A quick note: These CDT posts are usually from both Jonathan and Molly, but this one is a little different since it's about a place that's special to Molly, in particular. She'll tell it from her perspective for this one.

*Molly in the northern part of the Bob Marshall Wilderness*

Fourteen years ago, in 2011, I worked for a summer with a Forest Service trail crew in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. I was flown in to a remote backcountry ranger station with a quarter-mile grass airstrip and spent the summer hauling rocks, building bridges, and wielding a six-foot-long crosscut saw. By September, I'd hiked over 600 miles.

I learned a lot that summer, the summer before I hiked the Appalachian Trail. I had some experience backpacking and working on trails, but this was a whole other level. It was physically brutal. And it was also a pretty lonely time for me. When I wasn't working, I spent hours in the shade along the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, looking up at the delicate green Aspen leaves and reading every book I could find in the ranger cabins.

Over the years, Jonathan and I have talked so much about Montana and about this remote place that shaped my imagination of wilderness. When we started planning for the CDT, we found it on our maps and started scheming about whether we could get there. The Schafer Ranger Station is not on the official CDT, but Jonathan searched through maps and map layers to find trails to connect us there and back. He found a potential route and created a GPX file for us to upload into CalTopo (one of our mapping apps). We weren't certain the trails were still there at all.

When we arrived at the junction to the first of these mystery trails, there was only a faint path that petered out in a meadow 20 feet off of the CDT. We tromped through a couple more meadows seeking out faint use trails and discovered an overgrown, but clear path leading out the far end. With a deep breath and some crossed fingers, we ducked under the first brush and into the tunnel.

For several hours, we followed the same trail, sometimes clear and open, sometimes fully hidden in the thick undergrowth. Once in a while we saw old shoe prints, but we could tell that the trail was still in regular use by deer and elk. We climbed up a ridge in meadows filled with wildflowers and eventually reached an open burn area where the fire had completely destroyed the trail. We did our best to track it, but ended up bushwhacking down a steep field of thimbleberry bushes and deadfall, trying not to break our ankles. There was a massive sigh of relief when we found our little path again at the end, following a creek down toward the valley where we'd rejoin a major trail again (we hoped, anyway).

After 17 miles or so, we came through a bright green meadow and found we'd reached the junction to a major thoroughfare. Rejoice! We celebrated with a picnic dinner in the meadow, then hiked a few more easy miles to camp.

The next day, we woke up early and strolled the four miles to Schafer Meadows, arriving at the far end of the wilderness airstrip. A tiny plane landed just as we arrived, then another. They were ferrying rafters to the Middle Fork to start a float trip. We stayed to watch for a bit. The airstrip was built before this land was designated as a Wilderness and so has been preserved and its maintenance grandfathered into the management of this area.

*A plane landing on the Schafer airstrip, with the one that just landed parked in the foreground*

I saw the whole place again through my 21 year old eyes, jumping off that plane full of anticipation and blown away by the mountainscapes around me. I walked over to the station and peeked in the front door. A Montana Conservation Corps trail crew leader came out to chat. She let me come inside the station and even go upstairs to the little room above the kitchen where I lived that summer. It all looked just the same. Even smelled the same.

We walked down to the river. When I got to the waters edge, the view out over the valley was exactly as I remembered. The same snow streaked peaks and bright green aspens glittering in the breeze. I cried with joy to see it again and to share it with Jonathan, who did so much legwork to make sure we made it there. I felt an immense gratitude for him and for how he shows me love in such beautiful, personal ways.

*The view from the banks of the Middle Fork behind the Schafer Ranger Station*

*Molly fords the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, just after leaving Schafer Meadows*

Back at the station, we pulled out lunch supplies and our MCC friend, Sarah, brought out a grapefruit and an apple that she'd cut up for us. She stayed to chat for a while and even offered to take our trash (a true gesture of friendship for a thruhiker). We learned that there wasn't a Forest Service crew stationed there this year due to the federal budget cuts. She and two other MCC members were doing the work of 6 Forest Service employees – they would cover less than half of the territory normally maintained, which she knew would make it harder next year and beyond. Her warm reception made our visit exceptional, but I was sad to hear that the station wouldn’t have the same life as it had in years past.

Heading back to the CDT, we forded the Middle Fork and walked up the valley from Schafer up to Chair Mountain for one of the most spectacular views out there (though you do have to work for it). You can see the Schafer Meadows airstrip far below and then just mountains all around, as far as the eye can see in every direction. It's so remote that it's hard to imagine the developed world existing beyond the horizon. Like maybe the mountains just extend on and on forever. We followed the ridge up and over to Trilobite Mountain then back down to meet the CDT.

A Return to Schafer Meadows

The Beginning