The mules each carry two packs loaded with carpentry supplies that will aid the restoration and upkeep of the historic ranger station during the park’s summer months when park crews work to repair or create trails, cabins, and complete other projects before the winter returns to the northern Montana park.

Trail Crew

Leading the string of mules is Jill Michalak, who began working at Glacier in 2017. A member of the trails crew, Michalak’s job is to take care of and work with the mules and pack supplies as needed into and out of the park.

“The mules allow us to preserve and access the wilderness,” says Michalak. “Many of these areas not only don’t allow motorized vehicles, but don’t allow chainsaws. The mules have lots of different jobs. They work for the trail crew.”

Further south, contract packer Chris Eyer leads his own team of mules into the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex (BMWC) out of his home base in Ovando, Mont. While Michalak works for the National Park Service, Eyer is employed by whichever licensed outfitter or arm of the United States Forest Service (USFS) needs him and his mules to move loads.

“I’ve packed boats for people going on rafting trips, mattresses, lumber, and things like that,” says Eyer. “As a contract packer, I also get hired by contractors who are not outfitters but work for the Forest Service, [for example] rebuilding a dam or bridge that is too big or specialized for the Forest Service.”

When hikers, mountain bikers, trail runners, and other equestrians use a trail system in America’s National Park System, public lands, or designated wilderness area, it’s more than likely that a mule carted in the equipment necessary to maintain that trail or build the outhouse they use that’s far back from the roadway.

Mules have carried the load for decades, aiding building, maintaining, exploring and surviving in the wilderness.

Packing with Purpose

Americans visited National Parks 312 million times in 2022, more than 15 million more visits than in 2021, according to the National Park Service. Most of those visitors never venture more than a mile into the park along a well-used and easily accessed trail. Yet there is a segment that opts to dig deeper into the National Park and wilderness areas considered public lands.

There are 63 National Parks, but more than 250 million acres of other public lands all managed by the U.S. Department of the Interior. Within that, the U.S. Forest Service facilitates work to ensure that public lands, like the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex, is accessible to users.

That’s where packers like Eyer step in. Since 2006, he’s made a living packing cargo and other items for the USFS, the Bob Marshall Wilderness Foundation, and other contracted outfitters.

“The backcountry is for all users, from hikers and horses to skiers and runners,” he explains. “Mules bring in gear to keep the land open for all of these groups.”

Along with recreation, the wilderness areas provide opportunity to study many ecosystems and species without interacting with human population centers. Both Eyer and Michalak have packed in biologists completing research projects. Eyer has even brought in insects to the Big Prairie Ranger Station in the Flathead National Forest within BMWC.

“Packing in bugs is super complicated,” he says. “Never has more labor gone into a load that is as small as those bugs. The day before I leave to go in, there are people out in a field, on hands and knees collecting bugs to put into a canister. The bugs then go into a cooler to be kept from overheating. That is loaded onto a mule in the center of a load where they won’t be baked in the sun. As soon as I get to where I’m going, I unload mules and turn them out, then immediately head out with the USFS crew to release the weevils to a certain area where they go to attack an invasive weed species.”

For Michalak, who has worked as a packer in Alaska and at Olympic National Park, the most interesting project she packed equipment for was one conducted there by NASA.

“They were doing a project where they were ground truthing for a Doppler radar system,” she recalls. “We packed 15 miles into Enchanted Valley, packing lasers and solar panels. If you look at Olympic Peninsula, there is no other way to get into there except for mules, because there are no motorized options.” The project was projecting weather for a massive population center 200 miles away, in Seattle.

“In this day in age, mules were the way we got $30,000 laser equipment into the research area,” she adds.

Knowing which of the mules in a string is going to be more careful with a load and not apt to bump trees is important when carting expensive equipment. But most often, the loads carried are more common items, such as lumber, gravel, tools and food supplies.

Pack It On

Boxes wrapped in canvas are a typical scene if you’re hiking and encounter a mule string on the trail. Those boxes usually include food, tents and other items to make camp, or supplies to help restore a cabin. Restoration projects and construction are some of the most frequent loads for mules to make, especially into National Parks.

