Book Club

The Green Witch

This month we got in touch with our inner witchy side. Our Alpine Trails Book Club book selection was The Green Witch: Your Complete Guide to the Natural Magic of Herbs, Flowers, Essential Oils, and More and we paired it with a fall hike to the spooky historic Old Robe Canyon where an old railroad track lay in ruins. It was a perfectly cool and sunny day to explore and get in touch with nature.

The trail begins with a quick jaunt down many switchbacks to the base of the canyon. Huge bigleaf maples towered above our heads with just a few bright yellow leaves clinging to life. Branches, crooked and spiky and blanketed in moss, hovered above like the skeletal fingers of green giants. It was one of the first frosty days of the year and the shed leaves were outlined in a delicate ice, frozen in time. Horsetail shot above our heads in what was decidedly the most dense horestail forest we’ve all seen, and we imagined plucking them to use as broomsticks.

My husband and Evie (in her brand spanking new pink boots) ran ahead to keep warm as I caught up with my lovely coven of three teachers. They exchanged their woes of teaching through Zoom (I don’t know how they are doing it!), and how their kids are handling an on-going global pandemic along with the normal grade school challenges. I know these kids are better off for having these amazing and supportive teachers, but I may be a little biased in that these ladies are some of my very favorite people.

I gushed to them about my newest endeavor – going back to school to study landscape design. One of the classes I’m taking is evergreen plant identification and I’m learning the Latin names of over 100 plants. It makes me feel SO smart and fancy. Many of the plants I’m studying are native plants that we see on the trail. I point and yell them out like I’m casting a spell: Vaccinium ovatum! Polystichum munitum!

But, as we learned this month in our primer to green witchery, being a green witch is not about casting spells. It is all about making an intentional and singular connection with nature. It is not a religion, but rather a way of noticing and gathering energy from the world around us. The author encourages aspiring green witches to attune themselves to nature through grounding, working with the seasonal cycles, and finding the magic that already exists all around us.

Magic implies something out of the ordinary. But to a green witch the mundane is magical. When she senses, responds to, and gently nudges the flows of natural energy around her, nothing could be more natural. She’s performing natural magic. Nature itself is magical. The everyday is sacred to the green witch.”

Arin Murphy-Hiscock, The Green Witch

Our short walk brought us to the most interesting part of the trail. Here the canyon and river narrowed and the roar had us raising our voices to hear each other. We walked along man-made walls and train beds carved from the stone that felt like ancient ruins. Huge rusted nails rose from wood ties that have been there for over 120 years. The people who built a railroad here where looking to capitalize on the nearby mines of Monte Cristo and chose a location that was doomed to fail. To us it seemed obvious that this tight canyon was a terrible place to build a railroad, but perhaps we are much more in tune with nature than the white men of yore.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed our trip into the past. We found some nice boulders next to a waterfall to gather on for a snack and chat about the book. We all agreed that the book had some great practical ideas for things to keep ourselves sane during the winter months ahead. I shared how I had been in a rut lately and the book inspired me to clean my whole house all at once and get out my diffuser with some cedar essential oil. Just performing something that I usually unwillingly do anyway, but doing it in an intentional and ritualistic way made all the difference in my mood. I will from now on reframe “cleaning” as a “cleansing ritual.”

Meditation is encouraged in the book along with acknowledging and celebrating the seasons. The author guides us with a lovely fall meditation:

Once you have reached a place of comfort deep inside the earth, breathe that energy in, and feel it fill your body.

Feel the soil’s energy at this time of the autumnal equinox. Feel the energy of completion and contentment that vibrates the earth. Reach out and sense the fullness, the feeling of achievement as it flows through roots and stems. Explore the gentle, slower movement of energy throughout the soil and the roots of plants as the cycle of producing fruit and seed comes to an end on the surface of the earth.

Sense the feelings of contentment, of life, of pleasure and satisfaction, of appreciation and offering that pulse through the land.

Remain cradled by the energy of the soil as long as you like, enjoying the feeling of plenty and serenity around you.“

Arin Murphy-Hiscock, The Green Witch

It was too cold to linger for too long, but before we headed back I had the group take a few minutes to ourselves. I know for me, it seems like I hardly ever give myself permission to take time to just be. I used the time to sit, close my eyes, and listen to the water rushing by while telling my brain it was okay to just relax. It was a little effective and felt nice to pause for a moment in my busy life.

As we returned to the trailhead, I marveled in how well Evie did on the hike. She walked the whole way by herself and we didn’t have to bribe her too much. The group chatted about their own kids and how we were going to celebrate the upcoming holidays and how everything will be different this year. It is a crazy and stressful time we are living in, and for me personally, knowing that I have these amazingly strong and compassionate friends along with some tools in my toolbox in celebrating my inner green witch for the coming months helps to put my mind at ease.

The Green Witch

by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

The green witch “is a naturalist, an herbalist, a wise woman, and a healer. She embraces the the power of nature; she draws energy from the earth and the universe; she relies on natural objects… she calls on nature for guidance; and she respects every living being, no matter how small.” YASSS! I literally gasped when I saw this book. It is basically a guide book to being an outdoor woman who wants to connect with nature on a deeper level. You’ll learn how to ground yourself, perform seasonal rituals, tap into the energy of flowers, use crystals, start a witch garden, and craft, cook, and heal with your new witchy finds.

Non-fiction // Published: 2017 // My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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Forest Bathing

I laid on my back and let the rain drops hit my face. I watched tiny orbs of mist swirl in the air above and gather on leaves until gravity took over and they fell through the sky and ran down my face like tears. Tiny droplets clung to my eyelashes in defiance, they weren’t ready to join the others in their inevitable journey to the ground. I didn’t wipe them away. They created a lens through which my eyes followed the lines of branches of the hardwoods through the green and yellow leaves searching for patterns and fractals and recognition among them, reminding me of the forests I explored as a child.

It was a cool November day and I wasn’t alone there lying in that forest, my book club friends were there too. We were spending the weekend at Laura’s family’s property on Vashon Island, a lovely site with a beach, whimsical cabins hidden away, and an impressive grove of ancient big leaf maples. It was the perfect setting for a day of forest bathing.

