Wild Adaptation

 

Miller's General Store in Blackwell hosts an Air B&B apartment downstairs - a lovely place to rest up!

We'd hiked 12 miles, just two days in. I checked Amos' paws that evening as I frequently do when we are on a long trek and found an abrasion on his right front paw. We'd cover this distance at home under normal circumstances on our daily runs and treks. I was concerned but not too concerned. He hadn't shown any discomfort. I smeared some ointment on it and hoped it would look better in the morning. 

We'd hiked a rough trail that day, following the North Link Trail, connecting us from the Susquehannock Trail to the Black Forest Trail in Tiadaghton State Forest. The North Link Trail is little traveled, nor meticulously maintained. The signage alone told this story.

Entrance to the North Link Trail - notice the tilted sign half-missing on the lefthand side

Still, this isn't my first rodeo nor Amos'. The trail started out surprisingly lovely, following an old railroad grade. We wound around the edge of a mountain with views of the sky through towering trees as the embankment dropped below us. However, after a few miles, we hit the bramble. And we walked off the map. Thorns ripped at my arms as I led the way, Amos ducked his head behind me. We met four women out for a hike who desperately wanted to know how much farther the bramble would continue. I told them it had just begun, which could only mean I had a long way to go till we were through it. 

Before the bramble, Amos in the lead

When we reached the other side, I was flustered but thought little of it. Then I looked at my arms, streaked with blood, my legs sliced to the thigh. I checked Amos over, he looked fine save for a twig or two in his harness. I sorted out just where we were, and we carried on. The late afternoon was hot and sunny, and I wondered once more at the cold weather gear that weighed in my pack. Next, we traversed a path rutted with deep hardened tracks from horses that had passed through in wetter conditions than todays. My feet slid this way and that, and Amos' did too. Perhaps these conditions contributed to his sore foot? Or perhaps he was already vulnerable given his skin sensitivities we'd been battling since last autumn? On last year's hike, I packed a can of antifungal mousse to resolve an infection. 

Beehive Spring on the North Link Trail

We camped that night not far from Beehive Spring, just a couple miles from the end of the North Link Trail. I pitched our tent on a bed of moss. Coyotes howled in the distance. Amos snored lightly. In the morning, I inspected his foot, it looked better. I decided to keep an eye on it and take a look again at a major road crossing at the start of our miles on the Black Forest Trail. If we had to we could hitch off the trail there.

The Black Forest Trail

Stepping onto the Black Forest Trail was like stepping into a dream. The path was a bed of softy rusty needles. Towering pines and birch saplings lined our path. Great big boulders sat sentinel in the woods. We crossed a quiet creek one, two times, I lost count, on rusted metal bridges. We stopped at the first camp available. I checked Amos' feet. Still good. I sat about and ate lunch while Amos tugged at his tie-out, ready to keep going! So onward we did. Two miles later, we found an equally lovely camp, this one high atop the ridge overlooking mountains painted for autumn. 

View from camp

Camp on the Black Forest Trail

I checked Amos' foot. It looked angry. A short day or not, we would stop. I purposely had carried an ungodly amount of water in case we needed to stop at any moment. That night the foot grew angrier. Amos limped a bit as he wandered from his snoozing spot beneath a tree into the tent. I shot an email to the vet. Of course it was a Sunday. I laid in our tent, gazing at our boy, so thankful to have him with me on this journey and wondering just how this injury had erupted. I had loose plans to meet up with Pete Fleszar, PAW Mega Loop Committee member, just one of his many roles in the hiking community. I've known Pete since back in my Finger Lakes Trail days, and then again when I hiked the Mid State Trail (Pete is Regional Manager of the Tioga Chapter) and we have remained connected throughout the years through our shared appreciation for the trails. I texted him and asked if he might be able to give us a lift from the nearest road. Amos needed a break. He responded instantly, even offering to retrieve us that night. Amos was already tucked in, as was I, and 2.5 miles from the nearest road. We made plans to meet the next day around noon.

The vista from Francis Road, where we awaited our pickup

Pete Fleszar to the rescue! A great big thank you, Pete!!

