A Thru-hike on Pennsylvania's Wildest Trail: The Mid State Trail

Amos, my trusty companion on this upcoming hike, at a campsite in our Pennsylvania woods

As many of you know, I have been in the throes of publishing my third book, Love and the Long Path. This book has been a project in the works for over the last three years. With all this time and energy spent before a computer screen, I thought it was high time to get my feet in the dirt again. I will be continuing to promote my new book, but from yet another lesser traveled trail.

The Mid State Trail's northern terminus on the border of New York

I am excited to announce I will be thru-hiking the Mid State Trail (MST) or what is also called "Pennsylvania's Wildest Trail" starting April 21st. That name alone was enough to lure me in! But it was while thru-hiking the Finger Lakes Trail (FLT) and its six branches that I first learned of this trail. The Crystal Hills Branch which begins at the main Finger Lakes Trail in South Bradford State Forest, travels south, roughly 47 miles, to the northern terminus of the Mid State Trail. I remember well standing at that northern terminus sign on a dirt road and wondering just what it might be like if I continued southward. While hiking the FLT, I got to know Peter Fleszar, Regional Manager for the Tioga section of the Mid State Trail, and he suggested I look into thru-hiking the MST one day. The idea was alluring, especially given that this was my home state's long trail and the idea stuck. But with trails, like many things in life, you'll know when the time is right. Now is that time!

The Mid State Trail travels 331 miles from the Maryland-Pennsylvania border in Bedford County to the Pennsylvania-New York border in Tioga County -  smack-dab through the center of the state. But if I put that distance into kilometers - I may as well start now - its 533 km in length. This trail is the only long distance trail in the country that measures its distance, including its elevations, in metric measurement. Planning alone has been a mental exercise, but I've gotten mighty good at converting kilometers to miles by now. 

The MST is the creation of Tom Thwaites, a fervent supporter of the metric system, and began as a project with the Penn State Outing Club back in 1969. He measured this trail by pushing a Rolatape measuring wheel along hundreds of kilometers through the state and is the author of the guidebook that I will be using on this hike. In 2014, Tom Thwaites passed away, but his memory and trail lives on. The Mid State Trail Association, founded in 1982, is now largely responsible for the trail, and ensures its protection in conjunction with the Keystone Trails Association, PA DCNR, PA Game Commission, US Corps of Engineers, and about two dozen private landowners that allow the trail's passage on their property. 

Rocky trail - what I imagine the MST may look like at times, likely worse

I tuned into the Facebook page a couple months ago, when the notion to hike this trail really started to gel and asked some questions about terrain. Memories of boulder fields and hatchet-sharp rocks on the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania were still vivid in my mind and I hoped that this trail would not offer the same. Well, according to the answers I received...this trail will indeed be a rocky one, at times on par with the Appalachian Trail, at least for roughly half its length. But that's not stopping me. 

The trail is also known for its tremendous views, its remoteness, and the likelihood that one will "see more bears than people" when hiking it. If the numbers on the Mid State Trail Association's website (www.hike-mst.org) are accurate...only twenty-nine people have hiked the trail in its entirety and a mere four have thru-hiked it. I suspect there are more, hikers who simply didn't certify their hikes, but probably not many more. The southern half is reportedly more treacherous than the northern half, so I figured why not start with the worse of it and gradually walk into more rolling, less rocky terrain. I hope, too, that by starting in the south, I will be at the height of spring ephemeral season and continue to revel in these plants as I head north. 

Painted trillium (Trillium undulatum)

Speaking of the plants, as I have on all my long-distance hikes following the Appalachian Trail, I will be observing and studying the wild plants - with a focus on those that are edible and medicinal - that call this trail home. I am excited for the abundance of wild greens to enliven many a boring hiker cheese sandwich or pot of noodles and flowers to spy and sometimes nibble as I walk. Spring is a prime planty time and it has been a long time since I have been on trail in this season. 

Chickweed (Stellaria media) and cheese, anyone?

As time and internet permits, I will be sharing my findings online here at this blog and on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/thebotanicalhiker and at www.Facebook.com/groups/midstatetrailpa. I will also be sharing weekly videos with the Delaware Highlands Conservancy to share on their social media. Find them at www.Facebook.com/delawarehighlandsconservancy. The Delaware Highlands Conservancy provides land protection for the Upper Delaware River Region, promoting quality of life for the region's inhabitants from fish to fowl to four-legged and two-legged creatures. 

