“NINETY-EIGHT PERCENT OF OUR TOWN’S ECONOMY IS BASED ON FOREST RECREATION.”
Cabin builder Adam Swain on how his livelihood is tied to Alaska’s Chugach National Forest
After Hurricane Helene, a recovery fund will help revive the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests
How programs that create job pipelines for Indigenous youth bridge community and conservation needs
Foresters growing twice as many trees as loggers harvest. Ranchers grazing their cattle. Scientists studying life’s wonders. Hunters and fisherman catching to conserve. Hikers embarking on adventures while supporting small towns. National Forests and Grasslands are more than just scenic places. They’re also major economic drivers. The recreation and industry they provide contributes $44.3 billion to the nation’s economy every year. And
they employ more than 200,000 workers, the equivalent of the entire population of Tallahassee, Florida.
To keep these natural lifelines intact requires evergrowing support. In this issue of Light & Seed® , we look at the communities that rely on National Forests and Grasslands for their livelihoods—and work hard to keep them thriving.
Want to dig deeper into the content? Visit nationalforests.org/connections to listen, watch, and read more about the articles in this issue.
Explore a unique collaboration between conservation nonprofits and mining companies, led by the National Forest Foundation, that is bringing back salmon-spawning habitat in Alaska’s Chugach National Forest. Its gateway community of Cooper Landing is economically dependent on the Chugach, as are cabin-builders Adam & Shayla Swain, featured in “People of Public Lands” on page 10.
Follow the adventures of Henry and Lakeisha Woodard, featured in “People of Public Lands” on page 12, as they hunt, fish, and grow most of what sustains their family of six. From their home near Holly Springs National Forest in northern Mississippi, the Woodards capture highlights from their excursions on the popular Youtube channel @HaloHunting.
Learn more about the Southern National Forest Recovery Fund, which will support immediate community needs in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. Consider donating to help the area’s National Forests and the communities that rely on them, including residents like Mary Leavines, who pens the essay on page 14.
Uncover the challenges and opportunities experienced by forestdependent communities, discussed in “The Last Word” on page 32, in Headwaters Economics’ 2024 report “Future-Proofing the Outdoor Recreation Economy.”
Check out the Forest Service’s 2019 Economic Contributions Dashboard which helped inform the story on page 24 to learn more about the various ways National Forests and Grasslands support local economies.
Read about how the Wood for Life program fights climate change while helping Indigenous families. The initiative is one of many efforts aimed at encouraging Native youth to participate in forestry and conservation work, which writer Mark Armao explores in the story on page 18.
Dive into the personalities and research behind “Heard in the Woods” on page 30. Listen to the episode “How Replanting Forests Can Improve Ecological Benefits and Empower Landowners” by the podcast Food, Farms and Forests, which delves into how research, restoration, and economic opportunity intersect in Arkansas’s hardwood forests.
Every spring, when rhododendrons bloom across the Southeast, northbound Appalachian Trail (AT) thru-hikers start appearing in North Carolina’s Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests. For the small gateway towns that border these forests, these hikers provide the bulk of their yearly income.
After Hurricane Helene made landfall last fall, “the impact on our scrappy, hand-to-mouth economies were felt by all,” writes Mary Leavines in her essay about having to adapt to a new climate reality “when hurricanes can appear, deep in the mountains, hundreds of miles from the coast.”
Rehabilitation of the AT is well underway, and in the meantime, plenty of other trails across the forests are coming back online in time for the height of the hiking season. For Leavines and her neighbors, the return of visitors—both thru- and day-hikers— will mean the return of their lifelines.
Read the full story on page 14.
Photo by Clay McCreary
On a clear fall day in 2022, a group of young Native foresters removed smalldiameter trees—a powerful source of wildfire fuel—in northern Arizona’s Coconino National Forest. That timber would soon be processed into firewood and brought to their nearby Navajo and Hopi communities to provide warmth during the winter.
The foresters are part of Wood for Life, a program that employs Indigenous people in forest-thinning and -restoration projects that, in turn, produce firewood for their own tribes. A collaboration between the NFF and Ancestral Lands Conservation Corps, the initiative is part of a greater push in recent years to support Native youth in entering forestry and conservation fields.
In “Grounded in Generations,” writer Mark Armao examines the program’s efficacy alongside other efforts, including the Native American Research Assistantship, a program that encourages Indigenous students to participate in research projects alongside U.S. Forest Service scientists.
Read the full story on page 18.
In western North Carolina, the economies of small towns and big cities alike are inextricably tied to the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests.