We sat on the side of gravel Francis Road, admiring what was probably the most epic view we'd seen yet. Amos pulled on his leash, whining to keep hiking. I assured him, he needed a break, even if he didn't think he did. I worried about him and how we'd resolve this sore spot. I wondered just how we might get back to this point on the trail. I wondered if we might have to alter our plans. I wondered how after just three days of hiking, only 18 miles in, we found ourselves here awaiting a lift back to our car. Amos has hiked hundreds of miles on long-distance trails with me. He's hiked the 330-mile Mid State Trail, the 250-mile Tuscarora Trail, 200 miles last fall in these very same PA mountains, Florida's Blackwater Trail, and trail runs and hikes daily with me. But hey, seasoned or not, sometimes you start a trail and you still get a blister on day one. I guess it was Amos' turn. So now, we rest.

Pine Creek in Blackwell, Pa

We lazed about Cross Fork, took a night at a lean-to on the Susquehannock Trail, and decided to still make use of the luxurious accommodations at Miller's General Store's Air B&B (see photo at top of post). If you're hiking through (or biking on the nearby Pine Creek Rail Trail) absolutely book a night at their apartment below the store. It is clean and quaint and funky. I would happily move in here. And even Amos, after some anxiety, decided it was quite fine. There's a covered porch overlooking a large lawn that stretches all the way to Pine Creek. Say hi to Anne and Ruth Anne (Ruth, whom I remembered meeting when I hiked through here on the Mid State Trail) are welcoming as can be and love pups. 

Amos on the Pine Creek Rail Trail (he still insists on short easy walks while we're resting)

And so, it hasn't been all bad taking some time of the trail. And Amos has good timing - it's been raining for days. We've downed some good grub, enjoyed driving these windy mountain roads speckled with cabins and creeks and barns and pastures that climb up hillsides, laid on a ridge watching the treetops dance in the wind and been lulled to sleep by rain hard as nails on a tin roof. I'm not quite sure where our path leads us next. It's up to Amos. But if there's one thing all these years of long-distance hiking have taught me, it's less about powering through and more about adaptation. You can power all you want, but if you do, in the end the mountain will conquer you. Remain wild. Adjust and adapt as all the other creatures do, despite your expertly crafted human plans. Open to the moment, who knows what it may have in store for you. 

Oh, and I must share some images from our first day on the trail, after our long climb up from Ole Bull State Park. Our first night was a spooky one! STAY TUNED to see where our path leads us next.

Spook Hollow on the Susquehannock Trail. Sign reads: Keep to the center of the trail. Stay within sight of companions. Refrain from looking back. DO NOT TRY TO RUN.

Spook Hollow Shelter 

The STS shelters are by far the most lovingly maintained shelters I have ever encountered. Each one is complete with decorative touches, which sometimes includes a battery-operated candle and calendar lawn chairs or picnic table, and often jugs of fresh water

A not-so-spooky vista from the ridge atop Ole Bull 

Hittin' the Pennsylvania Wilds Mega Loop

 

Paws on the PAW

It's that time. The forest is calling. Before us a trail unfurls, weaving through hollows, cresting rocky mountains, crossing creek and river. We'll walk every mile. And when we're done, we'll end up right back where we started. Though, I am certain we won't be the same. 

This weekend Amos and I will embark on a relatively new trail, the nearly 300-mile Pennsylvania Wilds Mega Loop, aka the PAW Mega Loop, or simply the PAW for short. This route was conceived by the PAW Mega Loop Committee, which is comprised of dedicated members of the Keystone Trails Association. The route has undergone a variety of changes over the years, all in an effort to guide the hiker into the most exceptional natural areas that the Pennsylvania Wilds has to offer. The PAW began as a linear route, a sort of choose-your-own-adventure, and today is a loop. And it's still in the works. 

The Pennsylvania Wilds are home to a treasure trove of long-distance hiking trails. The PAW Mega Loop utilizes portions of these trails and connects them via secondary trails, forest roads, and timber paths. Some of which have yet to be fully cut and prepped for the hiker. There is much I do not know about this route, but I can rattle off the established trails that I'll be exploring. I'll begin on the Susquehannock Trail System and head clockwise to the Black Forest Trail, the West Rim Trail and the Mid State Trail. I'll then weave down the Donut Hole Trail and over to the Chuck Keiper Trail. A patchwork of paths, some not cleared and not yet blazed, and lightly traveled roads will lead me into the Quehanna Wild Area and onto the Quehanna Trail. From there, it's over to the Old Sinnemahoing Trail, and back to the Donut Hole, by which will lead me back to the Susquehannock Trail in the village of Cross Fork. After a detour through the Hammersly Wild Area, I'll return once more to the Susquehannock Trail, traveling clockwise back to the beginning.