We arrived to Vashon Island a day earlier and explored the little town of Vashon. We had a delicious brunch at The Hardware Store, a (you guessed it) hardware store turned restaurant, and couldn’t help but browse the Vashon Bookshop and the Herban Bloom flower shop. But as charming as the town was, we were ready to get our nature fix and headed to the property.

We all know how good being in nature can make us feel. We have known it for millennia. The sounds of the forest, the scent of the trees, the sunlight playing through the leaves, the fresh, clean air – these things give us a sense of comfort. They ease our stress and worry, help us to relax and to think more clearly. Being in nature can restore our mood, give us back our energy and vitality, refresh and rejuvenate us.“

Dr. Qing Li, Forest Bathing

A short trail led us down to the beach were we spent the rest of the evening exploring. We found deer bones in the creek draining to the shore and sand dollars, limpets, tiny snails, and seaweed. We hovered near to each other in silent awe as we watched one of the most beautiful sunsets. The water lapped on the shore and I felt a sense of calm settle in.

We ambled up in a light sprinkle to our little home for the night dubbed the “Pink Palace” due to the hue of its concrete construction. Laura indulged us with lentil soup for dinner along with homemade cider and mulled wine. We warmed by the wood stove while we shared stories and played games by candle light. We bunked up and read ourselves to sleep.

The next morning, after breakfast pastries from Snapdragon Bakery, we prepared for a day of forest bathing. It was raining so we took our time. Rebecca got out her watercolors and painted. Others read the book and I made a plan:

Listen: rain, breeze, water

Look: greens, fractals, patterns

Feel: bare feet, lay on the ground

Taste: fresh air, dirt

Smell: essential oils, dirt, plants

We left our cameras and phones behind and found an open spot in the nearby forest. I read a bit of the “How to Practice Shinrin-Yoku” chapter of the book to get us started. Then it was time for silence and exploration. There was no trail, no destination, no time line, just immersion in the moment and nature around us.

After laying on the ground with raindrops on my face, I got up to wander. I found slugs of many sizes, teeny tiny slugs that I’ve never noticed before, large ones resembling bananas, and medium sized ones with the most intricate patterns and “legs” that looked like delicate eyelashes. The more I looked, the more I found. Tiny mushrooms glissaded down a tree stump, licorice ferns emerged from the huge maples and skeletons of leaves were traced in lacy fractal patterns.

I wish we had better words to describe what we see, like the Japanese word komorebi – sunlight filtering through trees.

I pulled a licorice fern from the moss, wiped the dirt away from the roots and sniffed it. I bit into it just enough to find the taste of anise and loamy earth I was looking for. I picked some soaked sorrel, nibbled on them, and let the spice linger on my tongue while I walked barefoot through a blanket of wet leaves.

I walked along a small brook and listened to the water on its journey to the shore. I found a tree root crossing the water to a cedar tree. I climbed over and sat beneath the branches that were so big they almost touched the ground. I felt so cozy and comforted in this spot. I sniffed at the bark, searching for its essence, but only later got a whiff when doing a little sun salutation. Its like the smell is not of the tree itself, but rather of the tree and all of its surroundings here and now in just the right combination.

I sat for a while under the tree listening. The light rain like the Japanese word shito shito and kasa kasa, leaves rustling underfoot. I pondered a while about a question Dr. Li poses in the book, if there was one natural sound you could preserve forever, what would it be? I could have stayed there under that tree forever and pondered such things. But eventually the trance must be broken.

Laura called us over to the beach to watch a rainbow, yes a rainbow, across the water. We sipped hot tea and ate scones and chatted about what we observed and how we felt. We exchanged our little bottles of essential oils as if the whole experience could be bottled up which felt a little silly. I felt a lightness that lingered for many days and if I close my eyes and focus on each sense, I can grasp just a bit of that lightness again.

Shinrin-yoku is like a bridge. By opening our senses, it bridges the gap between us and the natural world.

Dr. Qing Li, Forest Bathing

Forest Bathing

by Dr. Qing Li

Forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, was developed in Japan as a way to reduce anxiety, stress and blood pressure, strengthen the immune system, and improve cardiovascular function in the body. Dr. Qing Li is a doctor and chairman of the Japanese Society for forest medicine. He does a fantastic job of explaining the science as well as the steps to take to receive the benefits of the forest on the body. Forest bathing is an accessible way to connect with nature, even in the city or in the home and this book is essential to learn this important practice.

Non-Fiction // Published: 2018 // My Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

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Read :: A beautiful poem by my friend Rebecca inspired by our outing

Watch :: Forest Bathing, A Simple Yet Powerful Nature Meditation

Try :: Take the POMS test before and after forest bathing to see how your mood is elevated

Go :: Best Places in the US to Try Forest Bathing

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1 year ago: Mushroom Hunting (The Mushroom Hunters w/ Langdon Cook)

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Frankenstein

Halloween is my absolute favorite time of year. This year I wanted to share what I consider one of the best books of all time with the group, Frankenstein. I ambitiously chose an eight mile round trip hike to the ghost town of Monte Cristo before I knew that I would need to bring my 3 year-old daugther, Evie, along. I’ve hiked the trail several times before, but many trails I’ve hiked over the years are starting to converge in my brain. I could have sworn that the trail was a super flat and wide old road the whole way and that the big river crossing was at the end of the trail. I brought Evie’s stroller knowing that pushing her would be the only way I could move her eight miles and return before dark.

I met our group at the trailhead, stressed about the hike. Evie charmed them all with her “ballerina witch” costume as I preemptively and profusely apologized for bringing her and the stroller. If the others were worried they didn’t show it. They told me not to worry and Mala sweetly insisted on pushing the stroller. As usual, it soon became clear that my recall of the trail was off.

