Early Days in the Forest Service Volume 4

LETTERS TO FOLKS BACK HOME - JULY AND SEPTEMBER 1929

(Ed. Note: The following are two letters from William F. Guntermann, fire lookout on the St. Joe National Forest back in 1929, to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. William Guntermann in Santa Barbara, California. Young Guntermann was stationed at Bird Point Lookout when it was first manned and called Bird Creek Lookout. The letters had Avery, Idaho, postmarks.)

Bird Creek Lookout
July 2, 1929
I R. Scribner

Dear Folks:

Well, it has sure been a long time since I last wrote, but I have been busy. Anyway, no mail has gone out. It is drier this year than last. The season opened sooner, so the big rush of pack strings was over when I got here, and mail does not come in and go out so often.

I worked on trails for 3 days with some other young fellows. Then for 2 days I showed a new fellow from U. of Minnesota (John Hunt) around and taught him the ropes in trail work, fire detection, and fighting fire. Then I was sent over here. I have been making camp ever since. It has sure been a job, because I have put the tent right on the peak a few feet from the map board and telephone. It is nearly solid rock, and I had to dig way into the steep slope to get a flat place big enough for my tent. Now I am just finishing my bunk and table. Everything must be made out of split logs. I tried splitting a green spruce log 231 feet in diameter yesterday to make my bunk with. It took me all afternoon, and I wouldn't have done it then except for an idea I got when I remembered a picture I had seen a long time ago of Abe Lincoln splitting a log. It worked fine. I still have to make an egg box, (I have them, 12 dozen, buried outside now so they will keep). I have to make a meat box, toilet, slop hole, washstand, kettle rack, and shelves for various purposes. So I have lots to do yet. Besides I have to get my 2 weeks reserve supply of wood before a "high up" come around.

The weather is much warmer this year than last year. It is about the same for dryness, I guess. The flies, mosquitoes, buffalo gnats, and "noseeums" are terrible this year. My hands and face look like I have the measles. I am going to write to the Missoula Drug Co. and see if I can get some Flit, Bel Dent, films and citric acid on credit until fall. I guess I could send some cash to start an account, though, I never thought of that before. Citric acid sure goes over big here. While at Quarles Peak Ranger Station we all went fishing a couple of times and made lemonade. U.S. furnishes a few lemons this year, too, so we had some lemons to make it taste right.

The wind has blown hard this afternoon and has blown most of the bugs away, but this a.m., when I woke up, one side of the tent inside was nearly black with mosquitoes and buffalo gnats.

While at Quarles Sunday before last five of us went fishing into Montana. Three of us were college kids; the other two were young woodsmen. We went to a small lake where we fished, rowed on rafts, and explored old mines. We found a pile of magazines dating from 1905 to 1925, and we packed them home, so we have a little to read, anyway.

The second night I was here on Bird Creek Lookout, I was sent over 2 miles to old Blackie's (Blacky Longley) camp. I was sure glad to see him. He says he wrote me at 1355 Dove and got the letter back. He didn't trap last year, because on his way through Butte to his district, he was slugged and lost all his cash, pack, and guns. The latter nearly broke his heart. He got them all back the other day from the sheriff in Butte who found them. He was sure sorry to let on that anyone had been good enough and awake enough to slug him. He thought no man or men on earth could lick him. He looks lots older this year, but is still strong as an ox and happy again. He worked in the A.C.M. camps near Missoula all winter. He is now grub staking old Con Faircloth, an old pal of his who is 72 years old and who can't do much work any more. Con is doing a little digging for gold and has found color pretty heavy. Con can still run off with a pack that I wouldn't tackle.

Next morning I left Blackie's at 8:00 a.m. and started for the St. Joe River with the records of his camp for June. I got on the wrong trail after hunting for blazes for over an hour in one place and got to the river far below where I was to meet Charlie Scribner. It was 9-1/2 miles that morning over terrible trails. The trails led through wonderful woods of hemlock and spruce, though. And the river was sure a great sight for sore eyes. It is sure a beautiful river with crystal clear water running fast and with timber growing right down to the water's edge on steep slopes that are nearly straight up and down.