That's if all goes according to plan. There are many uncertainties about this route. It is circuitous, requiring about a dozen maps and a large handful of guidebooks and apps. We'll be hiking into late October, temps are likely to drop sometime. And services are slim. Every resupply, all seven of them, will be via a maildrop. I hope I remembered everything! But most importantly, this is not just only my hike. This is Amos' hike. And he calls the shots.

Amos Moses had serious surgery on his cruciate ligament back in March. The vet warned me there were no guarantees that he'd ever hike a long-distance hike again. Today, I am grateful to declare our very cautious vet has officially cleared him for another long trek. That's right, Amos will put paws on the PAW! We have been graced with more hikes together.  

We hit the trail this weekend! I've got Pete Fleszar's informal guide to the trail, a navigation device, all the maps, and even some borrowed guidebooks courtesy of Jenn Ulmer. And the pack is bursting at the seams (remember I'm packing for two). Thank you to the PAW Mega Loop Committee and the Keystone Trails Association for all they do to make journeys like mine possible. PA WILDS here we come!

An Immersion in Kinship

 

Processing herbs for medicine in the Plant and Place Immersion

What an incredible season we've had with the Plant and Place Immersion! We've explored botany, taxonomy, plant ID, medicine-making, materia medica and the human constitution. We've honed our sit spots and found new ones too. We've barefoot walked, contributed to a medicine wheel garden, and discovered goldenrod galls and broad-winged hawks. We've cultivated relationships with neglected gardens and the deer that visit them, appreciated monarchs and gigantic grasshoppers and eastern amber wings, and invited bunnies to snooze in our chamomile beds. We've discovered human connection too, and the spirit-medicine that comes from being part of community that shares a love for the natural world. Apparently, I've been so immersed I haven't posted here on the blog in months. 

We're now just one weekend away from our last in-person weekend session. I've got all the feels. But lucky for me, participants will gather once more in November for our Autumn Plant Walk. We've walked a plant-ti-full path together. I'd love to share with you some snapshots from our journey in the Plant and Place Immersion. 

Exploring the Milford Experimental Forest

Black Birch tea to close a forest bath

During our first weekend, we introduced ourselves and became better acquainted, with each other and the forest, through a forest bathing session. The 1,400- acre Milford Experimental Forest provided the perfect place to begin our path together. We discovered hideaways in big ol' trees, reveled in the soundscape of birdsong, creaking trees, and faraway cars, and sipped fragrant black birch tea. We shared our stories. 

Gathering organoleptic knowledge about the plants by using our senses 

Journaling our impressions

Participants took slow time with the plants, getting to know them through their senses. Sensory, or organoleptic, knowledge can provide insight into a plant's energetic qualities and how a plant may influence our bodies. Slow time also provides an opportunity to get to know the plants as individuals, to cultivate relationship. Participants journaled their impressions and monographed plants as we met them, creating their own materia medica. Herbal monographs are a way to document how to work with the plants as medicine. A materia medica is a catalogue of herbal monographs and a lifelong resource for health and well-being.

Learning botanical terms

Keying out plants for accurate plant identification

We dove into botany. Participants learned how to describe the morphology of a plant and what parts of plants make them most distinct. In the field, we put Newcomb's Wildflower Guide to use, learning how to use a botanical key. Keys provide insight into what makes each plant unique and ensures accurate identification. Confident ID is essential when harvesting plants for food and medicine.

Enjoying wild food together

Nettle compound butter topped adorned with violet

We enjoyed wild food! Together we prepared a stinging nettle compound butter, using nettle harvested from the garden. We slathered that green buttery goodness on hunks of baguette, while also sampling garlic mustard pesto, chickweed flowers and violet leaves, and Japanese knotweed pickles. 

Making herbal infused oil

Straining herbs

Prepping yarrow for tincture

Breaking up Yarrow to be made into tincture

We spent two weekends preparing a variety of medicines. Participants learned how to prepare teas, tinctures, infused oils and salves, and infused vinegars. The herbs that we used were wild harvested from the meadows at Wagon Wheel Preserve and from my home garden. These are essential preparations in the herbalist's apothecary. Those remedies that the students took home will surely serve them well throughout the year.

