By Pat Hart
Almost 30 years ago West Fork cabin burned. The cabin sat in a Selkirk high elevation meadow, facing Joe Peak. It had been built in 1931 as a “smoke chaser” cabin. Over the years it had been used to house Forest Service trail crews, snow survey crews, and wildlife surveyors as well as fire fighters. It had always been open to a respectful public. Hikers, horsemen, skiers and snowmobilers all used the cabin. West Fork cabin represented a lot of things to a lot of people: a lost way of life, a shelter in the winter, a curiosity, a yearly sojourn.
It represented caring and respect beyond differences; the very best that can happen between people and the land. A place so special that people cared for the meadows and packed-out trash, painted walls and donated time and heart. A place where people of very different values set aside personal agendas, worked together, and just felt lucky for the chance.
Rocky, my trail crew boss, introduced me to the cabin. The beauty took my breath away. We set the saw down, took off our packs and shared coffee in the nastiest cup I’ve ever seen, while sitting on the cabin steps. Rocky and I were not similar, yet the cabin held us in gratefulness and quiet awe. We were at West Fork Cabin with all its splendor and history.
Whether through negligence or mean spirit, almost 30 years ago the cabin burned.
It hurt.
The cabin and the community are on my mind right now. The week after the cabin burned, a caring and game District Ranger got permission to re-build it. It seemed almost an impossible dream. The caveats were: the new cabin needed to sit on the footprint of the old, it needed to replicate the old cabin precisely, it had to be completed that year and there was absolutely no money.
The local newspaper published my request for help. The response was immediate and whole-hearted.
That year: A civil engineer re-drew all the old cabin plans, private timber company sawyers cut the necessary trees, a log truck driver delivered the logs to a couple who built log homes. An alternative school sent students to peel the logs. The couple scribed and fit every log into place for the cabin. Forest Service youth crews prepared the site. A young mason gave up his weekend to lay block for the foundation. A Forest Service retiree who had honey-mooned in the cabin in 1939 coerced donations for materials. Companies donated flooring, windows, roofing, flatbed trailers and more. The sports writer for the Spokesman Review sent a monetary donation.
Volunteers came from Michigan, Iowa, Oklahoma and Texas. They came as individuals and as groups; The Eagles, Backcountry Horsemen, Sierra Club, American Hiking Society, the Panhandle Free trappers. A helicopter contractor donated a second ship and crew, “because he wanted to get home early enough to take his daughter to birthday dinner.”
I choose not to list names lest I forget anyone. The gifts were profound. At the end of the season, the cabin stood. It wasn’t the cabin of old, but it could fill your soul if you let it.
I never want to see that cabin burn again, but I miss the community who built it.
People of all faiths, politics, backgrounds, educational levels and incomes worked together, each giving his/her very best for a place of inherent worth. I do not believe these are merely halcyon memories. I believe we used to have more space for each other’s differences than we do now.
Just as the cabin represented the very best that can happen between people and the land, I crave a release from the exhaustion of difference. I seek solace in the best of what can happen between people: dignity, caring and respect beyond differences, compassion.
The cabin still stands. My heart still holds the hope of shared community.
Thank you Pat for this story, l knew some of it but it’s nice to know the rest of the story. I was lucky enough to visit that cabin, the original one, and l could feel the warmth of that cabin, it has a lot of love that was in it. While l have the chance, l would like to thank you for all the work you have done for the public. I hoped a lot of those trails that you cleaned up with crews for my 40 years of hiking in the Selkirks. I’ve also followed you on a few hikes and found out I couldn’t keep up. Thank you again for all you’ve done in our forest Pat, thank you.
Hello Pat,
Thanks for this story. And thanks for the good time I had in 1991 as an volunteer with FS during the youth camps you were organizing. That time we worked around the West Fork Cabin. In 2024 I returned with my wife Ada to the cabin and even better, we were able to meet you.
Thanks for everything and more!
Marco Suesse, Germany
What a beautiful cabin and message of hope. Thank you Pat!