“The Park Service maintains a standard that anything older than 50 years is considered historic and must be maintained to those standards,” says Michalak. “When we packed into the Belly River Ranger Station, they were updating that cabin. [Carpenters] sourced the lumber for the flooring from the surrounding forest, but the lumber for the porch, we packed in. People wonder why we don’t use a helicopter, and there are a few reasons. First, they didn’t historically bring those items in by helicopter. Second, a lot of the National Parks have regulations as to how much aircraft traffic can go over the park.”

From Beams to Outhouses

The same goes for building or repairing a bridge or constructing a new dam, both of which are projects Eyer has packed materials for into the BMWC.

“Anything that is associated with the wilderness that requires heavy equipment or more than people can carry relies on mules,” he says. “The most challenging project was a bridge project where I packed tandem loads of steel columns that attached to two mules at the same time. It was a seven-week project.” Each pair packed two 186-pound steel beams.

From dams to outhouses, all the projects constructed in the backcountry rely on mule power to bring the items in or take them out.

“It’s common for bears to tear apart outhouses, and the park doesn’t leave those pieces out there,” says Michalak. “We pack those items—anything that won’t naturally decompose—out of the backcountry. Things like outhouses don’t just appear. While it would take a trail crew half a summer to haul those materials in, it takes a mule string one trip.”

Mules on a Mission

It can seem like a peaceful job, with the quiet of the wilderness all around, the echo of hooves ringing on the trails and the wide-open spaces. But there are many dangers associated with working in the backcountry, and they’re not only bear-related. Annually, fires ravage the land within national parks and designated public lands.

“There is an entire segment of packing that is focused on fire work,” says Eyer. “There are fire lookouts, fire crews, and a lot of work to keep the wilderness from burning, even though much of the wilderness has a ‘let it burn’ policy. Supplies have to be given to the people living in the lookouts for the fire season—food, water and all supplies.”

The parks also have to bring search and rescue crews to an injured person, but rarely airlift them out to decrease the mechanized noise. However, Michalak recalls one incident where her mules were used as Medivac, and not only to pack in supplies to those rescuing Backcountry Rangers.

“Once, at Olympic National Park, a woman broke her ankle about 11 miles down the trail,” she says. “There was a huge team of people looking for her, and the weather was really, really bad. I went in with a string of mules and packed the search and rescue team and EMT team’s food and tents in so they could focus on patient care. That was the only [person] I’ve ever packed out on a mule. She was a rare case because she grew up cowboying and had experience riding. Otherwise, the search and rescue team was going to carry her those 11 miles on a [stretcher].”

A Thank You to Backcountry Mules

Whether carting in tools and food to ensure that the park rangers get through a summer season or hauling in new lumber to build a bridge for access to the wilderness, mules are the ultimate cargo crew in the backcountry.

Without four legs to help build and maintain the infrastructure, America’s public lands wouldn’t be so easily accessed.

This article about the working mules of our public lands appeared in the April 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post The Working Mules of our Public Lands appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

On August 31, 2020, the Trinity Alps Pack Mules were preparing to hit the trail in Northern California’s Six Rivers National Forest when the wind kicked up, spreading a nearby spot fire toward camp. The team, which was scheduled to resupply firefighters battling the Red Salmon Complex, shifted gears. To ensure the safety of equines and packers alike, they quickly broke down their gear and relocated. But within hours, they were back on the trail en route to the fire line.

The Forest Service and other agencies have been managing wildfires on federal lands for more than 100 years. For most of that time, horses and especially mules have played an essential role, ferrying everything from food to fuel (for saws) into the wilderness. And while the need for stock animals in these roles is on the rise, their use is declining, notes Guy Zoellner, wilderness trails supervisor for the Spotted Bear Ranger District in the Flathead National Forest.

According to the Pack Stock Center of Excellence, in the early 1900s, the U.S. Forest Service’s Southwest Region alone had roughly 2,000 stock animals and more than 100 packers. Today, that number has dwindled to roughly 120 animals, although the designated wilderness land has more than quadrupled.

Not only is there more land, there’s more fire. In recent decades, wildfires in the U.S. have been growing, not necessarily in number, but in size. In the two-decade span from 2000 to 2020, fire seasons torched an average of 7.1 million acres annually, more than double the typical 3.3 million acres that burned in the 1990s.

If 2020 is any indication, that trend is unlikely to reverse itself any time soon. It was a record year, with 10.3 million acres affected.

