The pristine meadow. Home away from home for the next five days. By the time I set eyes on home base, I had been introduced to the real reason why I was in such an unspoiled place—to cut grass. But here was the pristine meadow Lauren had in mind for us. It was Lauren Mork’s research project involving the fragile ecosystem of the Kaibab Plateau that had brought us together, and this was where she had in mind for us to pitch camp. No complaints from me. It was beautiful.
From the time I pulled into the Grand Canyon Trust’s (GCT) parking lot, I became second fiddle. It was time to be a follower. It was Lauren’s research that was bringing the 10 of us plus Gray, the dog, together. We were the volunteers who followed exactly what Lauren, in her second year at Northern Arizona University’s graduate school, told us to do. It was up to Travis Wiggins, GCT’s volunteer coordinator, to provide the fr
amework to make the grass-cutting “machine” work. The pair, Lauren and Travis, were so in sync you would have thought they were identical twins; they knew each other’s thoughts before even speaking them. Whatever it was that worked between these two, we were in for the time of our lives. For example, even when the monsoons rearranged our plans on more than one occasion, Lauren and Travis seamlessly switched gears, put “Plan B” into action, and off we went.
How it is possible to bring together a group of people ranging in age from early 20’s to 70 plus and foster the camaraderie we had is still a mystery to me. We all brought something to the table, and all of it was needed, enjoyed, understood, and treasured. The fire pit manager, the Dutch oven queen, the wisdom-of-over-50-GCT-volunteer-trips guru—they were all there. From my teacher’s perspective, I couldn’t believe that a group of diverse people, representing multiple skill levels, just did what needed to be done. This doesn’t happen in school! Once we neophytes got up to speed, Lauren or Travis rarely had to give instructions; we knew what to do. Perfect synchrony. Harmonizing on the plateau. Whatever it was, it was great.
I also had no idea you could feast while camping in the wilderness. Thai chicken curry over rice. Chili—like no chili you’ve ever made in your kitchen even with all the modern conveniences! Cornbread, brownies, pineapple upside down cake. Scrambled eggs to die for. Toasted bagels. Hamburgers made with meat so fresh you actually felt guilty. After all, you were eating the aunt, uncle, or cousin of the GCT cattle grazing somewhere on the Kane and 2 Mile Ranches. Talk about a side benefit. I made the curry dish at home. Julia Child of the Wilderness lives! She’s named Travis and fellow campers.
When Lauren said she knew of a pristine meadow for our campsite, she definitely understated the reality. And it wasn’t just the campsite’s untouched beauty. There were the clicks of the grasshoppers jumping with your every step, the wind gently blowing through the leaves of the Aspen, and the sky. I don’t think you can trade the Arizona sky and clouds for anything better,
especially in monsoon season. The clouds billowing up behind tree-topped horizons or cliff edges or even the rims of the Grand Canyon are not to be missed. When I show my pictures from the trip, I repeatedly apologize for the number of “cloud” pictures. They were gorgeous. The one sight I did look forward to I thought I was going to be denied—the beauty of the night sky. But, on the last evening, almost as if I willed it, the clouds parted, and there they were—the stars covering almost every square inch of the sky as I remembered them from my childhood in rural Virginia. The Milky Way was thrown in for good measure.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the wildlife sounds, more specifically, the coyote yelps and howls. It’s one thing to sit around the evening fire as dusk is closing in with only faces and bodies illuminated and hear the awakening coyotes, but to be jerked awake in the dead of very dark nights inside your tent by the same sounds takes a little getting used to. I have decided I will take my own coyote-deterrent system on my next GCT trip—two pots for clanging together just in case the animals of the night decide to venture too close to camp. Travis was adamant that we were safe because coyotes are as afraid of us as we are of them. Comforted? Yes. Pots-clanging system? Extra insurance. On the last night I was able to follow Travis’s advice and absorb the coyote sounds into the other sounds of nature. Amazingly, I went right back to sleep once his wisdom floated back to my memory.
But we did work. This was, after all, what actually linked us to the GCT. Lauren’s research needed manual labor to cut and sort vegetation that had grown on the Kaibab Plateau after the Warm Fire of 2006. Her hypothesis centered on the U.S. Forest Service’s two-year grazing policy already in existence. Basically, we were helping to determine if two years after a fire is enough time to allow for vegetation growth before putting cattle back out on the land to graze. Our job as volunteers was to cut the vegetation off pre-determined areas and sort what was cut. Lauren’s symbiotic relationship with GCT was perfect—two entities joined together for common environmental good while benefitting each individually. I was amazed. Lauren was the master of the grasses, and we did as we were instructed. She was so dedicated to her project so that data outcomes would be unquestionable and useful for future policy revisions. We embraced her professional and personal drive. On one particular plot on what was a humid day for Arizona, my kids and I decided that the word tedious had been redefined. C-3’s, forbes, cheatgrass, thistle, even shrubbery—it was all there and in abundance. We cut, avoided, and sorted as directed and helped by Lauren. We persevered. You want tedious? We know a place.
By far the cowboys were the highlight of the trip. Oh yes, you read correctly. Cowboys and cattle drives. Chaps, stirrups, cattle-herding dogs—it was all there. Because the research was about livestock grazing, there had to be cattle and the cowboys, but I never envisioned what that might look like. It was right out of the wild, wild west as far as I was concerned. It occurred to me that these cowboys mounted, rode, and handled their horses like you and I get in our cars and go. Automatically. Yelling, rein-pulling, stirrup hitting without hesitation. Wow.
Many people ask me if I would do this again. Unequivocally, yes. Lauren will be finished with her graduate work, but GCT is always in need of volunteers for a wide variety of projects such as ridding the Arizona river and stream banks of tamarisk. Whatever I chose to do, th
ough, one thing is certain. I will be in the hands of a remarkable, forward-thinking organization, will eat some of the best grub available (and I don’t think it is the “special ingredient”—fresh air), and will come away a better person. I will be better for the people I met, the cause I worked for, and the time spent learning about things I had no idea I didn’t know! That was the bonus of the experience. GCT has it going, as the younger generation would say. Good for them. I only hope I can help them with their goal of restoration and conservation of northern Arizona when the summer of 2010 rolls around.
Annie Herbert
GCT Volunteer 2009
these amazing volunteers on the west side fo the Kaibab Plateau for a Mule Deer Habitat Restoration Project. We spent a full day trimming Cliffrose and hand seeding pounds of natives back into the Earth. It was a gorgeous Saturday filled with great energy! 