The forests’ impact is especially visible in Old Fort, a former textile town near Asheville. After decades of decline, the U.S. Forest Service started building mountain-biking trails near Old Fort in 2022. Soon, the town was attracting 250 visitors a day, more year-round residents, and a flurry of new businesses.
Hurricane Helene swept away much of the town’s progress. The storm also devastated huge swaths of the National Forests.
“The economic fallout from this storm can’t be overstated,” writes Graham Averill in “Road to Recovery,” which chronicles the impact of the storm and the importance of immediate funding, a need that’s being filled through the NFF’s Southern National Forest Recovery Fund.
Read the full story on page 24.
Photo by Derek DiLuzio
How Adam and Shayla Swain have built a life around Alaska’s Chugach National Forest.
INTERVIEW BY ERIN VIVID RILEY
Adam and Shayla Swain met in 2009 while working in Alaska’s Chugach National Forest. Over the next decade, they settled in the gateway town of Cooper Landing, started a family, and launched a construction company called Backcountry Builders. Now, they spend their days camping with their three kids in some of the Chugach’s most remote corners while building cabins for the National Forest Foundation.
They’re among just 200 year-round residents of Cooper Landing, located 100 miles south of Anchorage. The town swells to some 3,000 people every summer when visitors from all over the world come to fish Kenai River’s famed salmon run, hike the forest’s 60 trails, and enjoy the area’s epic scenery.
We spoke to Adam and Shayla about how the Chugach economically impacts their small community.
What brought you to Alaska?
Adam Swain: A friend was living in Cooper Landing and suggested I get a seasonal job to check it out. So I started working in trail construction for the Chugach National Forest in 2009, and that first month I met Shayla.
Shayla Swain: I was working in the wildland firefighting crew at the time. Then we were recruited to play in a community softball tournament and that’s how things started. We were working an eight-on, six-off schedule, so during those six days, we’d go explore together.
What led to the launch of Backcountry Builders?
AS: After three years with the Forest Service, I started doing general contractor work and commercial building jobs. It’s a really small state, and if you excel, your name gets around. I began running projects all over and was barely home. When Shayla got pregnant with our third, we knew it was time to start something of our own.
How do you partner with the National Forest Foundation?
SS: Our first project as Backcountry Builders was actually two cabin remodels with the NFF. It was a great experience.
AS: This summer, we’ll be working at a remote cabin near Meridian Lake. We’ll helicopter all the building materials to the site and our family and employees will hike in. It’ll be camp life, with Shayla running business operations remotely and the kids running amok.
How does the community of Cooper Landing depend on the Chugach National Forest?
SS: Ninety-eight percent of our town’s economy is based on recreation that comes in and out of the Chugach, between hiking, fishing, rafting, kayaking, hunting, snow machining, and skiing. We have maybe 200 residents yearround, but in the summer, that grows to at least 3,000 from both visitors and every businesses bringing in their employees for guiding, hotels, and restaurants.
How has the area’s growing tourism impacted your business?
AS: Because of short-term rentals, the lack of land available, and the fact that we’re close enough to Anchorage that the majority of houses down here are second homes, it’s very difficult to afford something here. For us, it makes it challenging to find long-term employees. All the younger folks that live here are seasonal for the most part. Many of them would be here year-round if it was possible.
“We have a population of around 200 year-round, but in the summer, the town hosts some 3,000 people on any given day.”
What’s your favorite part of the Chugach National Forest?
SS: We spend a lot of time in Resurrection Pass. Every spring we try to stay in a lakeside cabin along the trail. I helped build Trout Lake Cabin when I worked for the Forest Service, so it feels super special to us.
Follow Backcountry Builders on Instagram at @backcountrybuildersak.
Book a stay at one of Adam and Shayla’s recent builds, the Porcupine Campground Cabin, located on the shores of Turnagain Arm. From there, spot beluga whales on a hike to Gull Rock, fly-fish Resurrection Creek, and explore the historic town of Hope.
For Henry and Lakeisha Woodard, hunting is as much about subsistence as it is a vital way of life.
INTERVIEW BY ERIN VIVID RILEY
From their home near the Holly Springs National Forest in northern Mississippi, Henry and Lakeisha
Woodard hunt and fish most of the food that sustains their family of six.
What began as a way to capture their favorite moments on social media soon turned into a lucrative opportunity when their follower-count skyrocketed and attracted sponsorship deals.
The Woodards, and their brand Halo Hunting, now have nearly 22,000 followers on both Instagram and Youtube. They hope that one day they’ll be able to turn Halo Hunting into a full-time job. For now, the Woodards are focusing on launching an outdoor-education nonprofit while Lakeisha works as a compliance consultant and Henry as a locomotive electrician and ordained minister.