My father and I on the Appalachian Trail - Blood Mountain 

And I will be in good company and support on this hike. My father, trail name - House the Cat, will be joining me for about the first week and a half. My father, now 75 years old, joined me for many hundreds of miles on the Appalachian Trail back in 2008 and has walked numerous miles with me on other long distance trails to boot. 

Wise Man and myself on the Long Path

My love and life/trail partner in crime, Scott, trail name - Wise Man, will be with me for roughly two weeks of the journey. He would have loved to have set his sights on the whole trail but alas work, guitar-building projects, and music-making, is requiring him to not step too far from the civilized world. He will, however, be meeting me about weekly on the trail to help with resupply and brighten my spirits. 

Me and Amos

And here's the cincher...our four-year old, 80+ pound, coonhound, Amos Moses will be along for pretty much the whole trek. Amos lives for the outdoors. He is my trail running companion, joins us on every day hike and has got a number of overnights in a tent under his belt (and many nights in a tiny travel trailer). He will be a joy and a handful - he hates taking breaks on the trail and it takes until about mile nine for him to finally lay down and take a snooze while I take off my pack and eat a granola bar. But it has been a dream of mine, ever since reading A Walk Across America at 16-years old to have a canine companion on a long journey. However, because of Amos, I am not planning particularly long miles on this hike and I am prepared to alter my preconceived notions as needed. His safety is my primary concern.

 I estimate our hike will take roughly five weeks to complete. I am eager to more deeply explore the beauty of my home state and to know its hollers and mountain tops. It is said in a memoriam to Tom Thwaites, found on the Mid State Trail Association's website, that "He described hiking and the pleasure we get from being surrounded by and moving through nature, as an activity that reattunes us to our deepest selves." My sentiments exactly. I look forward, more than anything, to finding that solace that can only be found on the trail. 

Mid State Trail, here I come! I hope you'll follow along as I hike through our beautiful state of Pennsylvania.

Amos on trail in Pennsylvania game lands near home

 

Coming Soon: Love and the Long Path

 

At the southern terminus of the Long Path in New York City

I am delighted to share with you that my new book, Love and the Long Path, is coming to fruition. It has been a long path indeed. Writing a book about a trail takes far longer than hiking it. 

On September 4th, 2017, Scott and I set out from the West 175th Street subway station, our hearts filled with excitement and our stomachs churning with nervousness. This would be our first long hike together and my first long hike that wouldn't be largely solo. From city sidewalk to rugged mountain top, farmland and country road, we walked for thirty-two days, totaling 358 miles when we finally reached the official northern terminus in John Boyd Thacher State Park. By January of 2018, I started click-clacking away, putting our story into words. Thankfully, I'd kept detailed journals of our experience and taken many a photo, and when I struggled to remember, Scott was helpful in filling in the blanks. 

We met so many kind souls along the way who helped us in our journey, from fellow hikers to townspeople, and as we walked we were graced by the autumn's plants. More than once precious, cool weather, wild greens like wood nettle and waterleaf made it into a pot of instant noodles, and plants helpful in first aid, such as birch and pine, appeared when we needed them most. 

Scott and I sometimes struggled to work out logistics together. There was the time I totally miscounted the miles to a particular shelter and he was pretty sure I was trying to leave him the dust. On more than occasion, I could hear Scott's obscenities echoing over the click-clacking of his trekking poles behind me. But we worked through it. Scott earned his trail legs and I learned to chill out...well mostly. And a love that was still rather fresh between us, deepened and expanded. 

Animals crossed on our paths on many an occasion, most often at night when, from the confines of our tent, we couldn't see them but we could sure hear them. Spikey ones, furry ones, howling ones. 

The Long Path is alive in every sense of the word. It is rife with vibrant plants, maintained and crafted by those who hike it and love it, and still a work in progress. One day this trail will likely stretch all the way to the northern Adirondacks. Good thing my book is coming out before the northern terminus changes! And if compared to the big three - the AT, the PCT, and CDT - it may be a shorter long distance trail, but good lord, does it pack it in. There's no wasted miles on this trail. Every day offered reward and most days you'll have the trail to yourself.

So just when will this book be available? The expected release date is June. A book is a living thing, too, with many hands and minds that help to shape it - thank you to all those that have lent a hand or an ear in making it happen. 

