This summer, I’ve spent most of my time doing something that sounds easy enough…talking to people on trails. As an intern working with Friends of Harriman State Park and the Henry’s Fork Foundation, my role has been to collect trail use data: how visitors utilize the park, what they appreciate about it, and how it can be improved.
In theory, it couldn’t be simpler, just a quick 15-minute survey. In practice? Not so much.
We set up camp, including a folding table and a couple of chairs, in various spots around the park. Ranchview typically yields the best results, with the highest number of completed surveys. But more often than not, and less than ideal, you would find us stationed outside the pit toilets. It was a smelly situation and left me wondering why visitors seemed to rush by us more than usual. One morning at Osborne Bridge, it was so cold that Dara and I wrapped ourselves in sleeping bags and sipped coffee, trying to stay alert and enthusiastic for anyone who might partake in our survey. Still, the most challenging part isn’t the weather or the smell. It’s the rejection. I’ve been ignored, brushed off, and hit with snarky comments. Some people treat me like I’m trying to scam them out of money. Others act like I’m invisible. It can wear on you, especially when you’re out there for hours just trying to support a park they love enough to visit.
Now and then, someone stops. It could be for the free sticker, or out of curiosity, or kindness. Whatever the reason, those conversations make it worth it. Because when people do engage, we get to hear incredible stories about why they love Harriman, how long they’ve been coming here, and what the park means to them.
The more time I spend conversing with or simply observing users, the more certain I am that this work matters. First-time users are in awe of Harriman, and regulars are passionate about the place, returning year after year to stay for weeks or months during the summer. Many visited as children with their parents, and now they are sharing it with their children or grandchildren for the first time. That love is what makes Harriman uniquely special and will keep it thriving.
Coming home to Island Park the summer after my first year of college has been bittersweet. I’m no longer the carefree high school kid running around these trails; I’m now someone dedicated to improving and protecting them. This place isn’t just where I grew up. It’s why I’m at Washington and Lee University in the first place.
My name is Ella Paini, and I’m here because of the A. Paul Knight program. My connection to the program goes back decades; my father and godfather were Knight interns together in 1993. That summer changed their lives. They never left the area and went on to start a fly fishing business on Henry’s Fork that they still run today. Without Al Knight’s vision and generosity, I wouldn’t be at W&L. In all honesty, I may not even be here.