I ate lunch with Charlie and the assistant superintendent (Frank Foltz) and camp keeper at Turner's Flats and then went up the river fishing as I went. I was in it up to my hips at times and had a hard time standing up. The cold water felt great on my blisters in my boots. It kept me from getting more that afternoon, too. I didn't get any fish for 3 miles. Then I turned up Bird Creek and went along it and caught some beauties. Bird Creek basin from my lookout is the most desolate looking hub you ever set eyes on, but right down on the creek it is absolutely great. The woods are very thick along the creek for several hundred feet. There is very little light coming through the thick growth of cedars and white pine even on a real sunny day. The ferns are so thick you can't see the trail at all. They are as high as I am, too. The creek roars and booms its way down the canyon through, over, and under logjams, etc. Cedars from 2 to 6 feet through have fallen across it all along and make it look wild and weird. It makes you think all the Schwartz Wald stories, etc. I shot a huge porky along there. I could barely lift him off the ground, so he was a giant specimen. Then I climbed out of the green woods that the 1910 fire had jumped over and got into the open and sunlight and old burn again. The trail was a cliff for several hundred feet. Then it leveled somewhat, but was still steep and was an awful trail. Half the time I couldn't even see any blazes. The windfalls and down logs were 10 or 15 feet deep in places. I went through, over, and under that stuff for about 31 miles to my peak. I was sure tired. It took me 3 hours and 15 minutes to make those last 3 miles, so it was sure tough going. I ached all over from climbing windfalls. It was 9:00 p.m. when I got in. I sure slept.

It is my job during the summer, whenever the fire danger is low, to work on that bad trail. I'll sure work slowly on it, but I'll make it resemble a trail anyway. I'll probably get about 11 mile or a mile of it done all summer. What is worrying me is that fire might start in all that stuff. It seems nearly crazy to me to try to fight fire there.

I'll write the kids and Paul one of these days when I get things set up for housekeeping.

A lookout job is slow part of the time, but I have lots of time to yoddle Gregson's music, to brush my teeth three times a day, to study surveying that I have forgotten, and to learn to play the mouth organ that I have. I wouldn't have time for any of it, if I were at the Ranger Station or elsewhere. I get plenty of exercise making things and carrying 9 gallons of water up from my spring over 1 mile away every day and keeping the main trails in good shape for 2 mile around me.

Love,
     Willie

Dear Folks',

You would have a swell time trying to come and see me here or even in Cal's. woods. Up here the country is so rough that the nearest spot for a camp would be 2 miles from here. And that is in old burn, but nice nevertheless. There are lots about old burn that green timber can't boast of. But, of course, I like green timber better. To come and see me you'd have to take a pack train from town and do some real camping for a few days. But it would be fun—except the second day of riding.

I didn't even know the Zeppelin was in America. How did that record endurance flight in St. Louis come out? And in Austin? They sure stayed up according to that paper Mama sent.

We have had big fires all around us this year, but have been lucky ourselves. Charlie Scribner (ranger) keeps us all tuned for fires all during the season, though. He doesn't get as much trail built and protection costs more than other rangers, but his fires never get a fair start even. He knows his oats and doesn't try to get in good at St. Maries or Missoula by cutting protection costs and by taking his lookouts off to do trail work all the time. The district south of us is run by a good guy, too. He isn't a ranger, but in the absence of enough rangers they let him run it. They get more there than we do all the time. But they haven't had a big fire either. They had 48 lightening fires at one time in an area of about 60 square miles. They haven't found them all yet, but they killed them all so that nothing came out of it. They get treated like that about every 3 weeks over there. They don't have time to rest hardly.