We spoke to Henry and Lakeisha about how, in their words, “hunting is more than just a hobby or a skill set, it’s a way of life.”
What was your relationship to the outdoors growing up?
Henry Woodard: I remember going fishing with my mom when I was young, which piqued my interest in the outdoors. My dad bought me a BB gun and on the days I joined him at the soybean farm where he worked, I’d roam the countryside and practice shooting. When I turned 18, I started deer hunting. I didn’t have a mentor, so I’d just watch hunting VHS tapes.
Lakeisha Woodard: I grew up in Memphis, Tennessee. It wasn’t until I started going turkey hunting with Henry that it captured my interest, and so from there, I quickly developed my own love for the outdoors.
How did you start monetizing your passion for hunting?
HW: I thought that it would be great to capture the memories of our hunts on social media and we soon started seeing people take notice. Then we saw the Outdoor Channel was going to do a competition for unique couples that hunt. We decided to submit a video and ended up being picked. Out of the three couples, Lakeisha shot the biggest buck. Things just kind of started from there.
What does a typical day look like for you?
LW: It’s pretty much like any other family. We get the kids ready for school and we have our regular nine-to-five jobs while we manage social media. The kids will feed the
“It’s a constant cycle of planning and working, and then we get to enjoy it all together.”
chickens and gather up the eggs every day, and help in the garden, where we grow all kinds of vegetables. Whether it’s the weekend or midweek, we take every opportunity to hunt, which the kids have started to do, too. We hunt the Holly Springs National Forest for wild turkeys and private property bordering the forest for deer.
How do you plan your meals around your hunts?
LW: Our freezer pretty much stays stocked throughout the year, from venison to wild hog. We’re always strategizing, whether that’s putting in food plots, hanging tree stands, or scouting new hunting areas, or setting up trail cameras. It’s a constant cycle of planning and working, and then we get to enjoy it all together.
Any upcoming plans for Halo Hunting?
LW: We are starting a nonprofit called the Halo Bridge Outreach Foundation, which will introduce inner-city kids to the hunting lifestyle. We’re going to focus on outdoor education, firearms safety training, and youth empowerment. We’ve seen how hunting has given our kids greater confidence and a stronger sense of purpose, and want to give that to others.
Follow the Woodards at halohunting.com and on Instagram and Youtube @halohunting.
Hunt for white-tailed deer, quail, and waterfowl across Mississippi’s six National Forests.
When Hurricane Helene bore down on my thru-hiker hostel near the Nantahala National Forest, I drew on a lifetime of waiting out storms in Louisiana—only to discover a new reality.
BY MARY LEAVINES
What is that?” a hiker asked me, his voice a mix of confusion and wonder. I followed his gaze to a rhododendron tree in the backyard of my property near Franklin, North Carolina. It was November and in bloom. An impossibility, but there they were: bright pink, gossamer-edged clusters of flowers, tight little buds brimming with potential.
In Louisiana, my original home, there is a flower that blooms after hurricanes: hurricane lilies. They secretly mature underneath the ground, waiting for a deluge of water to spring up, often overnight. A stubborn display of beauty among ruin.
It hasn’t rained here since Hurricane Helene, though, and rhododendrons only bloom in spring.
It took a moment for me to explain what I was seeing. “It’s a rhododendron,” I said to the hiker as I stared, in disbelief.
“Does it normally bloom this time of year?” he asked. An older section hiker of the Appalachian Trail, the man had an open expression framed by a loose, short tumble of gray hair. He’d driven from Texas to North Carolina four days ago to stay in my hostel, where he left his truck before we shuttled him to the beginning of his section hike. He was now heading home after a few days on the trail.
“No,” I said, because I knew that for certain. “No, they don’t.”
As the hiker loaded gear into his truck, I studied the tree: its elegant, drooping leaves; the gnarled, reddish bark. It was an evergreen, so those things weren’t out of place. But the blooms didn’t belong, not now at least.
My husband and I had re-opened the hostel after its previous owner passed away. Our journey to this way of life, like our relationship, was a whirlwind: a trailhead meetcute, followed by months of no contact as I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail and he hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.
We found each other again when we both happened to move to Asheville. Six months into dating, we saw the property listing, signed a deed, and moved over an hour west, mere minutes from the trail that had brought us together.
During our first season, the basement that housed our bunk beds was filled with SOBOs: southbound thru-hikers of the Appalachian Trail. It was also filled with celebration, as hikers marked the start of the last hundred of a 2,200mile journey.