The trail was briefly flat like I remembered until it narrowed and climbed up away from the crumbling river bank. The trail follows the old road to Monte Cristo, a boom town that thrived during the gold rush of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. It boasted a population of 2,000 people at its peak with saloons, mercantiles, a post office and a barber shop along its main street. Later it became a tourist destination with a lodge that attracted many visitors until it burned down in 1983 and the town fell into abandon.

A train ran from Monte Cristo to Everett in its boom times and the corridor between the two was notorious for damage caused by flooding. The railway evolved into a road and then later into a trail as the Stillaguamish carved its way through the hillsides. It was not surprising to see that the trail had been redirected further up the bank. I found a picture I took of the trail in 2008 with rusty railroad tracks suspended midair over an eroded bank. Either that section is gone or the trail is now routed above it.

Needless to say, getting my toddler through the rugged terrain and across the river (the river crossing was much earlier on the trail than I remembered) was a challenge. My amazing book club friends (including Rebecca’s dad and daughter) didn’t even bat an eye as they got into formation and made an assembly line across the strands of the braided river and creeks. We passed the stroller and then my kiddo across and then helped each other to the opposite bank.

The river level was quite low, but I’m positive a few of them had soaked feet and never complained about it. We took a break on the rocky sandbar mid-braid and had a snack while we took in the first views of the stunning mountain scenery topped with a layer of fresh fall powder. I was happy to call our trip here and just play and chat in this gorgeous spot, but the rest of the group was determined to see the ghost town. I told them it would be a long hike with Evie but they were all up for it. We crossed over an existing bridge on the far fork of the river and continued on.

Photo: Sulina Rodriguez

I soon abandoned the stroller in the trees and let Evie walk the uneven terrain with her good hiking pal, Sulina. I carried her a bit and Rebecca carried her on her shoulders for a long time. Sulina asked to use my camera and I obliged, happy to see her in her element. After what felt like a very long journey, we finally approached the old wooden ‘Monte Cristo’ sign leading us to the town site.

We then split up to take in the sights. There are still several structures standing and an old rusty train turntable on wheels that still works. High peaks loom over it all, dusted in a fresh blanket of snow. I chose this hike because I couldn’t think of a better place for Frankenstein’s monster to hide out if he so happened to be in the Cascades rather than the Alps.

  • Photo: Sulina Rodriguez

Modern portrayals of Frankenstein’s monster (Victor Frankenstein is actually the name of the scientist who creates him) are much different than in the book. Yes, he is still a monster in the book and Victor is terrified of him, but he is intelligent and curious as well. After invoking fear into all of those who laid eyes upon him, he retreats to a structure in the woods next to a cottage. He doesn’t understand why others are so scared of him based on his appearance alone, but when he sees himself in a pool of water he understands their disgust.

He silently takes care of the family in the cottage by gathering wood for them and learns to speak, read and write while observing the family, unknown to them. When he finally reveals himself to the blind father of the family, he is hopeful he will be able to befriend them. The rest of the family returns and in horror drives the monster away. He returns to his creator and demands that he create a companion for him. When Victor refuses and there is no hope for the monster to be happy, he sets off on a rampage to make Victor’s life miserable. The monster’s behaviors are unsavory, but I have great empathy for him – he just wanted a friend.

Mary Shelley’s gothic novel is rooted in the scenic beauty of Europe and is said to be written based on her many travels. The idea for the book was famously thought up over a bet to create the best horror story during a ‘year with no summer’ with her pals at Lake Geneva (the same bet that spurred another classic, Dracula). Even the name Frankenstein is thought to come from the German castle of the same name that she traveled nearby and most likely saw looming above her.

You may be forgiven for classifying the book as science fiction or horror, but it actually reads quite like an adventure travel book. Part of the story is told in epistolary form from the perspective of a captain on an expedition to the North Pole. Another perspective is of Victor’s who chases his monster through gorgeous wilderness, bent on killing his shameful creation. The last perspective is of the monster as he toils with himself becoming the uncivilized terror that everyone expects him to be.

Dear mountains! My own beautiful lake! How do you welcome your wanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?“

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Victor Frankenstein when returning to his home, Lake Geneva)

Back in Monte Cristo, we gathered together and ate our much deserved lunches. Rebecca heated up water for us all and we enjoyed some tea and cocoa. Evie sipped her cocoa from her favorite pink fox mug. We didn’t linger as it was getting late in the day and we still had a long trip ahead of us back to the trailhead. But even in the short time I couldn’t help but be grateful for these amazing friends with me. These are friends who don’t simply expect me to be a trip organizer, but who extend grace and kindness when I need help.

I love Frankenstein so much because it is a reminder that we are all human and that every soul deserves to have love and friendship, no matter what they look like or where they are from. It is also a reminder that our actions matter. Just like the kind actions of my friends on this day filled my heart with gratitude and love, the opposite is true as well. Anger, bigotry, and racism only fuels violence and hate just as the terrified reactions to the monster made him turn into a terrifying monster. As I am writing this many months later in the depths of a worldwide pandemic and after days of unrest in America’s cities because of another unwarranted killing of a black man by police, it is more important than ever to remember this. Let’s be kind to each other.

What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious expedition? And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be called forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death surrounded it, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking.”

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Captain Walton)

Frankenstein

by Mary Shelley

This classic gothic novel tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a horrific being through unorthodox methods. The curious and intelligent monster does not understand why everyone is so terrified of him until he sees himself in a pool of water. Ashamed, he flees to the woods and hides from the world. He learns to read and write while he silently helps and protects a nearby family. When he approaches the blind father, he thinks he may have finally found a friend who is not influenced by his appearance. When the rest of the family returns in terror, however, he is again driven away. Lonely and confused, he begs his creator to make him a companion. Victor, anguished by the creation of one monster refuses to do so again. The monster then turns on his creator and banishes himself to the far reaches of the land while Victor follows him determined to kill his own creation in revenge.

Fiction (Classic) // Published: 1818 // Ashley’s Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

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  • Frankenstein was written by Mary Shelley when she was just 18 years old and was based on many places she had visited.
  • There is a Frankenstein Castle in Germany that Mary is known to have traveled nearby in her journeys. It is rumored that a man who was born there dabbled in alchemy and did experiments with dead bodies. There is not much to back this story up, but I do still love it.
  • Mary didn’t make up the idea of electricity sparking life on her own. She was inspired by Galvanism, a concept that was developed in the late 18th century after a scientist used an electric current to make a frog’s leg twitch.

