“Once they become big kids, the second year, they get double bits,” Cali says. And some of the “kids” become ax collectors, finding tools with a special history and building a collection.

Many traditions are guarded, but some become visible in the crew’s work habits. As crew leader, Cali plans each meal for the week and cooks breakfast and dinner every day at the shelter at which they camp. First-years do the dishes, and second- or fourth-years help with food preparation or camp cleanup.

On weekends, trail crew members play hard, spending their days off together, usually outside; their evenings are filled with loud music and revelry. During the week, it’s different. Ben says he used to turn in by 8 p.m. Cali and his crew follow suit, cooking dinner, and, Cali says, “eat[ing] until it hurts.” Stitch adds, “It’s a tragedy if we’re not asleep by the time the sun goes down.”

Education
Matt is digging his boots into the soil to roll the rock out of the brush. “Every time you do this, you get stronger,” he says. “It feels pretty good actually.”

His rock education is more nuanced than muscling a boulder. Matt must also learn to set his rock so it doesn’t budge. “If [first-years] learn to set rocks so Cali and Stitch can’t stomp ’em out, it doesn’t get much better than that,” Everett explains. Achieving this standard can be difficult.

Everett learned under Stitch, who was his crew leader last season. Stitch, like Cali, has “heavy feet” and can consistently jump, stomp, and hop a first-year’s rock loose. “I had a hard time getting a rock to stick,” Everett says.

That’s why AMC’s professional trail crew is known nationally for the longevity of what it builds. The ethic of hard work is indelibly tied to the crew’s tradition of learn-by-doing. There are no books, exams, or study guides. There are only the tools, the other crew members, and the willingness to engage in a season’s worth of intense physical education.

“All of our knowledge is passed on by the upper-years,” Cali says. “The only way to teach is to do it hands-on, basically.”

Ominous clouds are overtaking the sun by the time Cali cups his hands to his mouth, takes a deep breath in, and bellows out a “Foooooo-ooooo,” a low call that increases in pitch and volume. Everett lays down his shovel and throws his helmet on the ground. Grabbing his backpack, he heads toward Cali and the others. It’s lunchtime.

“Foo” is a traditional means of communication among crew members. It marks meal times and wake-up calls, and a person’s location.

The crew members bushwhack a short distance into the woods, finding trees and moss-covered boulders to rest against. Cans of pineapple chunks, peanut butter, roast beef, cheese, tuna fish packets, spinach wraps, Oreo cookies, and M&Ms are passed around. It’s quiet at first, then small talk, laughing, Cali checking on people’s progress. They have half an hour before the work day resumes.

Since her visit with the crew, Karen Finogle, the magazine’s senior editor and
an avid backpacker, has developed an admiring eye for the anatomy of the trails
she hikes.

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