A number of wilderness areas throughout the U.S. continue using equines in fire suppression, mitigation, prevention, and even rehabilitation.

Why Equines Work

In a world in which advanced technology has become ubiquitous, reliance on equines fighting fires may come as a surprise. Surely, trucks or ATVs would be a faster way to deliver supplies? And anybody living near a recent wildfire likely knows that aircraft are frequently made available. The decision—and yes, on many levels, it is a decision—to use animals in fighting wildfires is multifaceted, but it has two key components: wilderness and circumstance.

“The thing about federal wilderness is the emphasis on primitive tools and primitive modes of transport,” explains Randy Rasmussen, Backcountry Horsemen of America’s director for public lands and recreation. Indeed, the 1964 Wilderness Act prohibits all things mechanized, from bicycles to chainsaws. Although there are provisions that allow exceptions in the case of wildfire, most agencies hesitate to apply for them unless safety is at stake.

Using mules and horses to support fire crews isn’t always just about preserving the character and intent of the wilderness. Often, it’s also the most practical choice. Mules, famously surefooted and sensible, can traverse terrain that would be impassable for most motorized vehicles.

In the steep, rugged mountains where the Red Salmon Complex fire burned, they made sense. What’s more, when heavy smoke (as often seen in California) or weather conditions hinder flight of planes and helicopters, the equines can still manage. In addition, using the mules frees up helicopters to do other jobs, such as transporting crew or dropping water on the flames.

Ins and Outs of Equines Fighting Fires

Regardless of the wilderness area they serve, most stock teams consist primarily of mules and a handful of horses. The mules are typically, although not always, used only for packing, while packers may ride horses to lead and bring up the back of the string.

When doing fire-related work, at least one person from an official fire crew typically travels with the equines and packers to ensure their safety. Despite the fact that wildfires typically operate under a federal management structure that allows resources to seamlessly go where they’re needed most, the work done by the equines is heavily location dependent.

It’s key to understand that much wildland firefighting is defensive in nature. Teams spend a lot of time digging fire lines—spaces free of grass, brush or other burnable fuel—and protecting structures with a fire-resistant wrap or cutting down nearby trees to create a “defensible space.”

That’s not to say that the teams never confront flames—they light fires that could burn back toward the wildfire, stamp out embers, and directly apply water, dirt or retardant to hotspots—but it is highly unlikely that the equines ever would. Their jobs on active fires range from defensive to strictly supportive in nature.

The most obvious job for equines fighting fires is to bring supplies to firefighters camped in the wilderness. This might be as simple as food and fuel. But it could also be pumps or wrap to protect a historic structure.

This is the work that the Trinity Alps Pack Mules were engaged in when their work was delayed. And it is impressive. Each mule typically carries between 120 and 200 pounds; with approximately seven to nine mules on a string, hiring a helicopter to transport the equivalent would cost thousands of dollars.

Digging Trail Lines

In the Flathead National Forest, Zoellner and his team occasionally use their trail plow to help with fire-related efforts, from clearing a line around a prescribed fire to protecting a structure.

“It drops the manpower to make this stuff super easy, and speeds it up,” says Zoellner. “We still have crews out there pulling out brush, but the mules smoke the people when it comes to digging trail.”

In Montana’s Glacier National Park, stock teams only support an active wildfire every three to five years, largely because they rarely see large fires. However, equines fighting fires do support four staffed fire lookouts throughout the summer, hauling supplies in and trash out every two weeks.

“These lookouts have been on these mountains since the 1930s, so we’re keeping up those traditions in historic places as part of our fire program,” explains the park’s Fire Management Officer Jeremy Harker. “We’re still using the old methods and the ways that we supply them. We could fly with a helicopter, but it’s expensive and it doesn’t fit the tradition or the wilderness portion of the business.”

Stock teams’ day-to-day routine also looks different depending on the type of wilderness they’re protecting. In Flathead, Zoellner’s approximately two dozen animals spend the summer in the wilds. When they’re not working, most roam free in a 3-mile radius around the main backcountry work center, then pack out for shorter stints in the wilderness, even overnighting at the firecamps.

Others, like the Trinity Alps team or those working in Glacier, are hauled to trailheads and typically complete their supply trips in a single day.