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Thru-hiking Will Break Your Heart

In September we planned to try a little thru-hiking to go along with our book selection Thru-hiking Will Break Your Heart by Carrot Quinn, a memoir about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. The PCT is easy to access from Seattle and we had plans to hike from Snoqualmie Pass to Lake Valhalla for an overnight. We were excited to encounter some thru-hikers on their way to Canada. Mother nature had different plans, though, and the weather report warned of heavy rain in Seattle and the first big snowfall of the season in the mountains.

Rather than get rained and snowed on, our ever flexible group changed plans at the last minute and headed to Baker Lake instead. We all assumed it would still be rainy and stormy, but everyone was in good spirits and eager to get out for a backpack. We were especially excited to take Sulina, our member Rebecca’s 8-year-old daughter, on her first ever backpack! We bundled up at the trailhead and started on the trail through the gorgeously foggy forest.

Quickly we realized that a trail race was happening as several runners passed us. It was annoying at first to get the whole group to move aside but the runners were nice and polite and we soon started cheering them on with high fives and shouting, you’re doing great! We were hoping to be cheering on thru-hikers this weekend, but this was the next best thing!

We detoured off the main trail to check out the camping area at Anderson Point. The trees opened up to milky blue glacial water and we even got great views of Mount Baker across the lake. We scoped out some nice campsites and spotted what we thought may be lobster mushrooms. As we were getting ready to move along we came upon a female solo backpacker and struck up conversation with her. She quickly became our new friend Sue and she asked if she could camp near us. We obliged and looked forward to meeting up with her later.

As we hiked, there were times when the wind would gust from the lake and shower leaves on us. We thought that the storm would roll in any minute, but minutes later the sun would poke through the clouds. I love these kind of days between the seasons.

photos by Sulina R.

We found the Maple Grove campsite and decided to camp there. It has two(!) bathrooms, plenty of camping spots and a nice big beach with a dock and a spectacular view of Mount Baker. We left a note for Sue on a massive yellow maple leaf to let her know we were camping there, which felt like a real thru-hikery thing to do. As we put up our tents, we noticed a pair of hammocks and an interesting fire setup nearby. We lingered to the beach at our leisure and to inspect our neighbors a bit.

We snacked on unhealthy snacks as an homage to Carrot, took naps, read, and generally lapped in the luxury of nothing to do all day. I was worried our youngest of the group would get bored, but she was perfectly content reading her Harry Potter book (the fourth one- I know you are wondering) and combing the beach. She asked me several questions about my DSLR camera and I showed her how to use it. It was like putting a camera into little hands that were made for it. She quickly disappeared, finding all kinds of things to photograph. When she came to show me her shots I was very impressed. She has quite an eye for photos, and dang, there is nothing more hopeful and inspiring than to see the world from the eyes of an 8-year-old.

We had been giving our manly camp neighbors, seemingly shipwrecked and now living out of their kayaks and hammocks, the side eye all day as they kept their campfire going under what appeared to be a cauldron hanging witch-style from tree branches circled teepee style above. Next to it was a growing pile of empty beer cans. We watched them chop wood and they offered us beers. We politely refused and kept to ourselves.

Later, one of them came over to us with another offering. It was a thick juicy hunk of steak wrapped in a homemade tortilla. Our jaws dropped and we all looked at each other with widened eyes as Brenda took it. Red juice dripped as she took a bite and her eyes rolled back in her head out of pure joy. She passed it around so everyone could have a bite. It was probably the best steak I have ever had. They must have been slow roasting it all day long. They also came back later to give us more. It was the BEST kind of trail magic.

Sue found us and joined in on our book talk. Then we had even more visitors. A fleet of canoes carrying Boy Scouts made landfall by the dock. They swarmed the beach like ants carrying gear to the campsites and then returned for more. They were polite but mostly ignored us and we couldn’t help but listen as they struggled to assemble and cook a massive pan of lasagna which subsequently burned into a dark blob of cheese and noodle. One kid shook his head as he walked down to the beach and poured a packet of uncooked oatmeal into his mouth. We didn’t tell them about the steak.

Finally after the excitement of the day, the sun sank behind Mount Baker and the air felt suddenly cooler. We watched the few clouds turn orange and then pink as the sky darkened. We retired to our tents unlike the boys who stayed up late stoking the fire and being regular loud prepubescent boys. I was glad I had my earplugs.

The next morning we gathered on the beach again for tea and breakfast. The scouts were quick to get up and get going in the canoes. Again they were ants now carrying gear in the reverse direction. We waved and wished them luck as they pushed off. Sulina took a photo of the group and then we packed up to head back to the cars.

Our trip was not exactly like Carrot’s PCT hike in the book. We didn’t hike many miles, we didn’t have the worries that come with a long journey like hers, but we did find some parallels. What often makes these overnight hikes interesting is the people you meet along the way. We certainly encountered many interesting folks on our trip and we even got to experience a little bit of delicious trail magic.

Thruhiking Will Break Your Heart

by Carrot Quinn

In 2013, Carrot Quinn was addicted to the internet. She felt herself falling into a pattern of being an observer in life and not a participant. On a whim, after discovering the world of long-distance hiking online, she decided to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail 2600 miles from Mexico to Canada. Like any thru-hiker she had her fair share of trials on the trail, but what most stands out in this memoir is the relationships she made on the way. She makes new friends, some of which she keeps track of through the trail registers, and others that just seemingly disappear after they leave the trail or adjust their pace. Carrot also conveys the sense of emptiness and depression that frequently follow a thru-hike like hers. She does not shy away. She finds that staying on the trails is essential for her and that is what she has been doing since.