But in September 2024, at the start of the SOBO season, Hurricane Helene ripped through the mountains, shredding that beloved ribbon of dirt and flooding storied trail towns like Hot Springs, Erwin, and Damascus beyond recognition. Many of the hostels north of us flooded and were unable to take in hikers, even if they were still coming.
A bridge over the Nolichucky River, where the trail crossed, had been torn in two. The other miles that wound through
“Rumors of thru-hikers passing through other regions spread between hostels along the trail, a trickling of financial lifeblood.”
northern North Carolina, eastern Tennessee, and southern Virginia were forever changed: obliterated by landslides and made impassable by tangled webs of fallen trees.
In Helene’s wake, we’d only seen three SOBOs of our usual 100-plus. They hunkered down in our trail town as the storm passed over. The others? Rumors of their passage through other regions spread between hostels along the trail, a trickling of financial lifeblood.
Some thru-hikers were hacking their way south through the Smokies; others were still in Virginia and planning to hitch rides around the trail closures. But many more had simply given up, a scant few hundred miles from the trail’s terminus, and gone home.
The impact on our scrappy, hiker economy were felt by all: the hostel owners and shuttle drivers, but also the local restaurants and outfitters of our small trail towns. While the lion’s share of our yearly income comes from the northbound crowd, the SOBOs help us stretch through the off-season in between.
Our trail town was largely unscathed from Helene’s wrath, but communities to the north and east of us were not so lucky, and the damage was unlike anything I had seen before.
Even the 2016 thousand-year flood in my hometown couldn’t compare. In Louisiana, the creeks rise, the bayous back up, and the water flows through homes, unearthing graves and lingering for days before slowly receding, as if into a backed-up drain. Once the water abated, it left a faint, muddy impression stamped on tree trunks, two feet above our heads.
But here—where more than two feet of rain fell on the Appalachians’ highest point, Mount Mitchell, then roared with terminal velocity into nearby mountain towns—the
water left as quickly as it arrived. Pigeon River overflowed and howled through the community, a wave clearing everything in its path.
A week after Helene, as we drove to the nearby town of Canton to bring a friend some supplies, I saw disemboweled homes now leaning on ruined foundations, strung with caution tape. The same impression of water I saw in Louisiana marked the few trees and telephone poles and buildings left standing— but it wasn’t all that remained.
Above our heads, in the days immediately following the hurricane, first responders found bodies strewn in a vast web of unearthed roots. They found homes and shipping containers above mudslides and loose boulders; structures that had been lifted and borne upon the current, tossed like playing dice.
After the hurricane, a wave of speculation arrived. When will the Appalachian Trail reopen?
Well-meaning hikers flocked to social media with their questions: were sections open, were the roads clear, were there services available? The locals clapped back: The trail is the last thing on our radar right now. Stay home.
Hostels, shuttle drivers, and other trail providers depend on northbound hikers each spring to provide the majority of their yearly income. We will eventually rebuild our homes, the trail, and the community surrounding it. But when will the hikers—and our livelihoods—return? And what is next for us, in this strange new reality, when
“We will eventually rebuild our homes, the trail, and the community surrounding it. But when will the hikers—and our livelihoods—return?”
hurricanes can appear, deep in the mountains, hundreds of miles from the coast?
Once the hiker waved goodbye and rumbled down the driveway, I walked outside again to the rhododendron. I reached out and touched the tips of my fingers to its thin petals and fought a sudden urge to twist the buds away from the branches. Maybe if I prune the flowers, it’ll bloom again, I thought, trying to reason with myself. In spring, when it should.
But I let them be. We would both have to face our new, uncertain world.
Visit the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests, where U.S. Forest Service workers have been hard at work clearing and opening trails, but check fs.usda.gov for the latest updates before you go. To help with the forests’ recovery, check out the Southern National Forest Recovery Fund at nationalforests.org/southernforestsrecovery.
Mary Leavines is a writer, photographer, and longdistance hiker working on her first memoir. You can find her essays, trail journals, and more at maryleavines.com.
How programs aimed at encouraging Indigenous youth to join conservation fields have adapted to the needs of both advocates and the communities they serve
BY MARK ARMAO
Tanikwah Lang picked her way through wilting wildflowers, holding a mist net high above the tallgrass to avoid getting it tangled. It was June 2023 and her first day in the field conducting research at Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie, on the lands of Anishinaabe, Miami, and other Indigenous peoples, just outside Chicago.
Bison milled about the prairie, the result of a reintroduction effort that started a decade ago, but Lang was in search of a smaller species. She was netting and tagging yellow-bellied Eastern meadowlarks to determine how the grassland songbirds respond to different prairie-restoration efforts, such as prescribed burning.