Scott, Lakota Pipe Carrier

 

Paulie and Erin of Blue Herons Farm and Native Nursery

Contributing to the Community Medicine Wheel Garden

Throughout these weekends, guest teachers joined us. My partner Scott, a Lakota Pipe Carrier, shared indigenous philosophy and led us in a pipe ceremony. Erin Shroll and Paulie Cardillo of Blue Herons Farm and Native Nursery welcomed us to contribute to the Medicine Wheel Community Garden. We dug our hands in the dirt, planting starts and arranged stones. One participant contributed an exquisite hand-painted stone. Paulie also led us in braiding freshly harvested sweetgrass.

Bryanna with her work of art for the garden

During our fourth weekend, we wandered out. Naturalist Emily Woodmansee of Bluestone Village guided us in the questioning, expanding our senses, and mapping birdsong. Barefoot Ken inspired us to kick off our shoes and explore pond, forest, and creek, proving that barefoot really is just more fun!

Naturalist Emily Woodmansee sharing methods for nature connection

Having fun sans shoes with Barefoot Ken

Throughout our time together we've met countless plants together and individually. In circle we've shared poignant plant interactions, silly stories, and mindful musings. Participants taught each other, through researching the plants that they met and through their insights from connection with the natural world. Every one of us has been teacher and student at once, including myself. I have been honored to be their guide and fortunate to be part of their plant path. Now we have finished our twice monthly Zoom sessions and have just one in-person weekend left!

In the field

We'll spend our last two days exploring trees and mushrooms. Participants will learn how to better see and name the trees and work with them for medicine. We'll discover how trees and fungi are intricately connected, methods for safely working with wild mushrooms as food and medicine. We'll connect with the land and each other and share resources for further learning. Mostly, I'll just revel in these soulful plant passionate people and dream about the ways in which their kinship with plants and place may continue to unfold.

If you'd like to immerse yourself in the green world, work with the plants as food and medicine, and remember that you, too, are wild and all the living beings your kin, drop me a line. It's not too early to sign-up for the Plant and Place Immersion 2026. Registration will officially open in late autumn/early winter, and I may fine tune some points between now and then, but the flow will remain the same. See the 2025 Immersion here: Immersion. The plants await . . .   

Herb School - A Path to Connection

The Plant and Place Immersion is your path to connection.

I am excitedly gearing up for the Plant and Place Immersion this spring! Together we'll dig deep into bioregional herbal medicine, build our knowledge of place, and cultivate relationship with the living world. 

The Plant and Place Immersion officially begins the first weekend in May. Our intimate group - limited to 10 - will study herbal medicine through five full weekends of hands-on in-person learning and eight evening virtual sessions. Thoughtful home study will weave together what we learn in-person. Participants formally finish the last weekend in August. Two bonus seasonal plant walks, exclusively offered to participants, one in April and one is Autumn, bookend the experience. The Immersion takes place in Milford, Pa on the Wagon Wheel Preserve and within the Milford Experimental Forest. More details below (after a short story). 

My graduating class from the Chestnut School of Herbal Medicine 2010. Pardon the poor quality, this was before the era of top-notch cameras in our phones. Learn more about the Chestnut School (now online) here: Premier Online Herbalist Courses: Chestnut School of Herbal Medicine

Lately, I've been thinking about why attending an herbal medicine school is so valuable. To help paint a picture, I'd love to share with you a little about my own life-changing experience in herb school.

I attended herbal medicine school back in 2010. I chose an in-person program in Asheville, NC, where I lived at the time, that offered an inspiring curriculum. At that time in my life, I was still identifying my path. I was in my mid-twenties, had a degree in philosophy which qualified me for nothing and everything, and was fresh off a thru-hike on the Appalachian Trail. 

I loved nature. That much I knew. I loved having my hands in the dirt. I ate a lot of plants, experimented with them as medicine, and was excited to finally rent a home with a plot of land where I could grow my own garden. I knew I wanted to do something real, more than that, I want to live a life that was real. After completing the AT, the ordinary world where humans remained largely indoors solely engaged in the human agenda, felt less-than-real to me. In these human-centered settings, I frequently felt drained. Oh, but when I stepped outside, and engaged with the rest of the living world, then I too came alive! I asked myself some questions:

• How could I dedicate myself more deeply to the natural world, that which nourished my spirit? 