The book (print version) is presently available for pre-order on this blog (see upper righthand corner) and on my website: www.TheBotanicalHiker.com. I'm offering it at small discount to those who pre-order here and those who pre-order will also receive an autographed copy! Once the book is officially released, it will continue to be available at my websites as well as Amazon and most major online book retailers. 

If you'd like a sneak peak at Love and the Long Path, those who are local can pick up the latest issue of Dirt Magazine. Check out the "Yonder" section - you'll find an excerpt there!

Here's to the Long Path!

Aqua blazes mark the Long Path's route

Turkey Tail: Drink in the Forest

 

Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor)

I have been quite taken with this flashy fungi lately. To stare into its rosette of kidney-shaped caps is almost hypnotizing. However, as eye-catching as this specimen was, not all turkey tail so readily catch the eye, especially amidst the colorful leaf litter. As you can see from the picture above, it shares the same color spectrum as the forest - the brown and gold and rusty shades of leaves, the slate blue-grey hue of a decaying log and even a touch of rich black-brown dirt. As of now, our forests are blanketed in white but I stumbled across this beauty while out for a walk in the woods off Old Mine Road in Sussex County, New Jersey before our first fallen snow. It was a day in which I allowed myself to play, simply run and walk and wander through the forest with no other reason than to absorb my surroundings. The first day of deer season was fast approaching as was a forecast for winter weather and I thought I had better appreciate my public lands before they were overtaken by (mostly) men in orange. Stumbling upon this turkey tail on an undocumented trail in the dying light was the highlight. It seemed a gift from the forest, a gesture of gratitude for my appreciation.

Turkey Tail, Trametes versicolor, is a saprobic bracket fungus that grows on dead hardwood logs, snags, and stumps, slowly decomposing its substrate. More rarely, it may also be found on conifer wood. Reportedly, it is a common mushroom here in North America, although I don't feel that I actually encounter it all that often. I have mistaken other bracket fungi at first glance for turkey tail and regularly find other species of Trametes, however I imagine true turkey tail sees me a whole lot more than I see it. 

Turkey tail (Trametes versicolor)

To identify Trametes versicolor, first consider the mushroom's substrate. Is it indeed dead hardwood? Admire its coloring. Turkey tail can be quite variable, but its colors are always in concentric rings and most often display different shades of brown, from a sandy-brown to a clay-colored reddish-brown. As you can see, turkey tail can periodically display blue coloring as well as green or orange. I often reference Michael Kuo - both his books and website: www.themushroomexpert.com for help in identification. He points out that these rings typically alternate in texture from velvety to smooth. Overall, the general surface of a turkey tail should feel velvety. 

Underside of Trametes versicolor

All species of turkey tail should bear pores on the undersides of caps. If you see gills, a textured carpet sort of surface, or the absence of pores altogether, you do not have a turkey tail. There are a number bracket fungi that can resemble turkey tail. To ascertain T. versicolor, that species which is considered medicinal, from other species, get out your ruler - and perhaps a magnifying glass - to measure how many pores you see per millimeter. T. versicolor should have three to eight pores per millimeter. Undersides should also be white or a very pale brown, not bruising when handled. Some species of turkey tail will bear just one to three pores per millimeter. Other species of turkey tail are not necessarily toxic, but they have not been studied as extensively as T. versicolor,  which has been found to be non-toxic and medicinally effective.

So what makes Trametes versicolor so special? Turns out the general public here in North America are just catching up to what those in Asia have known for centuries. In Japan, a pharmaceutical-grade extract of turkey tail has been used for over thirty years in cancer therapy, specifically gastric, colon, colorectal, and lung cancers to decrease reoccurrence, increase life expectancy, and support the immune system. Traditional Chinese Medicine has also long embraced it, using it in conditions of the liver, spleen, and lungs. Modern-day studies have shown that it is beneficial in modulating the immune system, fighting viral and fungal infections, and in protecting cellular integrity as an antioxidant. 