Working alongside a PhD student, she gently untangled the birds from the nets before fitting them with what Lang describes as “little GPS backpacks” that would collect data on the birds’ movement and behavior in areas where bison grazed. Lang, who is a member of the Klamath Tribes, had no sooner finished
her junior year of college than she drove from Oregon to Illinois to take part in the Native American Research Assistantship (NARA) program.
The initiative, a collaboration between the Forest Service and The Wildlife Society (TWS), has been part of a greater push in recent years to create pipelines for Native youth to enter conservation fields. The NARA program was initially envisioned as a way to attract applicants from Indigenous communities and to fill field-technician roles within the agency. Other efforts have focused more on the conservation corps model, placing participants in crewbased and individual-placement work in trail construction, habitat restoration, and invasive species removal.
Lang had experience working with her own tribe to restore aquatic resources, and jumped at the opportunity to conduct research around an animal as revered as bison.
“In the application, I got to specify which projects I was most interested in,” she said. “And, obviously, anytime you hear bison, you think, ‘Oh, that’s awesome.’”
She was paired with Susannah Lerman, a Forest Service research ecologist who has mentored multiple researchers as part of NARA. Established in 2014, the program enables undergraduate and graduate students to gain experience in natural resource- and conservationrelated fields by assisting in research projects alongside Forest Service scientists.
“Without this internship, I would definitely not be where I am today, obtaining my master’s degree and doing really important work that is near and dear to my heart.”
—Tanikwah
Lang a former participant of the NARA program
Since its inception, the program has trained 33 students, two of whom participated twice. Participants have engaged in projects ranging from evaluating the impacts of climate change on Hawaiian stream ecology to detecting the pregnancy status of wolverines and Canada lynx.
“It’s a good space for Native students to get their first exposure to the Forest Service because they’re partnered on a project that a tribe has identified, or they’re working with a species that may be culturally significant,” said Serra Hoagland (Laguna Pueblo), a wildlife biologist with Forest Service who has mentored several NARA participants.
Lang’s trajectory since the prairie study led her to Rome, Italy, when she was invited to the 2023 UN Global Indigenous Youth Forum. She is currently at the University of Wisconsin pursuing a graduate degree in agroecology, a sustainable farming practice that combines ecological and social principles to manage food systems, with a focus on Indigenous food sovereignty. Her mentor, Lerman, encouraged her to apply for both opportunities, she said.
“Without this internship, I would definitely not be where I am today, obtaining my master’s degree and doing really important work that is near and dear to my heart,” Lang said.
According to an informal review of the academic and professional pursuits to date of former participants, 14 of NARA’s 33 alumni are pursuing work or study in wildlife or conservation-related fields. At least 11 of those in a related field currently work for a tribe, federal agency, nonprofit, or private company. Several are pursuing
“NARA has evolved into this opportunity to increase awareness of traditional ecological knowledge in wildlife and forest management.”
—Cameron Kovach, chief program officer at The Wildlife Society
graduate degrees, three of which are focused on wildlife biology or ecology.
Wildlife biologist Nekai Eversole, who took part in NARA in 2017, was recently tapped to lead the climate change program for the Navajo Nation Department of Fish and Wildlife. Following his internship in 2023, Ryan Matilton began working with the Yurok Tribe to manage habitat for threatened and endangered species, such as the California condor.
Offering paid, technical internships in a highly competitive field sets NARA apart from other opportunities aimed at Indigenous youth, a number of which are focused more on skills training under the conservation corps model.
These initiatives are less costly and aren’t as tied to shifting federal funding. For one, Ancestral Lands Conservation Corps, a program from the organization Conservation Legacy, has supported more than 2,500 participants since its inception in 2008.
Rather than engaging youth through research assistantships, the program focuses on providing handson training through service projects.
In recent years, its focus on long-term career development has expanded with the addition of training and certification schemes. More than 160 participants have taken part in the organization’s individual-placement program since its start in 2020, participating in internships with partnering tribes and agencies.
Its success, according to Ancestral Lands’ Executive Director Chas Robles, comes down to working within
communities. “Other programs that have recruited Native young folks have had a lot of success, but there were barriers to participation, primarily the distance that folks had to travel,” said Robles. The program now has five offices on or near Tribal lands across New Mexico and Arizona.
Just as important to creating opportunities for Native people in conservation-related professions is integrating more Indigenous knowledge into climate change adaptation and land-management practices.