The Army wouldn't do much good, except save money, unless they were really trained for fires and posted in towns like Avery in the woods. The fires get big while the men are hiking from town to where the fire is. There is an army of unemployed lumber jacks in Spokane all the time. They all know how to fight fires and are all good with ax and saw. Soldiers wouldn't be as good as sawyers or axmen. They probably would take it easy on fires, too. They can get 1000 jacks out of Spokane and St. Maries any time, but the ride on the train and the long hikes (up to 60 or 70 miles) take too much time. The woods here are awful dry in summer. We get nearly all the fires, but once in a while about one out of every 500 gets going in a deep canyon where no lookouts can see. The smoke may lay flat on the ground below the treetops for days, so no one could see it anyway. Then a favorable hot day and wind bring it to light after it is several acres big. Then lookouts and trail crews and smoke chasers go for it, and it is growing all the time they are hiking their heads off to get there. They usually are at least winded when they do get there. It is hard work going through these rough, log strewn woods with 40 pounds on one's back. Then they fight the fire and a lookout keeps his eyes on it for size, etc. Maybe no lookout can see it. Then, if it gets too big, they send a man to the nearest phone for help, which takes hours again. If a lookout can see it, then he phones in the orders for more men and grub, etc., wherever he thinks the fire looks like it is getting away. The whole business is no joke and isn't easy as in Oregon or Germany where it rains all the time. But they are working on a new system in Washington by which they will have a trained crew of some many hundred men who are efficient fighters. They will somehow keep them busy during the whole year; instead of letting them go to stray all over the country. Some come back (most, in fact) but they have to use so many greenhorns every year.

The main thing is money. Everybody tries to cut down expenses because of party politics, etc., etc. If Congress would appropriate (or someone) enough to really cover the whole woods where it is needed and to open up whole forests where there are as yet no trails or men, then the fires wouldn't get away so often. The Forest Service can do the work, if they can have the money to do it with.

The weather has warmed up somewhat again. It is still cold enough for wool shirt and underwear and a fire in the stove, but it hasn't frozen for three nights. The air is just nice and nippy. It snowed on the fourth of this month, but hasn't done much since. It looks like more snow right now, so I may get to leave this peak soon. Charlie has promised to let me go over to Blacky Longley's camp in Entente Creek (in green timber near streams and lakes). The old fellow is alone and doesn't like it so much. He wants me to come over. He got a lot older since last year and doesn't like to be alone anymore. He used to be able to live a year a stretch without seeing a soul. He can't hold a gun as steady or hike as far as last year, too. It gets his goat. But he is still strong enough to break big logs and can shoot better than any man in this forest. He is proud of the fact that he, with one partner, can make trail as fast as four-or-five men camps. He goes ahead and drags, pushes, or breaks all the logs and young trees in the way—what other men have to use ax and saw for. Then he uses the saw now and then to clean up. His partner just digs along behind and one man can hardly keep up with him. It usually takes two men behind with saw and axes, one to cut brush with brush hook, and two to dig, but Blackey's (Blacky Longley, lumberjack and trapper) camp of two men makes more trail actually than the five do. His partner got tired and quit 3 weeks ago, so he is making trail alone now.

Until I leave here I have a job of making a mile of trail down to the creek from my spring. I probably won't finish it, but the lookout next year can do it. I've done up two trail jobs since the first already.

A little bear was around again trying to get into the tent. He was inexperienced, though, because he didn't know where the door was, nor how to lift up the wall of the tent, so he didn't get in. I'd like to get a bear rug, but I don't want to kill a bear to get it. I'll go down and see the sheepherder the first clear day we have and see if he has any. He has to kill them to keep them away from the sheep.

I haven't decided to go to Missoula yet. Oregon would be a good place, but my cash wouldn't last the first quarter unless I got a good job, which isn't probable right away. The country is sure it for logging and lumbering. I just read a book on it by the dean of Forestry at Corvallis. But Missoula is a great place to be and darn hard country to leave. Besides I want to see some more of the country (Glacier, for example) before I leave it. My cash would last nearly through the first quarter without a job and I could get a job quicker. But I couldn't go home for Christmas unless I wait until then to move to Oregon, which would be a good idea. But Missoula is probably healthier country (although colder than sin). Whenever I get enough cash to have an estate - ahem - it will be a nice house in Missoula or on a hill slope overlooking the whole Valley, town, and mountains. You just can't beat Missoula.

I guess I've raved long enough so will sign off and cook dinner.

Willie

P.S. I'll probably be around here until the 25th or so. Then, ?Quien sabe? until I get a room somewhere.