Far from the concrete stretches of Los Angeles’ urban sprawl, a group of four young people clears Rogers Road Trail, the five-mile segment from Will Rogers State Park to Temescal Ridge, which is part of one of Southern California’s longest hiking trails–the 65-mile Backbone. The sharp aroma of sagebrush, laurel sumac and dense scrub oak wafts through the 90-plus-degree August air, as motorized tools cut through the dense brush, clearing and widening the trail. Holding a long-reach combination chainsaw, brush-cutter and tree trimmer, 22-year-old Irvin Centeno, assisted by Jean Luke Tabarez, 20, and 21-year-olds Ruben Armstrong and Maria Garcia, is clearing a segment of trail several miles from Will Rogers State Park. ’Come at it from up top,’ says Dale Skinner, a California State Parks trail supervisor, over the loud screeching of the garden tools on steroids. Armstrong, the newest member of the crew, nods and changes his technique with the chainsaw before sliding it over one of the thicker branches. The heavy oak branch drops swiftly. ’We are going to get this portion finished before we head back to camp,’ Skinner tells the crew of kids from the inner city, each there for his or her own reasons. The crew is several hundred yards from the ‘Lone Oak’ on Rogers Road Trail, a popular spot where hikers often rest for a little shade while trekking this beautiful and challenging portion of the Backbone, which stretches from Will Rogers to Pt. Mugu. ‘We’re going to spend around eight days at each spike camp,’ Skinner explains. The spike camp is farther up from the work site. Once the crew clears the brush, Skinner will come back from camp the next day and use a mini Caterpillar-type bulldozer to clear ruts left by the spring rains and mountain cyclists. The trail needs to be 4-to-6-ft. wide and give enough clearance for horse riders. Federal grant money from the National Park Service is helping fund the nine-month, $139,000 project, which aims to improve more than 15 miles of the Backbone along Rogers Fire Road. The goal is to make the path more accessible to equestrians, hikers and mountain cyclists The project also includes improvements to the ‘Chicken Ridge’ bridge and work on areas impaired by landslides. ’I like listening to Oldies while I work,’ says Centeno, a central L.A. native, who is wearing sunglasses and a carefully creased uniform. Farther down the trail, Tabarez is picking up handfuls of brush and chucking them over the side of the canyon path. Both young men seemed to have developed a routine out on the trail, working quickly and in unison on the task at hand. ’A lot of people who pass by thank us for our work,’ Tabarez says. ‘But once in a while we get people who tell us we ‘are ruining the trail.” Tabarez, who is from Buena Park, was recruited because of his experience with the California Conservation Corps. ‘Some cyclists don’t like the fact that we are removing the ruts and flattening the trails but most are friendly,’ he says. At the back of the group, Garcia–who hopes to join the U.S. Air Force after her time with the crew–is replacing the blades on one of the combo units. Garcia was recruited from the Los Angeles Conservation Corps, where she enjoyed working on various projects around L.A. County. Skinner says she has the makings of leader, and a ‘very strong voice.’ Putting the blades in place, Garcia begins using the trimming extension to cut down sumac and oak branches hanging over the trail. ‘This trail will be overgrown quickly if we don’t do this,’ Skinner says in the tone of a man who clearly enjoys his new of line of work. Formerly a heavy equipment operator and horse trainer, Skinner now coordinates and maintains all the trails within the State Parks Angeles District, including Topanga and Malibu Creek State Park. ’He is a pain sometimes,’ says Garcia of Skinner. ‘He makes us walk back to camp for our lunch but counts it as part of our break.’ When asked if his crew likes him as a boss, Skinner says, ‘Probably not but I hated most of my bosses, too. When I look back at all the stuff I pulled, I understand why they were such mean [jerks]. But I hope they think I’m fair.’ After hitting the trails around 6: 30 a.m., the crew works until 6 p.m. before beginning their 30-minute hike back to camp. At day’s end, Skinner is throwing ribs on the barbecue to feed the hungry workers. Behind him, the sun is starting to set, and in the distance the glimmer of L.A.’s city lights can be seen from the camp’s open vista. Some of the team relaxes after a hard day’s work while others check their cell phones as they wait for their turn to grab the solar shower bags and get cleaned up. ’When the sun goes down, we’ll use those electric lights for camp,’ Skinner says. ‘We are not allowed to make a campfire out here.’ A diesel generator and propane tank power the lights and plugs, allowing the crew to charge their cell phones. Garcia called home to check with her family. ‘They are always doing something while I’m up here,’ she says. ‘My family gets together a lot on the weekends.’ Raised in South L.A., Garcia says she misses her family but needs the job that earns her just under $10 an hour. She’s hungry from a long day spent toiling out on the trail but isn’t too happy about the night’s dinner choice because she doesn’t like barbecue sauce. ’I like grilled chicken and vegetables’I like to eat healthy,’ she explains, shooting her boss an accusatory look. ‘She’s a picky eater,’ Tabarez adds as he chows down. At the corps, Tabarez was stationed in a remote area in Northern California for six months. There he used hand tools for most of the labor and sometimes drank filtered creek water. He said he enjoyed the experience. ’I just used the opportunity to get out of there. I went in blind but it was one of the best experiences of my life,’ Tabarez recalled. After the corps, he never returned home. Instead, he rented an apartment in the San Fernando Valley with a fellow corps member and began working as part of the trail crew. However, his roommate moved out and he lost his apartment not long after the move. When not spending nights at the trail camp, he was sleeping in his car. ’Hell no, I’m not ever going back home,’ he claimed, without elaborating as to his reasoning. ‘I’ve enrolled in night classes at [Los Angeles Pierce College].’ Tabarez said he plans to hike out every night to make it to class. ‘I’m hoping Dale will give me a ride to the parking lot,’ he says of the eight-mile journey to his car. ‘If not, I’ll just hike out.’ Like his other team members, Tabarez works five days week. He is planning on finding an apartment during his time off as well as taking the one course at Pierce College. He is not sure what he wants to major in. Centeno, a former L.A. Conservation Corps member, is busy practicing graffiti art in a book. ‘I’m in a tagging crew back home,’ he says, referring to his Mid-City neighborhood. ‘I enjoy being out here because it gets me away from all the drama.’ Centeno admits that he got the job because he was just looking ‘to make some money’ but has learned to enjoy ‘the quiet.’ Opening a photo album, he shows off some of his colorful graffiti work. There’s a lot of crime back home, he explains. Centeno lives just a few blocks from Venice Boulevard and South La Brea Avenue. ’It’s always nice to get away,’ he says. Armstrong, who lives on West Washington Boulevard not far from Centeno, is scribbling in a book, too. He and Tabarez met when they were stationed in Northern California. ’I would never show this to the guys back in my neighborhood,’ he says reluctantly. When asked what he was writing, Armstrong says: ‘It’s a list of superpowers.’ The rest of the group overhears his interest in superpowers but they don’t seem surprised’they just smile. As the night grows late, laughter and stories fill the cool evening air above Topanga State Park. The crew admits that besides the allure of the outdoors, being with like-minded people who don’t mind hard work and aspire to change their lives keeps them coming back. The next morning as a thin marine layer moves in over the hills, Skinner’s cell phone rings with the usual alarm’the theme song from ‘F-Troop.’ ’I hate that song,’ Tabarez grumbles as he eats some breakfast before heading back out on the trail. Armstrong flashes a smile and follows his friend into the morning sun.
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