“The NARA program showcases the mutual benefit in sharing natural resource management and conservation knowledge between federal agencies, such as the Forest Service and Native American communities,” said Patrice Klein, a fish and wildlife health veterinarian in the Forest Service who oversees the NARA Program.
“It’s evolved into this opportunity to increase awareness of traditional ecological knowledge in wildlife and forest management,” said Cameron Kovach, chief program officer at The Wildlife Society.
Donate to the Wood for Life program, a collaboration between the NFF, Ancestral Lands Conservation Corps, and the Forest Service, at nationalforests. org/wood-for-life. The initiative provides sustainable sources of firewood to local communities and bolsters forest-restoration efforts.
Mark Armao (Diné/ Navajo) is a writer and fact-checker who hails from the high desert in northern Arizona and resides in California. His work frequently explores environmental issues on Native lands.
In Western North Carolina, the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests are huge economic drivers for their surrounding communities. After Hurricane Helene, a recovery fund seeks to restore the lifeline.
BY GRAHAM AVERILL
Lisa Jennings knew a trail was supposed to be there, but the area in front of her was unrecognizable. As the recreation and trails manager for the Grandfather District of Pisgah National Forest, she had helped build the path months earlier. But the singletrack had disappeared, swept away in a mudslide that scored the mountain down to bedrock.
It’s a scene that Jennings and her crew of Forest Service staff and volunteers had seen day in, day out for the three months they hiked through the forest, assessing the outcome of Hurricane Helene.
“We have a lot of damage,” Jennings said. “Across the Grandfather Ranger District, every single trail was impacted. A quarter of the trails were completely wiped out.”
On September 27, 2024, Hurricane Helene ripped through the mountains of Western North Carolina, dropping up to 30 inches of rain and bringing wind gusts of 100-plus miles-per-hour. The French Broad River and many of its tributaries overflowed, its storm surge leveling homes and buildings in riverside communities like Old Fort and Marshall. Higher elevations saw mud and rock slides that wiped out roads.
Helene disrupted 20 percent of the one million acres that make up the Nantahala and Pisgah National Forests. Roughly 800 miles of trail and
900 miles of Forest Service-managed roads, as well as key infrastructure like bridges and campgrounds, were impacted. The long-term damage to the ecosystem is multi-tiered, from an increased probability of forest fires to loss of wildlife habitat, but the economic fallout from this storm can’t be overstated.
The Pisgah and Nantahala drive the economies of many communities throughout Western North Carolina. Recent research from Eastern Kentucky University shows that they attract almost five million visitors each year, more than the Grand Canyon or Yosemite. Recreation in the two National Forests generate $115 million in annual spending, money that goes directly to gateway communities and helps support 1,000 full-time jobs.
“Look at a map, and you see that these communities are cradled by National Forests,” said Rachel Blackburn,
the Southern Appalachians Program Coordinator at the National Forest Foundation (NFF). “That proximity has created communities that are connected economically with the forest.”
That connection is especially apparent in Old Fort, a former textile town 20 miles east of Asheville. There were once five manufacturers operating in Old Fort that employed thousands, but by the mid ‘80s, the bottom had fallen out of the industry, and most of those plants were left vacant. Old Fort shrank to a population of under 1,000 and most businesses were boarded up.
“Growing up here, there wasn’t much going on,” said Molly Poore, an Old Fort native who left the area during college and moved back after the pandemic. “I spent my childhood essentially watching the economy die, and everyone young move away.”
“Public funds don’t come as quickly, and often require additional administrative hurdles. Private sources will be the difference in getting the crucial recovery done faster.”
—Rachel Blackburn, NFF’s Southern Appalachians Program Coordinator
But then the community and Forest Service started building mountain-bike trails on the Grandfather Ranger District, which sits on the edge of downtown Old Fort. The Gateway Trails were the first to open in 2022, offering six miles of flow for all levels, and roughly 20 miles were added last fall before Helene hit.
Last summer, one of the district’s most popular hiking trails, a loop path that leads to spectacular Catawba Falls, reopened after a two-year project supported by the NFF. The painstaking work added retaining walls, boardwalks, staircases, and overlooks to improve visitor safety and offer better access to the 205-foot cascading falls.
Altogether, these trails were attracting 250 users a day to the area, according to the Forest Service. In just a few years, downtown Old Fort was reborn into a trail town, welcoming 13 new businesses ranging from a bike shop and yoga studio to a fishing-guide service and pottery store.
Molly Poore and her husband Jeremy moved back to Old Fort specifically to be a part of this new economic boon. “The fact that the town and area was starting to turn towards the forest was really exciting,” Molly said. “It’s delightful to be in town and see people riding bikes around now.”
