourniquet on my arm. In the realness of the moment, he took no thought in how tight he was putting it on. Although I tried to stay in character, the pain of the tourniquet snapped me out of it and I told him to loosen it a little. Thankfully, one of the teachers walked past right then and confirmed that it didn’t need to be on tight. I went back to my best in-shock, lowered level of consciousness impersonation and let the rest of the evaluation happen around me.

There was no way to wash up before lunch so I used a plastic bag to cover my hands.

As fake as the scenario was, in some ways, it started becoming real for me. I really did feel my consciousness slipping just a little bit and the minutes began to blur together. Eventually, a stretcher was brought and I was loaded onto it and taken to the treatment area. People came and went as they tended to me and others while I lay there, nearly falling asleep. Finally, time was called and the scene halted. Everyone gathered back inside the stockade for lunch before we headed back to the classroom.

Back at our classroom, we had a debrief over the simulation and the whole week. Then our certificates of completion, certification cards, and a few other goodies were handed out. All while I was still covered in fake blood. But I was elated to have accomplished so much in the past 8 days.  

---

Part 2