Rain poured steadily from the low grey sky, dripping insidiously off the tips of cedar boughs and sword ferns. The water trickled between flat piles of soggy yellow alder leaves, and pooled on the edges of the gravel trail that faded up into the misty Chuckanuts. The boys, bundled in rubber boots and raincoats, were ready to trek into the sandstone mountains. It was raining and pouring, and we were ready to go exploring!
In Explorer’s Club, we love games that we can play on the go - trail games. One of our favorites is called “Hide!”, and we took every opportunity along the trail to pause for a round or two. If you don’t already know how to play, ask your explorer to tell you the rules.
As we got higher into the wet fog, the whole forest seemed to glow green. Bright green moss crawled up dusty grey trees, and one boy noticed a familiar plant poking out from the spongy moss mats: Licorice Fern. This is a plant whose rhizome (a type of root) contains an especially high concentration of sugary starch and, you guessed it, a licorice-like flavor. Historically, indigenous peoples in the Northwest would snack on this easily-accessible root as a quick pick-me-up on the go. It could also be dried and ground into a flour-like powder and used for baking. We encourage our explorers to use all their senses when we are observing the forest, and taste is an extra special one. But it’s also the sense that we have to be most discerning with when learning about new plants - our first priority is safety. After an adult mentor positively identified an edible plant, we talked about harvesting ethics, and how we place limits on our collection of resources to ensure its sustainability.
With water falling from the sky, it was no surprise that we found a tumbling waterfall just a bit further up the trail. The boys learned some lessons about risk management, after we asked them not to climb over wet rocks… but when a kid is wrapped in waterproof gear, sometimes they want to test its limits. We practiced our engineering skills below the waterfall by constructing a small dam (and removing it afterward to let the stream flow naturally), and then put our rain gear to the ultimate test of crawling through a rushing culvert. No one was hurt, but everyone walked away with a better understanding of risk vs reward and thoughtful decision making based on current conditions and individual preparedness.
Further down the trail we had a conversation about “playing with honor” when one player of “Hide!” was revealed by his fellow explorers (he was standing right behind me, moving as I turned, and I actually didn’t notice until his fellows laughed and pointed him out). He might have set a BEC Hide measure record!
Down the switchback trails, and we were back at the big Arroyo bridge. Dozens of people flanked the bridge, watching the salmon fight their way up the rapids. The boys learned how to observe this natural wonder without disturbing the fish, and we connected the experience to our service outing, where we were restoring habitat along Connelly Creek in order to help bring back the salmon runs there. Just around the corner of the trail, a large downed tree has created an exceptional natural stream crossing, and we crossed the emerald-carpeted bridge to our lunch spot.
After lunch, we climbed up the hill behind the log bridge. Our rainboots eroded chunks from the soil, and we connected again to our participation in environmental stewardship and restoration. We have an impact on the land while we live on it, and so we work actively to reduce our impact and create a sustainable, resilient earth.
We ended the day with an epic game of Spider’s Web, and of course the closing circle of gratitude. The boys shared one thing they were grateful for, and one thing they had learned about camouflage. Ask your explorer how they used some strategies of camouflage: stay low, go slow (and silent), break up your outline, interpose terrain between you and the person seeking you, and stay alert yourself. After our final apple snack, we tromped back down to the gravel lot and towards our warm, dry homes.
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