Lessons from the Storm – Crew 241 Perseveres through Challenge and Change

Written by Nate Dreyfus, a crew leader with the Los Valles Region:

Early morning on the first day of the storm, approaching the jobsite at around 11,500’.

If one thing is certain in conservation corps life, it is uncertainty.  A few months’ experience weathering the vagaries of backcountry terrain, obsolete maps, mountain weather, and constantly evolving project specifications will do wonders for one’s tolerance for uncertainty.  Over the last three seasons leading crews I have found myself feeling increasingly compelled to knock on wood when voicing gratitude at good fortune, and biting my tongue when tempted to remark upon cooperative weather; in these and other ways, I have gradually acquired a sense of superstition common to those whose fates are tied by occupation to the mighty and impervious forces of nature.  A happy result of this constant exposure to change, however, is the ability to flourish when faced with it.  This past hitch provided some prime opportunities for such growth – three days into a backcountry trail maintenance project high in the San Juans, our 11,400’ niche in the mountains was pounded with a powerful early season snowstorm, dropping over two feet of snow on the trail we were working on and creating whiteout conditions during the hardest gusts of driving wind and snow.

Morning break on the first day of our new project down at 7000’, dancing with joy at an unexpected gift of delicious hot chocolate - courtesy of a generous neighbor.

By its end, the unusual storm had taken on historic proportions for snowfall this early in the season, with the depth (three feet on nearby peaks) enabling an area ski resort to open its lifts two weeks earlier in October than its prior opening day record dating back a number of years.  It was gratifying to watch my crew endure through the freezing and labor-intensive process of retrieving tools, breaking camp and hiking through deep snow down the mountain over the course of 36 hours in the storm, toughing it out through frozen boots, eyelashes, zippers and buckles to our goal back at the trailhead.  We left the 14-degree nights behind us and resumed our hitch the next day on a community project, building pathways and a bridge to connect more households to the local Salida trail.  We quickly adapted to the new climate and different project, turning out high quality work while laughing and reminiscing throughout the experience.  Everyone was challenged these last nine days, myself included – and everyone now emerges tougher, more experienced, and more tolerant of change.  These strengths will serve us well when we go our separate ways in a few weeks, whatever the trails we wind up treading.