• How could I weave the natural world into my human life, so that the two didn't feel so separate?

• How could I learn to feed and heal myself outside of human constructs?  This inability had become glaringly evident after living on the trail for six months. Now it was clear this was essential knowledge all humans should have.

Herbal medicine school was my answer. I didn't have it all planned out when I signed up, but the curriculum spoke to me, the plants called to me. The school provided in-the-field experience. Classes took place on my teacher's property - nothing fancy simply a spot in the woods behind her house, a canopy for shelter. We visited the nearby national forest frequently where we met wild plants in-person and harvested them for food and medicine. We took three week-long camping trips in wilderness areas where we learned about plants and place, practiced primitive skills, wildcrafted, and shared stories. I found community with my classmates. Even if each one of us very different from one another, these were my people. We found wonder in natural world, we marveled at tiny shoots and gnarly trees, we believed in building lives outside the box, and if we didn't believe in ourselves when we started, we sure did by the time we graduated. By the close of the program, I was well versed in botany, taxonomy, plant and tree ID, herbal energetics, how herbs applied to human conditions, and how to prepare plants as herbal remedies. I didn't know it all, but herb school was the foundation. I had all the skills I needed to continue learning. 

And so did just that, in my own way. I hopped on the 1,200-mile Mountains to Sea Trail. The trail became my classroom. I studied the plants I encountered. I weaved them into backcountry meals and medicines. I blogged about the experience (you can find that here). I wrote a book about the edible and medicinal plants. I garnered attention for foraging and long-distance hiking and going-your-own-way. Folks asked me to teach classes and provide consultations and give talks and write articles. Fifteen years later, I am still walking this path. A path where I am engaged with the natural world daily, where I am inspired by the work that I do and the fellow plant-lovers I meet. I have found my place within the natural world and guide others in doing the same. 

Teaching basic botany during the Plant and Place Series 2023

There are so many directions herbal medicine can lead you. Every path will be different. But what I can promise you is that your path will be one of the heart, infused with spirit, and rife with joy. Your path, too, will benefit more than you. It will benefit those that cross your path, your loved ones, the plants themselves and the living world. When we find our place in the natural world, the earth benefits too. Too many have forgotten that we, humans, are a part of nature. This false dichotomy justifies and perpetuates the thoughtless consumption and destruction humans inflict upon the earth. When we recognize that the natural world functions through reciprocity, and we are participant, we remember we are of an earthly community. The earth is kin. We foster her health as she fosters ours. This is what the Plant and Place Immersion is all about.

The Plant and Place Immersion is more than an herbal medicine program, it is a path to connection. One that will benefit you and your earthly community alike. Sound good? Keep reading.

Plant and Place Immersion, Spring and Summer 2025

Meet the plants.

Through plant-sits, you'll have an opportunity to slow down, to examine what makes each plant morphologically unique, and also how the leaves feel when crushed, what scent they emanate, how they taste when nibbled. This is what we call organoleptic knowledge, aka sensory knowledge. Included in our sensory knowledge is the imaginal, those sensations, feelings, thoughts, and memories that arise when engaging with this plant. It's like swapping stories with a plant. Sensory knowledge is how people came to know plants' properties before we had labs to identify constituents. To work with the plants, one had to know them as individuals, one had to create relationship. This is our foundation. 

Learn how to confidently identify plants and gain knowledge of place.

Participants will learn basic botany and how to use a key to identify plants. Plants do not grow in isolation. Once you begin looking closely, subtleties become apparent. Individuals stand out in the green landscape. You'll notice when plants bloom, in what habitats they grow, and in the company of what other plants. Plants are not a microcosm. They root in the earth, absorb nutrients and water, and transform sunshine into food. Insects and animals visit them for food and shelter and, surely, you'll meet them too, especially when quietly sitting in your sit spot. This leads to the next point! 

Cultivate relationship to place.

Every participant is encouraged to find a sit spot, a place in nature to sit, turn on the senses, and notice. Through this slowing down and observation, you'll come to know place as our ancestors did. We can have all the facts in the world about the place in which we live, but we must spend time in place and allow space for communion, communication, to create relationship. This is way easier than it sounds. Just sit and be present.

Ethically and safely harvest plants for food and medicine.