Turkey tail (Trametes versicolor) on cutting board - cleaned and ready to be snipped and simmered

So how can we ingest this valuable mushroom? Through the process of decoction. Mushrooms must be cooked for a significant amount of time to break them down and fully extract their properties. Simmering the mushroom in hot water is the best way to prepare a wild foraged turkey tail. Break apart the layers of turkey tail, thoroughly wash clean of dirt and debris, and then snip or tear the mushroom into smaller pieces. I use a loose palmful - roughly what you see in the picture above - to about twelve to sixteen ounces of hot water. For a typical decoction, one would simmer the herb for twenty minutes, however with turkey tail, I would simmer for thirty to sixty minutes. The longer you simmer, the more water you may need to use to ensure a full cup of tea. Keep the lid on your pot to reduce evaporation. Turkey tail tea tastes like the forest - earthy with a touch of bark. And I don't mean that in a bad way. It's flavor is agreeable, not over-powering, but transportive. One sip and I am sitting beneath the outstretched branches of an oak on a carpet of moss and leaves, the air cool and damp. Try it and you'll understand, undoubtedly, turkey tail is of the woods.

Turkey tail can be found growing year-round, which cannot be said for many of our other medicinal mushrooms. Reportedly, one is more apt to encounter turkey tail looking vibrant and at its prime, spring through fall. However, the turkey tail in these pictures was found prime for the picking in winter and I have encountered others as recently as last week (we're in January now). As I said before, turkey tail may spot you first, but on your next winter walk, slow down, tune in, let the forest in, and don't be surprised if turkey tail makes itself seen. Be sure to give thanks.

Escape to the Adirondacks: Northville Placid Trail

 

Northville-Placid Trail blaze

We recently took a three-day hike in the Adirondacks on the Northville-Placid Trail (NPT). The NPT runs from the town of Northville to Lake Placid. This was my very first hike in the Adirondacks, and truth be told, only my second venture in the region. Over twenty years ago, when I was considering schools, my mother and I had taken a road trip to visit Paul Smiths College (boy, does that make me feel old!) and although I remember being awed by the mountains, I was less than wowed by the weather. It was cold and grey and dreary and the college campus miles away from the nearest town. After that trip we had driven down to Asheville, NC, to visit Warren Wilson College, where it was seventy degrees and sunny and young people played hacky sack in the vibrant city not far away - and well, that was that! Considering the Adirondack Park is comprised of six million acres (2.6 of which is considered public land), making it the largest park in the lower 48 states, excuses for not returning since, I have none. Scott and I were well overdue. 

I dusted off an ADK Mountain Club guidebook I had purchased back when, and got to planning. We settled on a 22 mile hike from Upper Benson parking area just northwest of Northville to Route 8 just outside of the small town of Piseco. The NPT was appealing for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was a passage into the mysterious Adirondacks, secondly it appeared dog-friendly - void of treacherous rock scrambles, and thirdly not all that far from home - roughly three hours. 

Amos all suited up for the trail (Ruffwear approach pack)

Not only was this my first hike in the Adirondacks, but our three year-old coonhound, Amos', first multi-day backpacking trip. Amos has hiked many a trail, camped in a tent, and traveled for months at a time in a travel trailer, but we wanted to see how he'd fair hiking with a pack in potentially less than favorable conditions and making camp in a different place each night. We booked a shuttle with Bob, owner of Bob and Matt Campwood, whom we found through the Northville-Placid Trail Facebook page to shuttle us from our truck which we'd park at Route 8 to the start of our journey. Bob was a pleasure, didn't mind Amos leaving a lil' fur in the backseat, and a great start to our trip - I would recommend him to anyone looking for a lift. 

Scott on bridge over West Stony Creek

West Stony Creek

We started off from the trailhead mid-afternoon, temps in the low sixties, under gray skies that made the autumn colors pop. The yellow birch trees' silvery peeling bark studded with blackened hoof fungus contrasted the scarlet leaves of sugar maple that littered our path as we followed winding trail beside West Stony Creek. Amos had ample opportunities for a drink as the trail very gradually ascended (abundant water sources persisted throughout the hike). The forest green boughs of eastern hemlock drooped overhead while oaks and beeches spread their leafy branches across the sky, creating a canopy that couldn't help but make you feel like you were entering into a shrouded secret world. The NPT has been completed and a part of the park since 1927, making it older than the Appalachian Trail, yet never has it gained the popularity of some other shorter long distance trails such as the Long Trail or the John Muir Trail, so surely in hiking it, we were to experience a magic known to relatively few. 

