Living and working in a resort community can be a dream come true when jobs are plentiful. But what do you do when your line of work suddenly dries up? When it happened to 37-year-old Ketchum carpenter Mike Geile, he decided to stop worrying and spend the summer hiking in the wilderness.
For many years, the Sun Valley area had experienced a steady increase in housing construction, keeping tradesmen busy year-round building multi-million-dollar homes.
That came to a halt about two years ago when the housing and credit markets began to collapse. The Idaho Department of Labor reports that 20,000 construction jobs have been lost in the state since the peak of the housing boom, down from 56,000 in the summer of 2006 to 36,000 today. Contractors in the Wood River Valley say half of local homebuilders are out of work.
Geile was working at Kearns, McGinnis & Vanderburg builders in Ketchum, preparing to start construction on two upscale homes last fall when he got the bad news. He had been in the valley for four and a half years and was earning $27 an hour, enough to pay for an expensive car and entertain the possibility of buying a home some day.
"The clients pulled out at the last minute," Geile said. "That's when the layoffs began."
Kearns, McGinnis & Vanderburg employed 16 builders two years ago. The company employs four people today.
Geile had been expecting the worst. He was already taking classes toward a degree in construction management at College of Southern Idaho when he got laid off. With 20 years of experience in the trades, it seemed like the logical next step.
Now he is not so sure.
"I love what I do and it seems like a waste of 20 years' work not to continue, but I just don't think it's in the cards," he said.
Geile spent three months on unemployment in Ketchum, taking small jobs when he could find them. The camaraderie he once enjoyed while working on construction crews was harder to find.
"As the work became more scarce, people became more nervous. They kept to themselves. As far as getting a job, it seemed like it became more a matter of who you know than what you know."
When four job positions opened up to build the Sun Valley Resort gondola on Bald Mountain, Geile applied for one of them. The odds were not good.
"The company got 250 resumes," Geile said.
As winter set in, Geile became increasingly frustrated and angry about his circumstances. He defaulted on his car loan.
"The negative thinking was getting worse. I knew I would be happier in the backcountry than I would be in town."
As the economy worsened, Geile decided to pursue an old dream of backpacking cross-country through the wilderness.
He was well situated for his quest. After considering the Pacific Crest Trail to the west and the Continental Divide Trail to the east, he decided on Idaho's 900-mile Centennial Trail, which extends from Nevada to Canada, crossing some of the most rugged and beautiful country in the state. However, he decided to only roughly follow the trail, and to do side trips, some cross-country.
Geile counted up his savings and spent two months planning his trip, which he hoped would take him to Canada. He arranged for food shipments every eight days to post offices along the trail. He stopped paying rent, stored his things, and on June 2 set off from Fairfield with his German shorthair dog, Rufus, crossing Soldier Mountain and heading north toward the Sawtooth Mountains, covering eight to 10 miles a day.
It was an unusually late and wet spring. Rufus was almost swept away during a tricky river crossing. Many of the high-country lakes were still frozen. After a torrential downpour, Geile had to break into a government-owned cabin to avoid hypothermia. He later paid for the damages.
"We were in the Sawtooths before anyone had any business being there," Geile said.
He picked up supplies in the small town of Atlanta, and then again in Stanley. By July he began fishing for trout. Eventually, he encountered others on the trail—backpackers, RV campers at campgrounds and, ultimately, the locals.
After struggling through the peaks of the Sawtooths, he tried to stay along rivers so he could fish to augment his food supply.
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"I found ranches out there in the middle of nowhere connected by airstrips. Sometimes I would get invited in for breakfast. It's easy to be outgoing on the trail, to tell your story."
Geile spent the Fourth of July in Yellow Pine, population 40.
"I was a local in Yellow Pine in five minutes."
Geile was befriended by a man named Don Waller, who showed him tricks for surviving in the mountains, including how to clean a grouse.
"Don is a mountain man. He is a legend up there. He has no property, only a couple of horses. He hunts and lives off the land. He and his son collect morel mushrooms for extra bucks when they need it. He is a down-to-earth guy, but not one you'd want to get on the wrong side of."
After leaving Yellow Pine, Geile had to rely heavily on his GPS and National Geographic mapping software. He found himself in forests thick with bears and got lost twice.
"The maps said there was a happy-go-lucky trail through there, but many of the foot bridges had been removed and the trails just petered out."
Geile's voice grew hoarse from shouting to ward off bears, he said, one of which had to be discouraged by shots from his pistol.
"A couple rounds in the air and he was over the ridge and gone."
After traversing Rainbow Ridge and descending into the South Fork of the Salmon on Sheep Creek draw, Geile thought he had lost Rufus.
"I dropped down to my knees and was in tears at one point. I went back and found him hung up on a log. We pushed through two more miles of thick brush, camped and calmed down."
Geile forded the South Fork of the Salmon in chest-deep water and later crossed it again by catching a ride on a passing raft. He arrived at the Mackay Bar Ranch at the confluence of the Main Salmon River a seasoned trekker.
Geile spent a week mingling with rafters and others at Mackay Bar, jumping off bridges, swimming, fishing. He built a picnic table and an outhouse to stay busy, sometimes trading work for food and beer.
"I could spend a summer going ranch to ranch up on the Salmon River and pay my way with odd jobs. There's plenty of work to do up there and no one who wants to do it."
He eventually caught a jet boat ride with a ranch owner to the next trailhead to the north, at the gateway to the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness.
Geile and Rufus spent the next three weeks hiking through pristine mountains and river valleys. They watched a female moose splashing in a pond one day. Rufus chased and caught a chukar partridge one afternoon. It later wound up in his dog bowl. Geile fished and explored.
Three weeks into the River of No Return Wilderness, two miles from the Selway River, Geile was bringing in a 16-inch rainbow trout when he slipped on a wet rock and fell on his back.
"I'd had sprained ankles and a tweaked knee, but I knew this was more serious."
After two days of trying to manage with the pain, Geile found the nearest dirt road and started hitchhiking to safety. When he arrived at a clinic, he discovered that he had fractured his tail bone. His sojourn came to an end after 460 miles and nine weeks in the mountains.
He lost 40 pounds on his journey, and regained a measure of confidence that he had lost living in town.
"I was looking for new perspective out there and I believe I found it," said Geile, now nearly recovered from his injury. "I learned that you don't have to think inside the box to live your life. I also regained some self-esteem by emptying my head. Your mind gets cloudy when you are always worried. You lose touch with what is important."
Geile saved about $1,000 this summer by leaving town and living on the trail. Though he still faces many of the same challenges he left behind three months ago in Ketchum, he is less fearful about changing careers. He's researching job opportunities and education requirements for a career in the outdoors, perhaps as a backcountry guide.
"I am going for my wilderness first responder training, which is the first step," he said. "I may also become an emergency medical technician."
Meanwhile, Geile said, he will follow up on some possible construction job leads he heard about while on the trail, in McCall and Boise. He is still coming down from an adventure that may have changed his life.
"I was "Hikin' Mike" for two and a half months. Now I'm just Mike again."
But while the warm weather lasts, Geile is still spending as much time as possible in the mountains, most recently in the Chamberlain Basin in the White Cloud Mountains near Stanley and at Kane Lake east of Sun Valley.
"I still have a month's worth of supplies," he said.
After 20 years working as a carpenter, and a 460-mile trek in the mountains, Mike Geile is considering a change of careers.
Photo by Tony Evans