You'll learn how to harvest plants through practices that benefit both you and the plants. We do not take the plants for our own use. Rather we ask that we may work with them, harvest only what we need, and give thanks. We can give thanks in a variety of ways - plant nearby seeds, sprinkle water, clear competing invasive plants, just say thank you! The plants give and we give back. This is practicing reciprocity.

Prepare plants as food and herbal medicine.

Participants will learn how to incorporate wild harvested and homegrown plants into delicious meals and easy healthy snacks. You'll learn step-by-step, hands-on how to prepare herbal tinctures, infusions and decoctions, infused oils and salves, herbal vinegars and more. By preparing plants as food and medicine, we create relationship with them and the place in which they grew. As we consume them, they nourish us and contribute to our physiology. We quite literally become inseparable. 

Discover how herbs benefit the human body.

I'll share with you the ways in we can work with these plants to balance various imbalances within the human body. We'll monograph the herbs that we meet, by creating detailed medicinal profiles. These profiles will contain both scientific knowledge and traditional ways of knowing. Every participant will finish the program with a materia medica - a collection of plant monographs - to reference for a lifetime. Participants will have the skills to expand their materia medicas as they meet new plants.

Methods for connecting with plants and place.

Forest bathing, barefoot walking, journaling, and gardening will further inspire your path to connection with the natural world and her green inhabitants. Guest teachers will provide a variety of insights from their paths. The ways in which we find connection are varied and personal. Through the Immersion, you are sure to find those ways which most resonate with you!

Enjoy a community of like-minded earth-centered folks.

This is yet another advantage to attending an in-person school. With your fellow participants you'll revel in the natural world and make connections in unexpected ways. Intentionally built into the curriculum is time to share stories and insights. We have much to learn from one another.

Kinship with the natural world is the most powerful medicine there is. If you're considering herbal medicine school and a path to deeper connection, I hope you'll join me this spring for the Plant and Place Immersion! Learn more about the program here: Immersion

Take advantage of a 10% discount through March 1st.

Don't hesitate to reach out with any questions you may have. I understand choosing your path is a big decision! Immersion

Enjoying a tea circle after forest bathing with participants in the Plant and Place Immersion 2024

Wandering Home: The Old Loggers Path

 

Old Logger's Path signage crafted from an old saw

We were slated to head home after the Allegheny Front Trail. I hadn't set out on this wander with any firm intentions of how many miles we would hike or how many loops we would complete. For when I had planned our journey, I had been so busy, so mentally fatigued that I couldn't contemplate detailed itineraries or too many goals. Also, right before we began Amos had developed a skin condition that required a medicated wash and mousse and antibiotics. I didn't know how dealing with this condition while hiking was going to pan out. However, with each day my mental clutter lessened, and his skin condition improved. By the time we were done with the Quehanna Trail, we were stronger and my remaining miles on the Susquehannock Trail System breezed by despite the week of rain that settled in upon us. The rain had been logistically tricky. We found ourselves repeatedly back at a little cabin in Potter's Family Campground taking shelter. I was eager for the Allegheny Front Trail. We were now in fighting shape, however given the weather that we'd navigated, I felt likely this trail would be our last. However, when I found us camped on what was to be our last night on the AFT, although I felt a tug to return home, I felt a stronger tug to remain on trail. Despite a very heavy backpack, the wilderness had markedly lightened my load and it seemed Amos' too. The quiet of the forest had seeped into my mental state and its beauty coupled with miles of movement daily had buoyed my spirits. I checked in back home, all was well at Wagon Wheel Preserve. Scott was still in Europe. There was no reason why we couldn't do just one more loop. 

Amos walking beautifully graded trail on the Old Loggers Path

I had rough notes on the Old Loggers Path. Like the Allegheny Front Trail, I had no official guide. I didn't even have a sturdy map for this one, although I had printed off a PDF map at home with very tiny print. I also appreciated the work of a fella I found online who had documented his waypoints along the trail: Old Loggers Path Backpacking Guide — Into the Backcountry (intothebackcountryguides.com). After futzing with All Trails on the AFT, I'd finally figured out how to use the map function without active cell service, so I hoped that would be a help. However, what I did know was that this trail was supposed to be easy, a 27-mile route of graded path utilizing old logging roads, forest roads, and railroad grade. I also had a trunk still packed with just enough supplies - dehydrated meals, fuel, water purification - that we could swing it last minute. It seemed like a great way to wrap up our journey.