Scott and Amos at Rock Lake

That evening we made camp, about five miles in, at Rock Lake. This was a glorious spot set not far from a bowl of blue water with a view of the collage of red, tan, and yellow trees around its circumference. As soon as we pulled out the tent, Amos bounded about excitedly, pulling bits of gear from our packs and throwing it around the forest. Once the tent was erected, he pawed to get inside and roll about. This guy couldn't have been more excited to spend a night in his favorite place - the forest. A barred owl hooted in the dusk and that night, a gnarly beech tree kept vigil as we slept. Now romantic as this sounds, I must say, it was a tight squeeze, three peas in a very small pod, considering we were zipped up in our two person sleeping bag with Amos wedged between. To roll over was no small feat.

Hobblebush (Viburnum lantanoides)

The next day we awoke leisurely, dined on warm oatmeal and instant black coffee, packed up our belongings and hit trail. The sun periodically burst forth from the clouds throughout the morning and later claimed the sky, lending us a beautiful blue canvas overhead. Hobblebush lined our path with plum-colored heart-shaped leaves and boreal forest plants such as bunchberry speckled the mossy earth. Hobblebush has edible blue-black one-seeded fruits (flesh can be sucked from the seed), whereas bunchberry, the smallest member of the dogwood family provides red pectin-rich berries, although both are mealy. Sparking amidst the leaflitter, was Foamflower, it's leaves bejeweled in forest moisture. 

Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis)

Foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia)

Partridgeberry, a prostrate vine of acidic soil, sporting the biggest leaves we've ever seen, twined along the ground, minty smelling wintergreen peeked from the leaf litter -both offering up tasty red gems of the forest - and snags and stumps housed plump ivory puffballs. Puffballs are a category of edible mushrooms, comprised of numerous genera, however the tricky part is finding those that are not already going to spores. These mushrooms, in fact, earn their name from their spore stage, when they turn hollow and become filled with airy spore that "puff" from a tiny hole in the mushroom's top when crushed. A puffball is edible when you split it open to find it pure white inside, rather than yellow or purple or oozy. But do your research before eating these - there are potential deadly look-a-likes. 

Puffball (Apioperdon pyriforme)

By late morning, we reached Meco Lake. Here, we walked undulating trail blanketed in crisp needles and were shaded by the boughs of an evergreen forest. I was excited to spot the flat needles of balsam fir - a tree that I rarely encounter and usually associate with higher elevations. Pinching a twig tip, I cupped it in my hands and breathed deep its sweet aroma. This aroma brings back so many memories of hikes past, from the Appalachian Trail to the Catskills. Balsam fir was dappled between thick stands of red spruce, which can be distinguished by its sharp four-sided needles arranged on all sides of the twig. Red spruce needles are also generally shorter and finer. I felt truly transported, we could have been far more than a few hours from home.

Balsam fir (Abies balsamea)

Meco Lake

At Silver Lake, only a hop-skip away from Meco Lake, in the damp, moss-cushioned earth, the delicate three-parted leaves of goldthread sprung forth. Although this plant is abundant in certain environments such as bogs and acidic-soiled moist forest, it is not one that you can find just anywhere. It is most certainly habitat-specific. Its common name refers to its golden colored thread-like root, which is rich in berberine, a medicinal constituent. For those of you who are familiar with goldenseal - a once popular herbal supplement - it too contains berberine. Berberine is a potent anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, and antioxidant. However, please do not harvest either of these plants from the wild  - instead opt for another berberine-rich invasive plant, Japanese barberry. 

Goldthread (Coptis trifolia)

Scott and Amos at Silver Lake

The forest floor held other treasures as well, such as this toad which I believe is scientifically named, Anaxyrus americanus - any of my amphibian-loving peeps out there reading? Correct me if I am wrong. Scott spotted him first, at a wet spot on the trail where we had to use roots to cross, and this totally cool dude remained perfectly still through numerous photos and our stepping over him. By the looks of him too, I think he'd been working out - beefcake!

American toad (Anaxyrus americanus)

Onward we hiked over rocky, rooty, trail, blanketed in leaves, now warmed in the mild autumn temperatures, beneath enormous rough-skinned beeches to which we had to crane our heads to the sky to see their leaves. These beech trees were continually perplexing throughout the trip. Beech trees typically have smooth grey bark, even into maturity. It's what sets them apart from many other trees that grow scaly or furrowed with age. However, it was no denying these were Beech trees, the mature ones with flaking/peeling bark and silvery-white patches, the younger trees covered in what looked like gray canker sores erupting in the trunk of the tree. After some research (upon returning) home, we learned of beech-rot disease. An invasive insect, originating from Europe, attacks the tree bark, which in turn leaves the tree susceptible to a native fungus that causes further damage. Eventually the tree, in its weakened state, falls prey to various insects and fungi. Over 90% of beech trees in the Adirondacks have been affected by beech-rot disease. Knowing this, has given us an even greater appreciation for this dominant tree of the forest.