Non-fiction (Memoir) // Published: 2015 // My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

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The Long Path to Wisdom

In August we celebrated our beloved book club member, Mala, and her Burmese heritage. Mala first joined the book club at our camping outing last July at Mount Rainier. We had just met her but she immediately took over Laura’s camp cooking and took care of us like we were her own. If you know Mala, you know that she is up for anything and will take on any challenge that we plan for the book club. But mostly you will know her for her endless compassion and gratitude.

We chose to read The Long Path to Wisdom, a book of collected fairy tales set in Burma and spent the day at Laura’s cabin. We started, though, with a leisurely walk around Gold Creek Pond. The first thing we noticed was an abundance of goldenrod, the rich color of turmeric. The clear pond reflected the blue of the sky and the surrounding mountains.

We returned to the cabin and got a firsthand lesson of Burma from Mala. She showed us some videos of her favorite places to visit including the natural wonder of Golden Rock, a huge boulder perched on the precipice of a cliff. A tiny golden pagoda was built on top in some kind of unimaginable feat.

In true Mala fashion, we feasted on Burmese food that she made for us. The first was an “everything” salad, where pretty much anything is chopped up into tiny pieces and mixed with delicious spices and a little fish sauce. The base is caramelized onions which filled the cabin with a comforting smell and cilantro and turmeric brightened it up. Delicious!

Next we talked about the folk tales in the book while savoring our next course of Burmese chicken noodle soup. The stories in the book felt familiar, similar to stories we’ve heard growing up like Cinderella, Paul Bunyan and even biblical stories like Noah’s flood and David vs Goliath. But these stories featured elephants, monkeys, tigers, and Banyan trees. The author points out though, that though the characters may be different, these stories carry the same themes of folk tales from around the world: Love. Faith. Greed. Trust. Betrayal. Forgiveness

One thing is certain: The following pages represent a journey into another world, a world sometimes alien, sometimes quite familiar. As authors we have learned from this project that – all cultural and historical differences aside, all exoticism and foreigness notwithstanding – there is much more binding people of the world together than keeping them apart.

Jan-Philipp Senker, The Long Path to Wisdom (Preface)

Laura, Mala and I read our favorite stories out loud. Mala told us about growing up in Burma. She recalled her mother making special food for the monks as they would come around for their alms. She told us how the Burmese people are very superstitious and find meaning in everything, including the day of the week you were born. She even had a book to look up what day of the week you were born on. We patiently waited for her to tell us which animal we were and what it meant.

I have to say that when I started the book club I never imagined doing something like this. It was so much fun to learn about Mala’s cultural upbringing and to get a little slice of her life. I am so proud of our group and their willingness to read and learn and be open and welcoming to everyone. I feel so lucky to have these women in my life.

The Long Path to Wisdom by Jan-Philipp Sendker

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On Trails

I was worried when I arrived at the trailhead. For one, I was running super late (nothing new there) and what was normally an insanely gorgeous view from the parking lot was completely obscured by fog. Our group was unfazed and cheery as always. As we started walking, our view was narrowed to the trail and the trees just around us. We stirred up some grouse and they exchanged deep staccato bellows that made someone ask what the heck that was. We stopped to inspect spider webs. What was regularly invisible was now illuminated in silver mist. Someone suggested that we call ourselves the Cloud Hikers and I had flashbacks to our hike in the clouds last year.

We were on our July book club outing to one of my very favorite places, Cascade Pass in the North Cascades. Our book of the month was On Trails, a philosophical journey through the history of trails all over the world, from the very tiny trail of one of life’s first travelers 565 million years ago, to a modern extension of the Appalachian Trail that spans the world and everything in between. The author pays special attention to Native American trails and searches for the remains of an old Cherokee trail. The problem in finding old Native American trails, he says, is that they are so efficient and effective that they have evolved into roads. Cascade Pass is one such trail heavily traveled by indigenous people for at least 10,000 years. It was commonly traveled from the east side up the Stehekin River valley, the river name itself meaning “the way through.”

For many indigenous people, trails were not just a means of travel; they were the veins and arteries of culture.

Robert Moor, On Trails

In the early 1920’s, the state of Washington contracted the Cascade Wagon Road from Marblemount over Cascade Pass to Twisp. During the road’s construction, a group called the Cascade Pass Pilgrims (from both the east and west sides), gathered at the pass for camping and speeches to promote the building of the wagon road. But after the stock market crash of 1929, funds for the road were rescinded and construction was halted. In the 1930’s, the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) maintained the road and made improvements before the Forest Service and Washington Highway Department officially abandoned it in 1940.

The idea of building a road over the pass was revisited many times, but never materialized. Instead, the current trail was built to the pass and over to the east side to meet up with an existing mining road from Stehekin to Horseshoe Basin. Soon after the trail construction, in 1968, the North Cascades National Park was formed and Cascade Pass was preserved. Since the 1980’s, significant archeological sites have been found at the pass including a particularly spectacular unearthing of a 9600 year old cooking hearth. Scientists now think that contrary to popular belief, people my have lived here and spent more time here than just passing through.

It is impossible to fully appreciate the value of a trail until you have been forced to walk through the wilderness without one.

Robert Moor, On Trails

Back on the trail, Brenda wanted to show us something she noticed on a previous hike on this trail. The book mentions how people can’t tolerate being on a trail where they can hear water, but can’t see it. Brenda stopped us and we could hear the water. Sure enough, there was a little footpath up a large boulder with a view of a waterfall. We all took turns to climb up and spy the cascade. While we took our water break, the fog began to disperse giving us peek-a-boo views of the dramatic and glaciated mountains across the valley from us.

We rose with the fog and found ourselves rising above the treeline as the clouds rose above the mountains. Pink heather and sitka valerian blanketed the meadows. We stopped to identify other flowers- monkey flower, columbine, spirea. Up ahead, Brenda and Kirstin were stopped and looking at something with binoculars. As the rest of us approached, they pointed out a marmot doing its marmot thing above us on a rock. We watched for a while and saw little baby marmot heads popping up over the heather. Baby marmots! We gushed over them and pointed them out to others walking by.

