I’ve just arrived to my new home, Bozeman, Montana. My blue Subaru Forrester (how little did I know what a perfect fit that would be) is packed with my belongings. My dad and I step outside, our faces greeted by a cool breeze. We inhale, and look at each other. “Do you smell that,” he asks. I nod. Yes, I smell that- clean crisp mountain air.
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The road to Hyalite has just opened. It’s mid-May, and the reservoir is still frozen and the trees are powdered with snow. We sit along the rocks drinking wine, warmed by our small fire. A comfortable silence settles between us and I watch the soft orange glow of the sun slowly disappear.
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We’ve reached the top of Ramshorn Peak, and now we’re hiking along the ridge. We see mountain goats below, and a gut pile with scavengers soaring overhead. The mountain goats are so nimble compared to our awkward scramble over rock screes. The detour back to the lake takes longer than expected, and we’re eager to set up camp. The next morning we wake to a few inches of snow.
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These snapshots from my life in Bozeman create distinct memories that I fondly remember. These collective memories create an album of images, sound, and emotion. Of course, some images are faded and hazy around the edges, and some may be missing faces, but the emotions leave an everlasting imprint. And while these memories are distinctly my own, they’re not unique. They are rather ordinary, and stories we can all relate to. They are feelings that we all understand.
I don’t distinctly remember the first time I experienced “wilderness.” My version of wilderness growing up in San Diego, CA is very different than our wilderness here. But the network of canyon and beach trails still inspired me to love the outdoors. I imagined myself as a warrior princess, or an explorer with Lewis and Clark, or as a wizard living in the tress. Being outside captured my imagination and created a place where I could be whoever I wanted. Encroachment of development only furthered such passion; I held on to what little places were left.
Part of what makes Bozeman so special is our easy access to nearby wild mountain ranges; namely, the Gallatin Range. The Gallatin Range extends from Bozeman south through Yellowstone National Park, making it the backyard to those of us from Big Sky to Bozeman, and Livingston to Gardiner. But it is also home to a diversity of wildlife unlike anywhere else in the lower 48, making it a crucial wildlife corridor for migrating species, and has a compilation of rich natural history. It is the diversity of landscapes, within one mountain range, that hosts such a diversity of wildlife and natural features.

Across ideology, political spectrum, and background, we love these mountains. Whether it is hunting, wildlife-viewing or hiking, the joy of being in the fresh air and away from orderly streets calls us. We eagerly wait for the moment we can get off of work on Friday to head out on our next adventure. We play hooky in the winter when there is fresh snow. We stay up late drinking PBR or local Montana brew (a Cold Smoke, anyone?) and then we wake up the next morning to go fly fishing. We are over qualified for the jobs we have, but we don’t care. This thrill brought us to Bozeman, and keeps us here.

It is the wild nature of the mountains that entice us and the wildlife that inhabits its drainages and peaks. Without these key elements, the Gallatin Range, and our lives revolving around it, would not be so special. And so with all of our excitement comes an increased pressure on the land. Our collective actions have negative impacts to the trails, wildlife, and rivers. And with the lack of permanent protection to the Gallatin Range, what was once wild and rugged could be noisy and crowded, degrading the landscape and wildlife habitat. The escape we seek is threatened.  So what does this mean? How can we take a snapshot of what was and what is for what will be and what can be?  

In this attempt to preserve those cherished moments and to protect the valued land where those moments are created, we, at the Sierra Club, have started an Oral History of the Gallatin Range. The idea came from volunteer Jeff Copeland, who grew up in Bozeman. He would (and still does) hang out with his friends’ moms, hearing their adventurous stories. This group of ladies is affectionately known as the BWAGs, or Bozeman Women Activity Group. This inspired Jeff to start an oral history project, to document their stories of backcountry adventure in the Gallatin Range, and to highlight the value of leaving wild places untouched. We are also working with a graduate student, Maggie Smith, at MSU’s Science and Natural History Filmmaking program. A taste of this film was shown the first week of May at the Exit Gallery. The interactive installation, entitled Capital W: Forever Wild, Forever Free immersed participants in a wilderness experience, inviting them to be part of the exhibit.

It is this idea of stories- your story, my story, and our collective story that motivates us to understand what we truly have. It is the story of Joe Gutkoski who used to work for the Forest Service as their first landscape architect. As Joe always says, “I’m proudest of the projects that I stopped,” such as a proposed road cutting through the southern portion of the Range from Big Sky to Gardiner. It is the story of Anne Banks with the BWAGs, or Jeff himself, backpacking the Crest as a teenager. It is all of our stories.

And ultimately, it is the story of the land- of the rugged landscape itself, with all its inhabitants both animate and inanimate. It is the conglomerate of rocks at Ramshorn Peak, the frozen waterfalls near Hyalite, and the wildflowers of Windy Pass. It is the story of ecological processes, such as the wildfire by West Pine, where new growth creates a bright green understory, as a reminder of the circular nature of life. It is knowing that such a special place can and does exist, and that we are all part of its story.

Wilderness is not a separate “other.” We are a part of wilderness just as much as it is a part of us. It feeds our excitement, fuels our energy, and restores our distracted minds. It then only makes sense to not only preserve our stories, but to preserve the land itself. In an ever-changing world such preservation allows us to escape to a time and place where electronic leashes do not matter, and where fantasy becomes reality. Being in the wilderness is a humbling experience, a reminder that we are all vulnerable. Such vulnerability exposes our true character. It allows us to take our kids backpacking for the first time, and watch the excitement and wonder in their faces. And ultimately, it allows us to hold onto a little bit of sanity.

I invite you to join us and tell your story. Be part of our project. You can contact me via email at kiersten.iwai@sierraclub.org, or call at 406 582-8365.   

Kiersten Iwai is an organizer with the Sierra Club’s Our Wild America, based in Bozeman, Montana. Visit the project’s website at https://montana.sierraclub.org/CapitalW