Only days after moving out of their first-year dorm at the University of Idaho, Morgan McCully was packing up again to head to Scenic Stanley, ID, just for the summer. Little did they know then that their time working at the Sawtooth National Recreation Area would be more than just a seasonal job.
McCully, 19, is pursuing a double major in history and anthropology at UI and worked as a historical specialist for the Sawtooth Interpretive and Historical Association (SIHA).
SIHA is a non-profit that works to preserve the heritage of the Sawtooth region, primarily through educating the public. Working closely with the National Forest Service, McCully and their coworkers worked for the Stanley Museum and the Redfish Visitor Center all summer.
”There were two historic specialists… and three naturalists,” McCully explained. While they were in the museum, walking through the displays and elaborating on history, “[the naturalists] worked on boats and at trailheads educating the public” on the natural world around their visitors.
According to the National Forest Service, the Sawtooth National Recreation Area (SNRA) where McCully worked boasts 756,000 square acres. The SIHA website explains that Congress established the SNRA in 1972, and it has since been meticulously cared for as one of Idaho’s greatest natural areas.
”[My job] is just educating people on how to best exist within a space designed to be protected, preserved, and used for generations to come,” they said.
McCully has lived their entire life in Idaho’s great landscapes. Growing up in Troy and part of their family’s ranch work for countless years, McCully has grown a deep love of the outdoors. Being inside for too long makes them antsy, they said.
Being able to do the two things they loved—talking about history and being outside nearly 24/7–made this position a perfect fit for them.
”Who doesn’t love being in the woods?” they said. “I think one of the requirements for the job was that you had to like being outdoors.”
They noted that on the job application, SIHA explained that this job allowed workers plenty of space to roam. McCully appreciated that, noting how this job was more than just going to work but also living in the forests they were educating on. Having that space to explore was incredibly important to McCully and their coworkers, who all shared similar life stages of an early career.
McCully has a knack for educating people about history, saying, “To be able to make history more digestible is really important. It can be really complicated and hard for people to understand—and it can be hard for me to understand, too—but being someone who is getting a degree in this field, I can help break down the sentences so they’re easier to read, in a sense.”
McCully also participated in public outreach through a research presentation. They researched and presented an hour-long talk on the history of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the SNRA.
The CCC was formed in 1933 from Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal, which brought young men into the workforce to do conservation work with the National Forest Service. They built roads, trails, powerlines, and campgrounds like those used today in areas like the SNRA.
”We’re in such a special place that you need to know how to respect it and be a good steward of the land,” they said. McCully found their work to be important, both as a field in general and specifically for the region they were teaching about.
McCully made a point to shout out the U of I library archives when discussing what they researched.
“The library has a fantastic digital collection on the CCC in Idaho that contains pictures, documents, and oral history interviews, and I think everyone should check it out,” they said.
”Because we’re an educational non-profit, you have to know what you’re talking about,” McCully said when delving into their slight imposter syndrome being placed in the educator position. “There’s so much going into making sure you’re educating the public correctly.”
Sightseeing at Lily Lake Falls | Courtesy of Morgan McCully 
Going into their degree in 2023, McCully initially favored their history major over their anthropology major. They wanted to be museum curators, making their whole job about educating others on history.
However, over the last year, McCully started appreciating their anthropological studies much more. With professors like Mark Warner encouraging them, they found a new passion for archaeological work through their field school in Fall 2023. By working with Idaho Public Archaeology and U of I’s Archaeology Program to dig up artifacts near Moscow High School, McCully’s hands-on experiences started to turn the tide on their passions.
By the time they got to work with SIHA this summer, they found that they much preferred the in-the-dirt work to museum life. To them, though, this realization of not enjoying a particular line of work was just as beneficial as discovering a new passion.
” Getting to explore who I am as a person while doing a job that I thought I would really enjoy… That’s just a big thing,” they said. “I didn’t really enjoy [museum work] that much… I just learned it’s not really my thing to sit at a desk all day.”
They add, “There’s something to be said about hands-on work… I missed it. I like being able to flex those anthropology muscles.”
McCully emphasized the personal journey that the position allowed and encouraged. Part of their self-discovery was a pivot in career goals. Though this field wasn’t for them, McCully pointed out that it was still important and could have been perfect for somebody else.
Near the tail end of their time, there was a complication: the forest fire near Redfish Lake. The fire started Thursday, July 11, only 8 miles south of Stanley while McCully was there. Though McCully was far enough from the fires not to necessitate immediate evacuation, they report Stanley being desolate for several days.
”It was scary, and it made a lot of things uncertain,” they said. “Time is already so limited. We all knew we had an end date, but then suddenly, it felt like that end date could be sooner than you expected.”
McCully and their coworkers were put on a stage two evacuation notice, which meant all of their belongings had to be packed and prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.
Being familiar with the West’s almost annual forest fires during the summer, McCully was less afraid of their safety than some of their bunkmates. They don’t remember seeing a summer without smoke in the air. It was a normal part of their primarily outdoor job to them.
“I fully trusted the fire crews. Those professionals are doing what they’re trained to do, and they did an amazing job,” McCully said.
Nonetheless, McCully had to reckon with what was important to them in the uncertainty, both in a physical sense—“What would I be okay burning up in a fire?” they joked—and in a personal sense. Knowing they may have less time with the people they had grown to appreciate inspired fear in them every day they came back from work—“What if this is the last time I see these people again?” they would ask themself.
Though they were familiar with living in Idaho’s landscapes, McCully gained a deeper appreciation and knowledge about the surrounding wildlife from their coworkers. They said that being around people who study nature for a living rubbed off on them and gave them a more in-tune respect for Idaho wildlife through the in-depth understanding they gained.
The best part about seasonal work that McCully gathered was that “every year is different.” To them, the most important thing they gained during this summer was building connections with the amazing people around them.
They lived with nine other people in a bunkhouse, their housing provided by the National Forest Service. Given the short time with their bunkmates, McCully said that there was “no room to be someone else.”
They really valued what the people they spent their daily lives with taught them about themselves. These people made their summer as special as it was.
When asked about the most valuable takeaway, McCully said, “I think I learned most about the importance of putting all of you into something… How many times have I had the opportunity to be in a beautiful place with an amazing job doing the best that I could possibly do?”
Given the limited nature of seasonal work, McCully’s nugget of wisdom was that “There is no bigger regret than knowing you could have done more and understanding that you didn’t.”
Living intentionally was McCully’s life lesson from this summer. With how little time they had in Stanley, McCully understood the rewards of living in the moment and getting as much from the present as possible. As a worker, a student, and a person, the value of seasonal work comes from their ability to throw themself into it entirely.
”You can’t swim with your hair dry,” they joked, a poignant analogy for the summer experience.
Ultimately, McCully said they would love to return to seasonal work. It’s a great opportunity for students and recent graduates to learn who they are and what they like doing with less commitment, they said.
”It’s a great way to use skills that you are being trained for to give them practical application while also learning about yourself,” they said. “There’s something to be said about going out, trying something new for a couple of months, and watching yourself become a changed person… It’s a special thing, and I’m so grateful I got to do it.”