What happened to the folks who participated in the hike down Nicholson Hollow in the seminar?  Not, “Where did they go?”, but, “How did they change?”  For some of them the seminar was their first experience of wilderness, and they experienced it under excellent guidance;  not guidance, “Here is where the trail goes.”, but guidance, “Slow down and be your own observer.”  We all received the tools and opportunities to observe – really observe wilderness and the myriad of magnificent life that exists there.

Our seminar guides were NPS Ranger Laura Buchheit, NPS Ranger Linda Manka, and special guest Bob Tope.  Together, with a well-planned agenda, they would help the participants learn how to speak for the wilderness.  After an hour or so in a meeting room to familiarize us with the day ahead, we climbed in vans and rode along Skyline Drive to the Trailhead.  We then spent the rest of the day hiking down Nicholson Hollow Trail, stopping frequently to record what we had observed and to share our observations with the others.  Every learning opportunity became far more productive than anyone anticipated.

We were shown stinging nettle plants so that we could avoid the burning pain it can cause our skin.  We observed a parasite vine growing around and up the stinging nettle, choking it out.  Then we learned about jewelweed, another easily found plant here, that could ease the discomfort of accidentally brushing your skin against stinging nettle.

We stopped to learn what we could from scat deposited on the trail.  What creature passed here?  How long ago was it here?  While discussing that, we saw an interesting spider on a small rock in the trail, and a katydid on a bush nearby.  We might not have noticed either critter if we kept walking past the scat. We might not have noticed the critters if we had not been guided to think like Darwin, and to observe all around us like Lewis & Clark.

This type of learning went on for six miles of hiking through wilderness.  There are no roads, telephone poles or other modernizations of civilization.  There is just nature and the remnant details of the settlers that once lived here.  Nature is winning over the remnants.

Even though we sometimes walked for a mile or more without stopping, it was not until we had adapted to noticing how marvelous nature is.  The further we went through the wilderness, the more it became part of the fabric of our souls.  Even those of us who had much experience in wild places found new things that had always been there for us to notice, but we used to pass by them while marching on.

On this trek, I noticed that there was a piece of decaying wood about the size of a deck of cards.  The wood had a strange grey-green color to it as if someone had stained it.  I picked it up and asked if anyone know what caused the color, not natural for the inner wood of any tree I knew about.  As I held it out someone observed, “There is a fungus growing out of this end with surfaces that same color.”  I had looked at the other end that did not display the small rounded ear-like petals growing out of the wood.  Someone else knew that a fungus caused the grey-green color in the wood, but had never seen the actual fungus.  We all learned. At every stop, we all learned, sometimes we shared our learning, sometimes we just absorbed.

At the end of the all day hike, the guides asked us to express how the event had affected us.  I turned out that we each had a near religious experience.  The learning, sharing, and absorbing of wilderness had created a bond between us.  Now is the interesting part.  Even our guides, who had scouted out the trail, pre-hiked it, and planned our stops and learning exercises, felt a similar impact.

Two of the folks, new to wilderness, independently wrote down, and then shared their thoughts.  They said it would be a calamity to humankind, if their great, great, great grandchildren would not have opportunity to feel the same experience, to walk in wilderness.

We may not have all started the day as avid defenders of wilderness preservation, but by the end of the day, we were all staunch supporters of ensuring such places always exist … always.

We had a half hour ride in vans back to our cars so we could return to our normal lives.  The hike took an hour and a half longer than planned, so it we go back to the cars long after most people’s dinnertime, yet we all spent another half hour at the cars continuing to talk with each other about the hike and wilderness and the bond we felt for each other.

If we were tourists in a bus that stopped at an overlook on Skyline Drive … if we were told to look down into that great bowl thousands of feet below us and miles across … if we were told, “That is Nicholson Hollow consisting of xx square miles of wilderness.”, we would have said, “OK”, or “That’s neat.”  However, it would not have been part of the fabric of our souls.

Save the Wilderness.

 

                          -- Bob Kuhns