American beech (Fagus grandfolia) with beech-rot disease

When we reached Canary Pond, the landscape expanded, sun pouring down upon us. Carefully, Scott navigated Amos over the plant boardwalk that crossed its width, while I got up close and personal with the pitcher plants that flourished in the pond's boggy, sphagnum moss turf. 

Scott and Amos on boardwalk at Canary Pond

Canary Pond

Pitcher plant (Sarrancenia purpurea)

Pitcher plants (Sarrancenia purpurea) cluster

Pitcher plants are by far one of our most intriguing native plants. These unique plants are carnivorous, meaning that they consume insects to supplement their nutritional needs, given that they typically inhabit nutrient poor soils. Insects are attracted to the flared hood, with brightly colored veins and nectar-rich glands. However this flap is covered in downward-pointing hairs that guide the insect towards the pitcher. Near the base of the flap, its surface is smooth and so the insect slides down into the pitcher, which is filled with rainwater. The plant produces enzymes that mix with this rainwater and gradually digests its prey, turning it into food. Pretty wild stuff. I've had a lot of folks express surprise at the fact these carnivorous plants can be found in the northern US. However, although they are habitat specific, their presence is not all that unusual. I have seen pitchers in numerous bogs surrounding where we live in Milford, PA and I remember well the copious sundews in Maine on the AT. This particular species grows along the entire Eastern US, west into Illinois and Michigan and throughout Canada. Apparently, it also grows in California. 

Amos on lunch break

We broke for lunch in a pile of sun-drenched leaves and it was then that we witnessed a most miraculous event - Amos took a break! Usually when we go for a day-hike, no matter the mileage, when we take a break and secure Amos' leash to a tree, he wanders about getting tangled around this tree and that, nags us for our snacks (despite how many he gets of his own), or simply leans into his harness facing ahead on the trail and whines. He'd rather be hiking than breaking - believe me I get it. But low and behold, from this break forward, he just took a load off, sometimes curling up and falling fast asleep. It only took about twelve cumulative miles. Great to know for our future long-distance endeavors.

Beaver lodge

Now what hike is complete in the Adirondacks, a region rife with ponds and lakes, than a beaver lodge sighting. It may seem strange that this lodge sat in the center of a dry meadow, but according to the guidebook, this meadow is at times a substantial beaver pond. In fact the trail purposely skirts this expanse due to its periodic flooding. This would also explain the lack of trees and snags at its center. At this meadow's northern end, at a stream crossing, we also spied a formidable beaver dam.

Scott and Amos at Mud Pond lean-to

When the temps began to dip and Amos took to shivering in the leaf litter on a water break, we decided to call it a night at the Mud Pond lean-to. Mud Pond lives up to its name with a thick muddy shore, home to many a blueberry shrub. The evening was quiet, all except for an owl hooting nearby and mice in the lean-to. In fact...so quiet. We wondered about this quiet - we barely heard a bird, a toad, not a chirp from a cricket nor a squeak from a chipmunk the entire trip. Never had we been in woods so quiet. Any of my Adirondack readers have an explanation for this quietude? However, we were also pleased not to hear a single passing car, airplane, nor human sound for three days. 

On the NPT amidst so many trees!

The morning began with a long descent towards the Sacandaga River. Temperatures were warmer than ever and the airy felt balmy. Last we had had cell service - three days previous - the forecast had called for rain and so we wondered if we'd lucked out. Did I mention how amazing it was to have absolutely NO SERVICE all that time? Pretty awesome. 

 

Scott crossing suspension bridge over Sacandaga River

However, upon reaching the river, all that changed. The clouds rolled in and light rain started to fall. We took shelter beneath the impressive suspension bridge, had a snack and suited up for the last 6 miles of the hike. Once to the other side of the bridge, the rain turned steady and continued for pretty much the rest of the afternoon. We hiked along, Amos keeping up the pace despite his usual aversion to precipitation, and I took the time to bathe in the vivid colors in which we were immersed. Had we had no way to get dry that night, I might have felt different, but given that within a matter of hours we'd be warm and dry and back in civilization, all I felt was gratitude for one more day in the these sacred woods. Don't ask Scott, he had a slightly different vibe, especially with the uphill that persisted for pretty much the rest of those six miles. 