While we continued our climb, I noticed a distinct chill to the air. It felt more like an autumn day than a July one. We spotted pika in the rocks as we approached a lingering patch of snow on the steep, narrow, trail. I was worried that some of the group may not be comfortable crossing on the snow, but we all supported and helped each other across. I was so proud of the group! Not much farther, though, and we had a scare of the furry kind.

It was marmots! Yes, more marmots. But these marmots were right on the trail and had zero interest in yielding to us. They were busy gnawing on something in the trail dirt and couldn’t be bothered to budge. As we got closer to them, instead of scurrying away like normal marmots, they ran toward us! Kim walked with her hiking poles out in self defense as we finally passed them. This was clearly their territory and they were clearly not afraid of us in the least.

The attacking marmots were our last hurdle to the pass. There we shed our packs and got out our snacks. Brenda shared her favorite pastry she picked up on the way to the trailhead, and we passed around a fancy chocolate bar to share. We talked about the book and I slipped on my dad’s fuzzy sweater for warmth and comfort. We chatted with some climbers who just came down from Mix-up Peak. They pointed up to it. “That one,” they said, “next to Magic Mountain.” From where we were, one could be convinced that not many people have been here, or to the tops of the mountains around our heads. It feels so remote and wild here, and yet the dirt that we stood on was packed down by thousands, maybe tens of thousands of feet before us?

The trail had taught me that good designs – like old-age tools and classic folk tales – are trail-wise. They fulfill a common need by balancing efficiency, flexibility, and durability. They streamline. They self-reinforce. They bend but do not break. So much of our built environment, by comparison, seemed terribly, perilously inelegant.

Robert Moor, On Trails

A trail is a beautiful thing. Trails allow us to reach places that would not seem possible otherwise. The mind can focus on other things while the body simply follows, not having to choose a direction or make a decision, the trail does it for us and keeps us safe.

Ironically, I feel closer to humanity in this wild place than I do in the highly populated city. Not just closer to my book club pals and the other hikers on the trail that day, but to our ancestors and to the Okanagan Nation who claim this area as their traditional territory. The ones who made the trail a little better with each foot step.

photo courtesy of Mala Giri

I now see the earth as the collaborative artwork of trillions of sculptors, large and small. Sheep, humans, elephants, ants: each of us alters the world in our passage. When we build hives or nests, mud huts or concrete towers, we re-sculpt the contours of the planet. When we eat, we convert living matter into waste. And when we walk, we create trails. The question we must ask ourselves in not whether we should shape the earth, but how.

Robert Moor, On Trails
photo courtesy Mala Giri
On Trails by Robert Moor

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Book Club

The Nature Fix

As we gathered at the trailhead before setting out on our backpack adventure, I encouraged everyone to take time to look, feel and smell as we walk. I told them to pay attention to how the wind feels on your skin, listen to the birds. I told them that I love them all, but I am a true introvert and being social drains my energy. Being alone is what really fuels me. I know I’m not the only one. I told them to take time for themselves if they need it – and lets all respect each other’s needs.

We were embarking on a session of nature immersion for the weekend with an overnight backpack trip to Ingalls Creek. Our June book club pick, The Nature Fix, highlights research that shows the benefits of being in the woods. It’s amazing that you only need to be outside about 5 hours a month to reap the benefits: lower heart rate, lower stress levels, lower blood pressure, heightened cognitive ability, and even increased empathy for others. We were putting the research to the test. From the beginning of the hike, I could immediately tell this one was different. We all slowed down, we stopped to take more photos, we inspected and smelled flowers and trees.

The trail wanders along the creek and was teeming with a rainbow of wildflowers. We spied the usual orange of the tiger lily, red of the columbine and paintbrush, pink of the wild roses, along with some more unusual sightings: white Cat’s Ears, yellow paintbrush, blue penstemon, and the elusive Mountain Lady’s Slipper. It was my first sighting of the delicate orchid and we all squeezed together on the trail for a look.

As we progressed on the trail, we noticed that the flora was changing. The beginning of the trail traversed an old burn, still recovering with sun-loving plants dominating. Later we entered a more mature forest with huge ponderosa pine trees. We gave them hugs and smelled them. We discussed the best way to go about it and decided that it was to find a tree exposed to the sun and then get your nose into the deepest fissure in the bark you can find. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Ponderosa pines have the delightful scent of the most luxurious vanilla you’ve ever smelled. Brenda told me it reminds her of creme brulee. We immediately got hungry and proceeded to plot a way to bring and/or make backcountry creme brulee.

We found a large camping spot in the trees to fit our group and set up camp. Some of the group continued up the trail a ways for lunch. Others stayed and cooked up lunch and made some tea at the campsite. For Mala, who we lovingly call our trail mama, this backpacking trip was a first. She went out and bought all new backpacking gear (she willingly commits to anything the book club does) and when we showed her our camp stoves and cookware she cracked up at how tiny it all was. She is used to cooking in large batches, whether for her family or while taking over our book club camp meals, and said she felt like a kid playing with cooking toys. She giggled the whole way through each meal and it made all of us smile.

Laura and I lazed along the riverside for a while and caught up on life. While we chatted a butterfly came to visit me. It sat on the rock beside me for a long time, giving me a sense of ease and comfort. I studied its colors and patterns. The others made their way down to the riverside as well. There we sat for a long time. We talked, napped, read, with no agenda, no expectations. Brenda studied for an upcoming statistics exam, one she was worried about passing (later she told us that she aced her exam and chalked it up to our nature fix). As the sun tracked above our heads and grew warmer, we all dipped our toes into the chill of the snow-fed creek.

As dinner time was nearing, I went and gathered some things around the forest and had everyone sit in a circle. I told them to pick an item- moss, sticks, pine cones, etc. I had them describe what they noticed during our hike on the trail and what they noticed about their items as they studied them. I welcomed everyone to take off their shoes and put their feet in the dirt (it felt so good!) for grounding and we did a short meditation together. Closing our eyes, relaxing our bodies, being in the moment.