Rock Run - deemed the "prettiest creek in Pennsylvania"

We began our journey at the Ellenton Road trailhead, that is after realizing a bridge was out on Pleasant Stream Road that forced us to do a sizable detour on forest roads. The Old Loggers Path traverses Loyalsock State Forest, an area I had never before explored. I was amazed at the remote feeling of this region, as I drove winding leafy forest roads through the mountains without service, my trusty PDF map by my side. Had I not seen very official roadside signs welcoming me to LOYALSOCK STATE FOREST, I would have turned back. We parked it later in the day that I would have liked, eight miles ahead of us to the Doe Run lean-to where I planned we'd stay the night.

Lichen on rock - looks a bit like elephant skin does it not?

 Admittedly I don't have many great pictures of this first day. I started off in long pants and sleeves which takes a lot. The temps felt colder than I had expected and once we started the already subdued light was swallowed by grey clouds. We started downhill on, as described, wide well graded path. However, the forest felt dull, lacking in life. The forest floor was rock and leaves. Tree limbs that west of here had still sported showy leaves were already bare. To add to that, all of these trees seemed so young, many were beech and showed signs of disease. I thought about the name of this trail, Old Loggers Path, and was reminded that all these woods had surely been cleared less than a century ago. I carried on and tried to remind myself that this easy trail was a breeze to walk. When we crossed paths with a particularly large yellow birch, towering amidst the hardwoods, its base buttressed so that I felt I could nestle into a crook, I paused. I laid my hands upon her peeling bark. I wanted to let these trees know they were seen. Did they see me too like the hemlock in Hammersly Wild Area. I sensed they did, but the trust didn't come as easy. When we lunched at the beautiful Rock Run, a clear, cold creek that carves between layered rock and the roots of hemlock, falls from stony ledges, and did indeed have a feeling of the ancient, all the forest seemed cold. I sat on a seat that some other human had fashioned lovingly and that too felt cold. The forest was so still I could barely imagine any other humans ever having been here. Amos was eager for lunch, however after was also eager to move on rather than snooze for it was too cold to stall. I questioned for the first time, just why were we out here? I could be home, warm, eating something besides a stale english muffin and old cheese. 

Doe Run Shelter

We pushed on to Doe Run Shelter, which I found to be surprisingly inviting. While making dinner, the sun suddenly began to peek through the clouds. It soon drenched the sky in pink as the clouds thinned into wisps. My bones warmed, a little. I read the trail register inside the lean-to and found dozens of entries. So many people had passed through these woods. Young backpackers on their first journey with a parent, groups of four and five, a number of solo folks doing the loop. Each one spoke of the beauty of this place, the magic, the wonders they had found. This forest was not empty. Devoid of life. Not only were the young trees and clear, cold, running creek evidence of that, but so was this journal, packed full of people who had found joy here. Nor were these woods lonely or not seen. It was all in my perspective, I was comparing this trail rather than appreciating it for what it was. Still it was cold. I decided if there was sun the next day, we'd carry on for the entirety of the loop. If not, we would shorten our journey. This was no one's hike but our own. 

Road crossing on the Old Loggers Path and so much sun!

The next morning brought sun. Cold temps that made my fingers and toes go numb. But sweet, golden, sun, like manna from the Trail Gods. We hiked on, and as we did my extremities warmed. I shed layers. Amos tugged full speed ahead, his tail swinging like a metronome. Leaves crunched underfoot and the scent of autumn emanated. From the ground up, color appeared. 

A kaleidoscope of autumn color

I heard my first bird since starting this trail chirp and spotted large squirrels darting to and fro in the leafy understory. We turned off of wide graded path and onto true trail, climbing upward. Once there, all the sky had cleared. I could see for miles. Winterberry shrubs brushed my shoulders sporting red fruits. 

View from Sullivan Mountain, windmills in the distance - this region is known for its strong winds, hence the wind power

Winterberry (Illex verticilatta) - a native, deciduous holly

Somehow the cold, crisp air no longer felt inhospitable. Now it was enlivening. I thanked the sun, I thanked the trees, I thanked the birds, I thanked Amos for his pep, I was just so grateful to be here. So grateful that I had decided to keep going. There was absolutely nowhere else on this planet I'd rather be. It was as if when the clouds cleared from the sky they had cleared from my own mind as well. I thought to myself, and I think it's a fair question to ask you too: Has there ever been a trail you've hiked where you said, You know I wish I hadn't hiked that trail? 