Scott leading the way uphill on NPT

Adirondack meadow

Close to the end of our mileage, we crossed the outlet to Buckhorn Lake (I believe) - what a beauty spot unexpected. We walked downed logs hewn by beavers, dodged sucking mud, and marveled at evergreens strung with usnea lichen like garland. It is these unexpected displays of magic, on any trail, that stick with you, and that call you back to the trail again and again again. 

A swampy beauty spot in Adirondacks

Our last half mile ended in a torrential downpour and strong winds. The tree tops whipped back and forth overhead, thunder reverberated throughout the forest, as lightning illuminated the dark tree trunks beside us. And by god, Amos kept on hiking, despite dripping wet hound dog ears plastered to his head, wetter than I've ever seen him in my life. We dashed the last so many yards to the truck and just like that...we'd finished our first, of many, hikes in the Adirondacks.

Savoring Summer

Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus)

 

Sweet summer, if only you could last forever. My days have been deliciously long, providing me time to run the woods with Amos in the morning, wander the property during the day, picking this and that, my imagination filled with all the wild foods yet to harvest, some for the first time, and medicines to prepare, and in the early evenings, when it's quiet and cool, I can revel in a late day woods wander. With all that has been happening in our society lately, I know I'm blessed to be able to detach from that the turmoil and remain connected to that which sustains. I don't spend much time reading or watching the news these days - perhaps I'm irresponsible - but I think it's important we remain attuned to that which connects us all and nature's perpetual equilibrium. I think in doing so, the rest may follow. So, by chance you're in need of some of that connection right now, here's a little highlight of some of the plants that have been illuminating my days. I'm sure some of these grace your property or your favorite walking routes too.

Blue vervain (Verbena hastata)

Blue vervain, Verbena hastata, has been showing off her crowns of violet-blue flowers for roughly the last month in my neck of the woods. Vervain prefers the damp places, clustering on the edges of bogs and ponds. If you aren't on the lookout, she could be an easy one to pass by, but once you take note and let your eyes adjust, it's likely you'll see her elegant spikes punctuating the landscape before you. The leaves and flowers of blue vervain may be steeped in hot water for a nervine tonic infusion and is especially good for those who tend towards obsessive thought and anxiety. It is not one that I've had much experience with personally, but recently I harvested a small bundle that I put up to dry. I'm looking forward to exploring the energy of this plant some more. I have a feeling it could become a go-to.

Motherwort (Leonarus cardiaca)

Speaking of nervine tonics, here's Motherwort, Leonarus cardiaca. Take a stroll around the edges of your yard, where perhaps the thicket grows, weedy and forgotten, safe from the blade of the mower...this is a common dwelling for motherwort. Motherwort also likes horse pastures, farm fields, and roadsides. This non-native naturalized member of the mint family is a bitter herb that's just what your heart needs should you be experiencing stress-induced palpitations, high-blood pressure, or simply in need of a little comfort. The leaves and flowers can be steeped in hot water for an infusion or tinctured as well. Partake of motherwort daily for the best results. This common weed can also be helpful in regulating sleep cycles.

Goosefoot (Chenopodium albidum)

Here's another pasture plant. I've been grazing for greens these days alongside my parents' horse. Thankfully we have different tastes. She leaves all the hearty greens to me, but after I've done my picking I make sure to give her thanks by cutting her a big handful of tall grass from my overgrown lawn. Goosefoot, Chenopodium albidum, is one of my favorite wild greens, but not one that I've always had available. Years ago when I worked on a lil' organic farm in Western North Carolina, this five-foot weed lined the fallow beds and I'd happily take home a bundle at the end of the week. What a thrill to have access to it yet again! This wild plant is relative to quinoa and does provide similar seeds, but its leaves I appreciate most. 

Goosefoot leaves, upper and undersides

Leaves are glaucous, especially on undersides, which have a powdery appearance and texture. Because of this quality, I always cook the leaves, although reportedly, they are edible raw. We've been having sautéed goosefoot lately with pasta and curry, wilted and folded into scrambled eggs and veggie quesadillas. When cooked, it's similar to spinach, also a relative, and is packed full of nutrition, rich in vitamins A, C, B, protein and iron.

Seeds of wild amaranth (Amaranthus) - notice the heart-shaped cluster that happened all on its own - expect a picture of the green leafy plant here soon!

