Above: the 2007 Trail Crew: Nate, Raphael, Jack (crew leader), Justin, Karen (Welch Summit Steward), and volunteers extraordinaries, Brenda and Preston.

by Dan Newton

Ambling along the trail, I come across a group of enormous young men sitting in the dirt and rocks eating things like Bumble Bee tuna fish straight out of the can, and huge chunks of bread and giant plastic bowls of pasta. It’s Raphael, a rare woodland being from the city, philosophical, erudite, possessed of strange thoughts and an infectious laugh, able to read books at speeds unknown to mortal men; and Justin, tall, a little mangy, loved by sprites and fairies of the female persuasion throughout the enchanted forest; and Nate, tough as nails, quiet, with a legendary quality about him, dusted with the dirt of work and damn serious about it. Standing over them is Jack the crew leader. His bulging arms are folded in front of his prodigious pectoral muscles; and rocks, once strong and mighty looking, lay grappled and flattened on the ground beside him, whimpering for mercy.

“Where’s Brenda?” I ask.

I’m looking for our Volunteer of the Year, Brenda Conklin. She’s always out with the crew, letting them wrestle the rocks and roll around the dirt, while she furiously hacks through the encroaching branches and limbs of the mountain woods, seemingly tireless, never short of enthusiasm, willingness, and above all, good cheer.

The crew all answer me with their mouths full, so I don’t understand them well, but they’re also pointing up the trail, past a beautiful set of stone steps they’re building. The section of the trail is steep and needs the rocks to curb the inevitable process of erosion, brought on by rain and the steepness of the terrain, as well as the foot traffic from hikers.

Stepping past Justin, who’s settled down to a lunch of about eight peanut butter sandwiches; and Raphael, whose just finished reading his third novel since I arrived, I move on up the trail, past water bars that have been cleaned of leaf litter and sand and gravel from the trail, and scree walls of dead trees directing the hikers past vague turns and sections of the trail; and soon, I hear the whirring and sycthing sounds of Brenda at work. Bark and leaves are flying everywhere as she wields a Pulaski, grub hoe, and two pairs of loppers, all at the same time. There are piles of sawdust next to her feet, and two small but effective handsaws sheathed by her sides. She is a true woodland warrior.

“Oh hi!” she says, dropping her tools and warmly waving to me.

“Brenda,” I say, looking at a previously near impenetrable maze of small blowdowns,” “You’re amazing…”

“Oh well,” she says, smiling widely, “Not like those boys! Did you see those steps!”

“I did.”

“We’re so lucky to have them. They’ve done so much great work. And after all these years of hiking, I never knew how much fun it could be to help take care of the trails!!! It’s great exercise!!! the views are great!!! and it feels so… so rewarding, to give back, to help care for what has become dear to you. It’s great when you walk past some place where you worked and you say, ‘I did that!’ And not only that,” she says, “I’ve met the most interesting people. That Raphael is so so interesting to talk to!!!”

“It’s time for lunch you know.”

“Oh. Okay,” she cheerily throws down her remaining weapons and bounces past me, as we head on down the trail…

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