We cooked our dinners (with Mala chuckles) and had our book discussion. One of the things that struck most of the group was that its not just adults who need to get into nature more, but our kids. Its hard to argue that time outside helps kids to focus and keeps them active and healthy. I especially enjoyed the chapters toward the end that talk about how being outside increases our sense of community and purpose in the world. And how just listening to birdsong, whether outside or through your headphones, gives us a sense of calm and peace. Birds only sing when they are safe and when all is right in the world.

I felt compelled, though, to share that I don’t think that nature is a “fix” for everyone. No one should feel that being outside will magically solve all of life’s problems. I prefer to call it the nature “assist.” Being outside can help to reduce anxiety and depression, but I don’t believe that it should replace medication and most importantly, no one should feel bad about themselves if nature is not a “fix” for them.

After dinner Laura got out her gorgeous Tarot cards and did readings for us. Laura and I shared our fascination with Tarot a while back and decided we should do readings while backpacking. I thought we might scare off our book club members, but everyone was pretty into it. After that we filtered off to bed. Rebecca and I lingered for a bit. She wasn’t tired and she didn’t have a book to read, her phone was dead, and we didn’t have any paper for her to write or draw. I smirked a little and gave her a challenge to just relax and enjoy being in the woods.

The next morning as we made breakfast and tea, Rebecca showed us the mountain that she whittled out of wood. My jaw dropped. She showed us all of the little things she made out of wood while we slept. They were beautiful and we passed them around and took photos. I turned to her, “you’re not the kind of person who can easily relax are you?” She replied, “no, definitely not.” We laughed. I guess some of us need a longer nature fix than others.

photo courtesy of Mala Giri
The Nature Fix by Florence Williams

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Eating Dirt

It’s become a book club tradition to spend a day working with Washington Trails Association to give back and lend a hand to our beloved trails. This year we helped build a new trail at Little Mountain. We gathered at the trailhead, greeted by the knocks of woodpeckers and the smiles of our crew. Barbara, our crew leader for the day, gave us a safety briefing and explained what we would be working on.

The trail was aptly named the Upquick Trail. Barbara took us down the lovely new switchbacks to try out the old trail on the way back up. We got up quick alright. The trail went straight up the steep hillside. They started working on the new trail in October and now it just needed some final touches like some rock walls to help retain soil and prevent erosion. I’ve wondered how they make those nice neat rock walls on the trails, now we were about to find out.

The key to the rock wall is the zip line. A pulley system allowed us to move massive rocks down the steep trail most efficiently. I was super stoked to hear we were working a zip line, and this wasn’t just a simple zip line like I’ve done before, but a legit zip line that went straight down the mountain side. This was a task that required great care and coordination.

We paired our work party with Eating Dirt, a memoir of a tree planter. Like most jobs in the outdoors, tree planting is not a glamorous one. They spend entire days hunched over digging holes and planting little seedlings as fast as possible. They were getting paid by the tree and it was grueling work. The way that Gill describes her experience, though, is right on and exactly how I feel after a work party. It’s hard work, but it can be addictive in a strange way that makes you keep coming back for more.

During our lunch break, we discussed some of the hardest jobs we’ve had. Jamie has spent a lot of time working in the outdoors studying fish and really related to the last part of the book when the tree planters live on a boat off Vancouver Island. Rebecca told us how she spent a summer in Alaska working in a cannery for college money. She said it was incredibly humbling. We all decided that it’s good to have those types of work experiences when you are young: humbling hard work.

By the end of the day we had transported a large pile of boulders down the mountain. It was more fun and exciting than hard and humbling, but it certainly gave us perspective on how much work, effort, and love goes into maintaining our Washington trails. While we celebrated our accomplishments for the day, we found out that one of the “orange hats” that was with us, Pete, had recently logged over 2000 work hours with WTA in his lifetime! He even self-published a guide to building trails that many of us happily bought and got signed by him. Then we headed to Skagit River Brewery for a celebratory meal to finish off our day of working in the woods.

There was something alluring, addictive even, about the job. I liked the feel of loam between my fingers, loved the look of a freshly planted tree bristling up from tamped soil. Planting trees was a whole, complete task. You could finish what you started in just a few seconds. You could sow a field in a day. It meant being outside, unprotected from the elements, but at least weather affected everyone equally. Best of all, in a cut block you could erase your old self. You could disappear almost completely.

Charlotte Gill, Eating Dirt
Eating Dirt by Charlotte Gill

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The Light Between Oceans

I’ve been wanting to visit a lighthouse with the book club for a while now, so in April we finally did it. We didn’t go to just any lighthouse, but particularly one on an island. Our book pick was The Light Between Oceans about a young couple who lives in a lighthouse on an island all to themselves. We ferried our way north to San Juan Island for a weekend of exploring, camping, and lighthouse visiting.

I brought my husband and daughter this time and Evie relished in the cold, salty wind of the Salish Sea on the deck of the ferry boat. She ran circles around the inside passenger area and made some new pint-sized friends. I was happy to greet some of the book club members and we got caught up as we soaked up the views.

Upon landing in Friday Harbor, we decided to head directly to the charming little Griffin Bay Bookstore. We could have spent all day in there browsing the books, but we tore ourselves away to visit the Farmers Market and get some grub. We packed up our food and books and headed out to English Camp for a picnic. It was a perfectly comfortable spring day and after our lunch we all unceremoniously lined up and laid down in the grass.

We lounged and chatted for a long while and then decided to head to the campground to get set up for the night. While we drove, we found an adorable alpaca farm and just had to stop. Evie loved the alpacas and we touched everything in the gift store with an “ahhh.” We met the rest of our group at the San Juan County Campground and lingered on the shoreline nearby after setting up camp. We made sweet potato tacos from the Feast by Firelight camp cookbook. They were SO GOOD. They were also super easy and this is definitely my new go-to camp recipe.

Rebecca brought her daughter who is seven years old. She shared her fuzzy slippers with Evie rendering the two girls inseparable. After dinner, we headed back down towards the shore for sunset. Evie painted watercolors with her new BFF and I brought out a special dessert surprise. It was an applesauce cake, an old favorite family recipe of mine, glazed and lit up with candles for my BFF, Laura’s, birthday. We sang to her and indulged in the cake while sipping wine and watching the gorgeous sunset.