In 2022, the couple opened Mountain Top Shuttles, a service that takes bikers to the top of some of the longest downhill trails on the East Coast, all of which are located on the outskirts of Old Fort. “The September before Helene, we were on track to do seven times more business
in 2024 than in 2023,” Jeremy said. “We were about to expand with a second van and more staff.”
And then Helene hit, sweeping away much of the progress that had been made by the community. Hillman Beer Company, which sits on Mill Creek in the heart of downtown, had flood waters three feet deep inside its building.
Forest Service staff and volunteers have been working to rehabilitate the infrastructure within the forest, but some of the key trail systems, like Gateway Trails on Curtis Creek Road, and the NFF-funded Catawba Falls Trail, endured so much damage that they remain inaccessible. It will likely take years for the forest to fully recover, and many Old Fort residents have concerns about the viability of their businesses without access to key paths and trailheads.
“The storm has put a pause on our growth, and those trails are 100-percent crucial to the survival of this town,” Jeremy said.
“
Recreation in the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests generate $115 million in annual spending, money that goes directly to gateway communities and helps support 1,000 full-time jobs.”
Some federal funds have been allocated to support recovery efforts in Pisgah and Nantahala, and the NFF is helping the forests implement those resources. But to help meet the dire need, the NFF has also established the Southern National Forest Recovery Fund, unlocking and leveraging public dollars to address a greater extent of the required rehabilitation.
The NFF has done this sort of work in the past. After the 2017 Eagle Creek Fire burned almost 50,000 acres outside of Portland, Oregon, the NFF raised $200,000 and helped coordinate 36,000 hours of volunteer work to restore and reopen nearly every impacted trail. In the fall of 2015, a similar recovery fund overseen by the NFF rebuilt a bridge in a key trail system in New Hampshire’s White National Forest after it was washed away by Tropical Storm Irene’s flooding.
The scope of the Southern National Forest Recovery Fund will be even bigger: a goal of $250 million has been set to support recovery efforts. It’s a big fund, but Helene was a big storm.
“The sticker price of this recovery is in the billions,” said the NFF’s Blackburn. “We are grateful for the available public funds and will work diligently with the Forest Service to ensure those funds are implemented as quickly as possible, but additional private support will allow the NFF to do more, faster.”
The Forest Service knows that time is of the essence
in Old Fort, so Jennings and her crews have prioritized opening the Gateway Trails as soon as possible. Jennings is optimistic that, with proper funding, they can get the district’s most popular trails open to the public by Memorial Day.
“This storm felt like a gut punch to Old Fort because we all worked so hard for years to build what people were just now starting to enjoy,” said Jennings, who adds that Old Fort’s economic recovery can begin with the trails. “We know folks will come back when the trails open. That’s what the community needs right now.”
Check out the Southern National Forest Recovery Fund at nationalforests.org/ southernforestsrecovery and contribute to the recovery of small communities around the Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests.
Graham Averill is a freelance journalist and all around outdoors lover living in Asheville, North Carolina. He and his son rode mountain bikes at the Gateway Trails often before Hurricane Helene.
“The latest data underscores the undeniable importance of outdoor recreation to both national and state economies. States that prioritize outdoor recreation are creating jobs, growing local economies, and improving public health while building more equitable access to the outdoors for all Americans.”
Jessica Wahl Turner, President, Outdoor Recreation Roundtable, as quoted in Idaho Mountain Express
“The economic impact on the cost of doing this [forest health] program versus the economic impact of doing nothing strongly weighs toward the early intervention strategy. It keeps a healthy forest and it keeps a healthy economy.”
Alex Ingraham, President, Pingree Associates, as quoted on WGME
“A healthy forest economy goes hand in hand with healthy communities and healthy forests.”
Matthew Pelkki, Director, Arkansas Center for Forest Business, as quoted in Stuttgart Daily Leader
“Waterfowl hunting is big business in Illinois, but it wouldn’t be that way without the many wetlands that dot our state…Without these wetlands, less money will be spent at small town diners, gas stations, and outfitters, which hurts rural economies across the state.”
Randy Smith, Illinois River Project Director, The Nature Conservancy, as quoted in The Mendota Reporter
“[Hikers] spend money here at the coffeehouse, the outdoor store. That is revenue that we need to exist and I think it’s close to 20 percent of our business.”
Ben McNabb, Owner, Steel Rails Coffee House in Erwin, Tennessee, bordering Cherokee National Forest, as quoted on WJHL
“Whatever we invest to protect [nature], we’re getting significant dividends back. [Nature is] a major economic driver.”