Need for Expansion

Despite the incredible utility of equines for fighting wildfires, and the rising need for them, they remain an understaffed and underused resource. A big part of the challenge is a lack of experienced and willing handlers.

“It’s really hard to find folks who want to manage public lands in the wilderness setting who also have the skillset to safely and productively manage horses and mules back there,” says Zoellner.

To begin overcoming this challenge, the California-based Pack Stock Center of Excellence supports backcountry fire programs via training and education. In some areas, “fire-use modules” are emerging, in which small, skilled stock crews are dispatched to where they’re needed most. For now, these programs are still limited in size and area covered.

Zoellner stresses that growing and supporting stock programs is crucial to protecting and maintaining wilderness areas.

“As the Forest Service starts to address this work, we’re going to have to build those resources.”

The post Equines Fighting Fires Help Save Lives appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

In this story from writer Stacey McKenna, she describes the life lessons she learns from Daisy the Wonder Mule.

In the book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell argues that it takes 10,000 hours of focused practice to master a skill. Most equestrians would likely challenge that idea; even the most adept among us still encounter horses that teach us something new.

From the first time I sat on a pony at about 2 years old, I was driven to become an expert, or as close as I could get.

At first, my goals were simple ones. I wanted to perfect my posting trot, pick up the correct lead, hold a steady pace. As I got older, my goals became more elaborate: I wanted to ride junior jumpers, compete at the Pennsylvania National Horse Show, and to be a grand prix show jumper.

I had an agenda for myself and often for my mounts. We had to meet certain milestones before we became too old, too scared, or too distracted.

This mentality stayed with me into adulthood as I pulled Thoroughbreds off the track in search of my next 4-foot jumper. When I traded the arena for the trail, I shifted my ambitions, but not the way I approached them.

In the spring of 2018, everything started coming together when I met Daisy, or as I sometimes call her, Daisy Donut the Wonder Mule. She’s a strawberry blonde molly mule—athletic, curious and as snuggly as they come. Within a year, she had changed everything about the way I approach my equestrian life.

Getting Out of the Saddle

Daisy arrived in early June, and I had big plans to start hitting the trails as soon as possible. She was well-trained and had far more backcountry experience than I, so I figured by the end of summer we would have put miles behind us. But there was a catch. I didn’t have a saddle that fit her.

Before getting Daisy, I knew I would need time to find the right tack. Fitting a mule can be tricky, and I was transitioning from a jumping saddle to something more suited to hours on the trails, but I hadn’t expected it to take as long as it did. I eventually ordered a semi-custom endurance saddle, but it wouldn’t arrive until September.

My plans derailed, Daisy and I had months to get to know one another. Mules and donkeys have a reputation for being stubborn, but many devotees will tell you that there’s something else going on. Long-eared equines have a strong sense of self-preservation and expect to be consulted on decisions that could affect their well-being or survival. Consequently, that first summer of earning trust without rushing paid off.

Abandoning the Timeline

Some days we did groundwork in a round pen, and occasionally I hopped on bareback. But Daisy and I passed the majority of our time just walking through the rabbit brush, matching our steps, and pausing occasionally for ear scratches or snatches of grass. When my golden-maned mule heard a potential predator (actually barn cats) rustling through the reeds, she froze. I stopped, too, standing a few feet in front of her until she agreed it was safe to proceed. She always did, though some days it took longer than others.

In the months that followed, it became apparent that I simply couldn’t hold my adventure goals to a strict timeline. Our slow path to friendship was paying off: The more I gave Daisy a say, the more she looked to me for direction.

Forced to postpone my agenda of getting out into the wilderness as quickly and consistently as possible, I embarked on what would ultimately be a much longer journey: Daisy and I were becoming partners on a different level than I had ever known, and the barn had become the one place where I could show up without a plan. This freed me up to meet Daisy where she was on any given day, whether that meant taking a stroll, practicing our fledgling rock-hopping skills, or galloping in an open pasture.

I don’t know when Daisy and I will make it into the backcountry on our own, or what that will even look like when we do. Relieved of the pressure of an external deadline, I’m making the most of our time together. And the more I do it, the more it feels like that’s the point.

This article on Daisy the Wonder Mule appeared in the August 2020 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post Your Horse Life: Daisy the Wonder Mule appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.