Wild Ginger

Not only had the sun returned, but midday my beloved plants returned! A healthy, flourishing understory of witch hazel and ironwood and so many precious native herbaceous plants: herb robert, wild ginger, wood nettle, broad-leaved waterleaf, wild anise, asters, and violet leaves. My step grew spritelier with every plant I saw. 

Star-shaped doubly compound leaves of Herb Robert

Asters gone to seed

And mature trees abounded! Great big oaks and beeches and yellow birches and black cherries. Frequently they seemed to be multi-trunked, as if they found more than one way to flourish in these woods. 

An elder oak

A two-trunked black cherry

The views persisted as well. Sullivan Mountain, Sharp Top, Sprout Point. So many vistas packed into one day. Even the road crossings had vistas. While walking another stretch of narrow true trail, I marveled at the ridge visible through the bare-limbed trees paralleling us. Walking one ridge and seeing another through the trees in the far distance, coupled with the brisk air and crunching leaves harkened of my early days on the Appalachian Trail. And I smiled. I remembered the miles my father had walked with me. I thought how he would have loved this well-graded trail rife with views and history. 

Sharp Top vista 

Sullivan Mountain vista

Vista at a road crossing

A ford at Pleasant Stream was a little tricky. Here the trail simply dead ended and I could see no sign of blazing on the other side. Fortunately, my humble PDF map did point to a bridge out, so I at least knew I was still on the right track. I tip toed on rocks while Amos waded, and he led the way once on the other side to where the blazed trail again returned. We also found a lovely place there for lunch and afterwards Amos was quite fine with lingering.

Amos with a full belly thinking deep thoughts 

We hiked 12.5 miles on this second day, each mile better than the one before it. We took a side trail to see Sprout Point vista, reportedly .1 miles off the main trail and thank goodness we did. Here we found our lean-to for the evening and the most stunning view that I'd encountered yet. All the valley spread out before me, layers of mountains on the horizon. I could see where rain showers were coming down in isolated areas on the ridge. I turned round for a selfie, and gasped...

I got my antlers back!

I had grown antlers! I chuckled and started to reposition so as not to have two prongs coming out of my head. Then I realized this image meaningful. In fact, it overflowed with meaning. I smiled coyly and snapped. Then put my phone away and breathed deep, gazing out over the immense beauty, the vastness before me. I raised my hands to my head, making my deer antlers once more. A great gust of wind swept through rattling the dry leaves and blowing stray hairs about my face. These, my antlers, they were my power, my strength, that which had felt subject to so much strain this past year as pancreatic cancer quickly consumed my father. As a family we had remarked on how he had lost his power. I'd dreamed of deer so much during this time. Typically, I was one or exhibited deer-like features. I guided deer to shelter and to safety. In my last dream, a deer's antlers had been severed. Somehow, by doing nothing more than walking and opening to the natural world around me, letting it come in and do its work, quietly and subtly day after day, my antlers were returning. I spread my arms wider overhead, creating elk antlers for my dad. An elk hunt was the last hunt he'd taken before he'd fallen ill. Again, a great wind swept up, blowing hard against my face and tingling my fingertips. He, too, had his power back. He had seen so many vistas with me on this hike, walked steps alongside mine, struggled up mountains, and marveled at tracks in the mud. My father, freed of the constraints of a body that could no longer serve him, now was everywhere. 

Signage on the Old Loggers Path

Our third and final day was one of light steps and fast miles. We walked graded path through spacious sun-dappled woods and between corridors of cut rock. Leafy oaks swayed in the strong wind that swept through the forest. It was surely the coldest day yet, but I hiked with bare arms, letting the cold wind awaken my every cell. Amos thought we should trail run at times and we did, a little. As we walked our last mile through young beech woods, their gray trunks standing slender all around us. I gave thanks to the trees, each one I could think of that had shared this forest with us. I gave thanks to the trail for carrying us. I gave thanks to the sun for warming us. I gave thanks to creeks for their nourishment. I gave thanks to Amos for being my steadfast companion. I gave thanks to my father for imbuing in me a desire for adventure, the unknown. I gave thanks to me for sticking with it and doing what I knew I most needed. For seeking and then surrendering to that which always brought me back to center. I gave thanks for my budding antlers.