Soon the darkness brought a chill to the air and we snuggled up with blankets around the campfire for our book chat. In the book, the lightkeeper and his wife find a washed up boat with a man and a baby inside. They discovered the man was dead, but the baby was still alive. After a recent miscarriage that was preceded by many before, the young woman decides to keep the baby as their own without telling anyone. Her husband, a law-abiding man, was deeply conflicted with the decision his wife made.

As you can imagine, there is little room for this story to end well. While the plot is heartbreaking, I really enjoyed the sense of living on a secluded island as a lightkeeper. San Juan Island is tiny, but it still holds the largest town of all the San Juans with enough to easily fill up our day with activities. It was hard to imagine being in their shoes, the only people for miles and miles.

For the first time he took in the scale of the view. Hundreds of feet above sea level, he was mesmerized by the drop to the ocean crashing against the cliffs directly below. The water sloshed like white paint, milky-thick, the foam occasionally scraped off long enough to reveal a deep blue undercoat. At the other end of the island, a row of immense boulders created a break against the surf and left the water inside it as calm as a bath. He had the impression he was hanging from the sky, not rising from the earth. Very slowly, he turned a full circle, taking in the nothingness of it all. It seemed his lungs could never be large enough to breathe in this much air, his eyes could never see this much space, nor could he hear the full extent of the rolling, roaring ocean. For the briefest moment, he had no edges.

M.L. Stedman, The Light Between Oceans

The next day we headed to Lime Kiln State Park to visit its lighthouse which dates back to 1919. A short loop trail takes you up to several old and deteriorating lime kilns from the 1920’s. This must have been a busy place back in the day. Evie picked up the green rocks and inspected them as we explored the kilns.

Evie walked all by herself most of the way with her new friend. When she tired and wanted me to hold her, fellow book club member Mala carefully chose a stick and gave it to her to use as a walking stick. Evie’s face lit up and she charged down the trail with her new stick. Mala’s wise motherly gesture was greatly appreciated. Evie even acquired a second stick that transformed her into a little hiking machine.

The trail traversed a spectacular forest with massive old growth madrona trees, the largest I’ve ever seen. The girls climbed on them and posed for pictures, happy as little clams. Soon we were at the end of the loop trail and near the lighthouse. It wasn’t open that day (tours run from mid-May to mid-September) but we poked around a bit.

We wandered along the shore and found a nice spot to share lunch. We lingered lazily and spotted a sea otter and a seal. Rebecca and I picked our way down the rocks to some tide pools with our girls. They loved bending over and getting their faces down close to the water. The longer we looked, the more life we found: anemones, urchins, hermit crabs, gooseneck mussels.

After much exploration we headed back to Friday Harbor to get our spots for the ferry boats. We met one last time for coffee (or tea), a bite, and one last little pop-in to the bookstore before making the long journey home.

The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

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Shell Games

It was hard not to wonder what was out there, or even who was out there. The book club met on a cool February morning at Bowman Bay, a wide, protected and inviting bay, a place that seemed to beg for underwater exploration. We watched some folks out in a boat and couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. What exactly were they up to?

Our sudden skepticism stemmed from reading our February book club pick, Shell Games. The author, Craig Welch, is a journalist who took a deep dive into the underworld of the seafood industry of the Puget Sound. For two years, he followed the local wildlife police as they pursued poachers of a funny little (or maybe I should say not so little) mollusk, the geoduck.

When I announced Shell Games as our February pick, I asked in our Facebook group if anyone had ever eaten geoduck. I learned that most of the locals in the group never had it. Some said they never would, most said they would try it if they had the chance. I also learned that Speedy the geoduck is the Evergreen State College mascot which has got to be up there with the strangest school mascots.

The sheltered marine waters of the Pacific Northwest are the only place on earth where wild geoducks grow in great size and quantity. And the mollusk was riding a tidal wave of globalization. The geoduck’s escalating popularity abroad tracked the rise of a new wildlife underground- and an evolution in mankind’s ability to exploit nature. In the booming international market for fresh seafood the geoduck had become a path to quick profits. And smart smugglers always followed the money.

Craig Welch, Shell Games

The group skirted the bay on the way to Rosario Head. The trail was lined in mossy green and madrona trees until we reached the headlands. There, the way opened up with views of the Puget Sound all around. We paused at the gorgeous wooden carving of “The Maiden of Deception Pass” and read her story.

The Samish people once lived where we stood. They gathered shellfish on the water’s edge, fished from their wooden boats, and pulled camas bulbs for eating. One day, the maiden and her sister were gathering chitons. She was startled and dropped a chiton in the water. When she went to reach for it, a hand grabbed her and she heard a man’s voice telling her about his house in the water filled with food and about life with the sea people.

This happened again and again until the maiden pulled her hand away and asked to see the man. He emerged from the water and joined her for dinner with her father (like ya do). He told her father that his daughter was beautiful and he wanted to take her back to live with him. He was hesitant about the stranger and was sure the maiden would not survive in the sea. He challenged the sea man and refused to let his daughter go.

The sea man finally relented, but not without warning. He said his people have always been kind to them, but if he went home alone, the tide would no longer go out, they will find nothing on the beach, and the springs will run dry. Eventually, after a long, hard, and fruitless time, she goes to him. Once the sacrifice is made, the sea people continue to provide for the Samish people. The maiden returns bearing gifts of shellfish of all kinds. Each time her hair gets a little longer and resembles seaweed.

This story of mutual respect between the Samish and the sea reflects how we should be living: not taking more than we need, always giving back and taking care of our home waters. The stories told in Shell Games reflect a different culture, one of cheating the land and taking as much as possible. Reading this book was a great reminder that we should be more like the Samish.

We ate our lunch and then wandered the shoreline investigating the life on the rocks. We even found a chiton thanks to Jamie, our very own marine biologist. They completely blended into the surroundings. I wondered how they tasted…

Photo courtesy of Mala Giri

Shell Games by Craig Welch

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