A relative to goosefoot is wild amaranth, scientifically called Amaranthus. There are numerous species of amaranth, aka pigweed, but all are edible. This is a plant of which I have only recently become aware. I don't know if its a newcomer or if the weeds finally got tall enough on the property that I finally took notice. Maybe I just didn't have my awareness tuned to it - it's amazing how we can live alongside plants for years, maybe a lifetime, and never really notice them until one day, you simply stop to wonder at that weed. I found notes I'd written about amaranth back in herb school a decade ago...this one never stuck. But it will now. I have harvested bundles of its seed heads and plan to harvest the amaranth seeds - that's right, the same thing you buy in the health food store - in the next week or two. Although as you can see, the heads are already eagerly offering them up. I'll let you know how it goes! The leaves of young plants are tasty raw too. 

Cauliflower mushroom (Sparassis spathulata)

Check out this wild and crazy fungus! Meet the cauliflower mushroom, Sparassis spathulata. I stumbled upon this cauliflower-shaped mushroom the other day when I ventured down a trail that I typically consider hum-drum. It bloomed, along with about four others, at the base of an old decaying stump and just down the way from an eastern hemlock snag, housing plates of burgundy reishi. This trail will be a new favorite from here on out. Some research told me cauliflower mushrooms were edible and no poisonous look-a-likes...what a thrill! I don't know why more foragers don't talk about this mushroom. It was deelish! I cleaned up its rubbery ribbon-like parts, washing them free of forest debris, and sautéed them with butter and salt. Sparassis made a terrific addition to black beans as well as a fried egg.

 

Boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum)

Boneset, Eupatorium perfoliatum, is always a special find. I was pleased to wander into this patch beside a large pond I regularly visit on my morning runs. It grew beside a stout patch of cattails at the pond's outflow. Boneset always strikes me as quite stout as well, in stature and presence, that is. It's perfoliate leaves are so rough they're almost sticky, its stalk sturdy, and its flat-topped clusters of white flowers bristly. It's a strong plant and a strong medicine at that. Its primary properties are immuno-stimulating, diaphoretic, and bitter. For many it was a common herb to reach for in fighting colds and flus. However, it's recently been discovered that boneset contains pyrrolizidine alkaloids, which over time are damaging to the liver. This is not a reason for us to nix it from our apothecaries, but we should be mindful to use it only for short periods and never in those who may be liver-impaired.

Mullein (Verbascum thapsus)

Every morning the yellow blossoms of Mullein, Verbascum thapsus, radiate, petals spread wide to greet the sun. I can see this particular plant, as well as some of those other mulleins you may notice in the background, from my kitchen table and every morning they make me smile along with the blue faces of chicory. Morning is a time of high activity for these flowers as they are a favorite of the birds it seems. Hummingbirds visit the blossoms daily and I've even seen a pileated woodpecker pecking at its seed capsules. I'm sure the bees take pleasure in mullein as well. By noon...the blossoms have closed. And everyday I wonder if that will be the last I see of their brightness, perhaps they will close and go to seed...yet every morning, at least for now, they reopen. The flowers have traditionally been used in ear oil for wax build-up and the velvety leaves are highly mucilaginous, perfect for moistening the sinuses and as a gentle expectorant, when ingested as an infusion.

Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus)

I'll close up this post with a special flower, commonly appreciated as an ornamental, Rose of Sharon. However, deceiving as common names often can be, this is not a rose at all, rather it's a hibiscus, in the genus Hibiscus and therefore a member of the mallow family, malvaceae. The shrubs from which I am harvesting were planted by my grandparents decades ago and continue to produce. Honestly, despite their beauty, for sometime I had never really acknowledged them. They fell into the "average non-native landscape shrub" category in my head. However, one day, just like that amaranth, I decided I'd look them up. Low and behold - medicinal and edible. Like other members of the mallow family, the leaves and especially the flowers, are demulcent. I peeled apart one of the flowers, took a nibble of its petals, and was delighted to notice this slimy quality immediately, as it pretty much dissolved in my mouth. A tea of both leaves and flowers is rather neutral tasting, I found, but still confers moistening anti-inflammatory properties. I have some further plans for this flower that I'll be sure to feature in an upcoming post. For now, I must say it feels pretty special to be making medicine of a plant that my grandparents - both plant people - treasured.

Until next time, remember the magic is all around, of which each and every one of us is a part. We need only take the time to notice.