Point of View From a Salida Crew

On the morning of April 19, I joined ten other young men and women in Salida, Colorado, to begin a six-week period of training as Crew Leaders for the Los Valles region of Southwest Conservation Corps.  After some introductions, we worked through the morning and into the early afternoon “rigging up” – loading food, gear, tools, and packs into vehicles and trailers.  That afternoon, we departed for the Upper Crossing Guard Station, a small cabin in the Rio Grande National Forest.

Almost immediately, I began to appreciate the SCC staff’s decision to allot a long period for initial training.  For two weeks, the training served me and the other crew leaders in several ways.  Most evidently, it brought the eleven of us together as a unified team.  We came to know each other in guided discussions, in which each person shared experiences and knowledge on leadership, conservation, environmental science.  Personal stories, likes and dislikes, songs, and all kinds of conversation filled the small gaps in our schedule.  As each person spoke, I became aware that the assembled group represented an incredible diversity in education, background, geography, and worldview.  Environmental science majors, art degrees, bachelors in theology.  Terms of employment with Outward Bound, the Forest Service, the U.S. Army.  Hailing from Idaho, Missouri, Rhode Island, Texas.  Seasoned pros and newcomers.  I include myself among the newcomers.  It occurred to me early on that I was probably the least-experienced in the group.  I repeatedly reminded myself to listen actively, to be observant, to take notes, to take advantage of the cumulative wisdom available in each discussion.

SCC Staff led several discussions to stimulate our thinking on the work to come.  We acted out scenarios to practice conflict resolution.  We climbed up into a boulder-strewn draw to talk about leadership styles.  We talked nuts-and-bolts: safety, timeliness, organization.  Particularly memorable is a documentary we watched about the Civilian Conservation Corps, which helped me view our work in the broad scope of history.

We learned hard skills.   Blacking out cabin windows to watch a Power Point presentation on chainsaw safety.  Disassembling and reassembling the saws themselves, staining our gloves with bar oil.  Bucking with crosscut saws on a wooded hillside.  Hanging bear-bags for practice, competing to construct the best latrine.  Crew leaders taught skills lessons from their own expertise: lighting a Whisper-Lite stove, balancing a backpack, collecting water in the wild.

And more still: hiking up to a Paleo-Indian ceremonial site.  Attempting (unsuccessfully) to untie ourselves from the Human Knot.  Chasing fly-away tents.  Playing guitar and singing together to wind down the evenings.  A project day at headquarters in Salida.  The endless sharpening of tools.  Cooking, cleaning, and, of course, eating, eating, eating.

During the third week of our training, the SCC staff stepped from a guiding role back into a supporting role.  Crew Leaders took charge of organizing our hitch, assumed the responsibilities of writing an Emergency Response Plan, purchasing food, loading our rigs, and setting up camp in San Isabel National Forest.  Our project for the week (and the week to come) is constructing a re-route of the Upper Sand Dunes Trail.  This is part of Salida Mountain Trails, a network of multiple-use trails that wind mile by mile through the foothills north of Salida.  The trails are especially popular with area-mountain bikers, and I’ve heard it rumored that our re-route may be part of the course for the FIBArk mountain bike race in June this year.

A typical day in this work week begins at six a.m. (or a little earlier for those cooking breakfast).  We wake up, eat breakfast and pack lunch, and endure frozen feet and fingers until it’s time to head to our work site.  The trip to work includes a twenty-minute drive down a winding gravel road and a mile hike uphill to the trail head.  We divvy up tools and dig, pound, pry, lift, and crush our way through the next eight hours, sculpting switchbacks, berms, and tread from the dusty granite hillsides, reminded all too often why they’re called the Rocky Mountains.

After work, we make the return trip home.  As I hike down the four-wheel drive road that winds down the mountain, I often feel gratitude that my commute home includes such a beautifully-framed view of Mount Ouray, and is refreshingly devoid of traffic, noise, and smog.

The hour or so after our return to camp affords us a window of free time to explore, nap, or play frisbee.  Then comes dinner, which (coincidentally?) is prime time for visits from SCC staff.  This week, Director of Operations Amy Foss paid us a vist.  (And brought brownies.  And out-hiked all of us to the work site the next morning.)

Talk of showers, steak, and snowboarding grows more frequent as Friday approaches.  During weekends off, SCC crew leaders have been exploring the region and enjoying the coffee, pizza, karaoke, and hospitality that Salida has to offer.  This weekend, I traveled with Kyra and Lisa, two fellow crew leaders, to Crestone, Colorado.  We perused their Saturday market, enjoyed tea in the traditional Japanese style at a tea-house, and explored a few of the many religious shrines nestled at the feet of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Later today, we’ll rig up again and head back at to our camp site in San Isabel National Forest.  Tomorrow, we’ll resume work on the Upper Sand Dunes Trail, and in a few weeks, we’ll take charge of our crews and begin work on a variety of projects for the summer.  Right now, though, I’m finishing up lunch (burrito), reviewing a mental packing list (need extra bootlaces), and wondering about the summer to come.  I am glad to be doing this work with these people.  I am grateful for the support of SCC staff.  I am happy to have made the friends I’ve made already.  I feel more and more prepared to lead others.  And I am as convinced as ever of the value of this work.

Zachary Allen

Conservation Crew Leader

SCC Los Valles

Salida, CO