Bill Stangler, Congaree Riverkeeper, as quoted in The Post and Courier
“With much of the industry rooted in rural regions, forestry helps sustain families, fund public services, and create new opportunities for growth. Its impact goes beyond economies—it’s about preserving [a] way of life.”
Brenda Tuck, Rural Development Manager, Alabama Department of Commerce, as quoted in Made In Alabama
“The beauty of forestry is in keeping our resources renewable—how, in properly maintaining the wood, we can properly harvest and make it into something used by everybody, like a pencil, your house, even toothpaste and space satellites.”
J. Lopez, Executive Director, California Wildfire Mitigation Program, as quoted in El Observador
“We can have a real impact on people’s quality of life and health if we can grow the outdoor recreation economy and give them more opportunities and more access.”
Brad Garmon, Director, Michigan Outdoor Recreation Industry Office, as quoted in Axios
“They support many businesses, they support wildlife. Our National Forests support drinking water for 60 million people across the country. These are really critical pieces of our lives.”
Aaron Kindle, Director of Sporting Advocacy, National Wildlife Federation, as quoted in Kiowa County Press
National Forests’ multi-use mandate supports economies big and small to best meet the needs of the American people.
BY CAROLYN BUCKNALL
After flying into Boise Airport, a group of friends rideshare downtown, drop off their things at a bed and breakfast, and venture into the city for something to eat.
Tomorrow they will begin their annual backpacking trip in the Sawtooth Wilderness, but tonight they chow down on burgers made from livestock grazed on Boise National Forest. The cook uses his earnings from a successful season to buy his son a rod from a local outfitter, and they take a fishing trip together on the South Fork of the Boise River. On the way home, their guide stops at a car wash and rinses off the dirt from her adventure with water that has flowed down from the Sawtooth Mountains.
Boise, like so many communities on the doorstep of public lands, depends on the forests that surround it to breathe life into the city.
For neighboring areas, National Forests are more than simply places to play. They are sources of clean air and fresh water. They provide seasonal and year-round jobs in the public sector, as well as accommodation, food services, retail, agriculture, and forestry. They support
research, manufacturing, and construction. And they supply a steady stream of forest products, from timber to ore, to local industries.
Unlike National Parks, which are highly vested in preservation, National Forests and Grasslands are managed to sustain forest health and productivity for the benefit of all. Their multiple uses—including recreation, grazing, timber, minerals, wildlife, and more—support economies at every scale, from a small burger joint in Boise to the national timber industry.
Healthy forests are essential for healthy economies, and investing in our forests is a key way to help communities adapt and thrive in a changing economy. Through our program work, the NFF is committed to caring for these incredible places—and the hardworking people that rely on them.
Open the fold-out to learn more.
The NFF works with local contractors to thin unhealthy stands on the Boise and Sawtooth National Forests. These projects not only keep forests healthy, but support jobs, produce fuelwood, and protect surrounding areas from wildfire.
National Forest Foundation 27 Fort Missoula Rd. Ste 3 Missoula, Montana 59804
406.542.2805
© 2025 National Forest Foundation.
No unauthorized reproduction of this material is allowed.
Editor-in-Chief: Hannah Featherman
Editor: Erin Vivid Riley
Writers: Carolyn Bucknall, Mary Leavines, Mark Armao, Graham Averill, Erin Vivid Riley
Designer: Shanthony Art & Design
At the National Forest Foundation, we believe forests and grasslands are as vital to all communities as clean air and water. Through Light & Seed ®, we aim to share stories that connect you to the incredible lands of the U.S. National Forest System.
Light & Seed ® is printed on recycled paper made of 30% post-consumer content. This FSC-certified paper ensures the highest environmental and social standards have been followed throughout the process of wood sourcing, paper manufacturing, and print production. More at fsc.org.
We’d love to hear from you. Reach our team at marketingandcommunications@ nationalforests.org.
National Forests are managed “to provide the greatest amount of good for the greatest amount of people in the long run.”
- Gifford Pinchot, first Chief of the Forest Service
$7.8B
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AT THE NATIONAL FOREST FOUNDATION, NATURE IS OUR SOURCE OF AWE, CONNECTION, AND PURPOSE. WHEN THE WOODS ARE HEALTHY AND BRIMMING WITH LIFE, SO ARE WE.
We lead solutions that restore the health of our people and planet. We make forests healthier by increasing their resilience to wildfire, improving their ability to store and filter water, and planting trees to ensure future generations of people and wildlife thrive. By building and restoring trails, campgrounds, and other amenities we rely on to recreate, we create opportunities for everyone to connect with the natural world.
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