Morels are typically known as a Spring Mushroom, a time when very few other woodland mushrooms are fruiting.  There are many different species of true Morels in the genus Morchella.  Each can behave differently within different ecosystems, elevations, and weather patterns. Different species have affiliations with different trees and types of forest.  They come in a variety of colors- white, yellow, gray, black- and some change color as they mature.  Don’t get hung up on scientific names, as they often change as comparisons to other specimens are made, especially now that DNA analysis is more practical.  In the current landscape of the internet, you should be able to figure out which species are local to you, and their timing.  Join a local Mycological Society, a Facebook group, or simply do an internet search for “Morel Progression Maps”.  Typically, Morels need a consistent soil temp of ~50F to fruit.  You can stick a thermometer in the ground, or you could also learn to recognize signals from plants nearby.

Indicator Species

Learn environmental indicators for your region.  For starters, when folks near you are posting Morel pictures on social media, scan the photos for other plants growing nearby.  What trees are leafed out, what plants are sprouting and what flowers are blooming?  For example, in the the Colorado Rockies I often find Black Morels near blooming Calypso Orchids, Arnica, and young Woodland Pinedrops.  All these organisms are responding to temperature and moisture, so timing can vary slightly year to year. 

Identification

Buy a field guide for your area.  Do not rely on Mushroom Identification phone apps.  Here are my 3 favorites for the western US:

-Mushrooms Demystified by David Arora (covers all of North America, but especially Pacific Coast)

-All That the Rain Promises and More: A Hip Pocket Guide to Western Mushrooms by David Arora

-Mushrooms of the Rocky Mountain Region by Vera Stucky Evenson

True vs False. 

Learn how to recognize the “true” Morels in the genus Morchella from the closely related “false” Morels.  The caps of “true” Morels, have a netted or honey comb shape of defined ridges and deep pits.  They can be round to conical in shape. The stem connects to the base of the cap, or very close to it, and the entire mushroom is completely hollow. 

Verpa species may have similar ridges, but when sliced in half it is apparent that the stem and cap connect way up under the skirt. This mushroom makes some people ill and I do not eat it.

Typically referred to as “false” Morels, Gyromitra species have more irregular wrinkled caps, without deep pits or defined ridges.  Some Gyromitras contain toxins and I don’t advise eating them, though some people do. 

Ethics and Respect

Tread lightly in nature- Avoid trampling all the fresh green plants sprouting.  You are seeking a gift from nature, so don’t destroy the ecosystem.  I try to step on rocks and logs whenever possible, as a way to minimize my impact on the soil. 

Leave No Trace- Pack it in, pack it out.  Pick up other trash if you have room in your pack. 

Do not trespass on private property without permission.  If you’re brave, ask permission.  It is your responsibility to know and respect property boundaries.  

Many parks and public lands do not allow foraging, or may require permits, so be sure to know the rules.

Respect other people’s “secret spots”.  If someone kindly shows you their spot, even if it is on public land, it is not cool to go back and harvest there without their permission.  Learn to recognize that type of habitat and look for your own “secret spot” elsewhere.  In some areas, mushroom hunting is extremely competitive, even dangerous if you stumble upon an aggressive hunter.  Be aware and be careful.

Avoid over-harvesting.  This amazing fungus is recycling nutrients back into the food chain.  Yes, you are part of the food chain, but leave some for the critters.  Older soggy mushrooms, or ones with bad spots will spoil quickly in your bag anyway.  Try not to harvest more than you can eat, share or dehydrate.    

Leave the little ones.  Let them mature and spread their spores.  If you are able, come back in a few days and harvest when they’re bigger.  Or if you’re in a popular area, leave them for other hunters to find.  Perhaps they’ll follow suit and leave you some next time.

Cover the evidence.  After harvesting a mushroom, I like to brush organic matter back over the spot.  This helps hold in moisture and may benefit the Morel mycelial body underground.  Plus, if other hunters find a cut stem and see your success, they will try to beat you to it next time. 

Basic Tools

A knife.  Doesn’t need to be very big for Morel harvesting.

A breathable basket or bag- paper or cloth.  NOT PLASTIC.

Protection from the elements… sun, rain, ticks, MOSQUITOES

Compass and maps.  Tell someone where you’re going and when you’ll be back.  Mark GPS coordinates of your car.  Put your keys somewhere safe.  I have heard numerous stories of foragers losing their keys in the woods.

The game

Even when you’re in the right place at the right time, you’ll need Morel vision to spot these camouflaged little tricksters.  Your eyeballs will become trained to the pattern recognition.  Don’t get discouraged if everyone else is finding them, and you just can’t see them.  It could help if you study pictures of Morels before going out.  This pattern needs to be ingrained in your subconscious.  As you scan the forest floor, you’ll surely be fooled by leaves, pinecones, sticks and rocks.  That’s a good sign that your brain is focusing in on shapes and patterns, and you will learn very quickly.  I like to scan the ground 5-15 feet around me, close enough to see the honeycomb pattern and far enough to recognize their dome silhouette above the leaf litter.   Getting on your hands and knees is an advantageous perspective.  For whatever reason, they are harder to spot while directly above them, and sadly many get stepped on.  Once you see one Morel, stop and look around.  It’s likely there are more, and you may already be in the middle of a patch. 

Harvest Method

There will always be an ongoing debate about whether to cut the mushroom off at the ground or pluck the whole base out of the ground.  I don’t think it matters either way. The underground mycelium is not harmed either way.  I like to cut level with the ground and cover the spot with debris. 

Cleaning

In some environments your Morels will be free of grit.  However, often you’ll be harvesting in sand, mud, and burnt debris.  Your knife tip can be used to scrap it off.  A toothbrush often works well.  Sometimes I can blow it off with a burst of breath.  Clean them as well as possible before putting into your bag.  Or use one bag for good clean specimens and another bag for ones needing to be cleaned later.  Just before cooking, I soak them in a bowl of water with a pinch of salt, then lightly swish and rinse.  Too much water for too long will make your mushrooms soggy. If they are as sandy as this one pictured, I leave it for nature. Chewing rocks ruins the culinary Morchella experience.

Insects may be nibbling away from the outside, or inside of your mushroom.  It’s a good idea to slice your mushroom in half before cooking.  If a slug or roly-poly slips into your dish… bonus protein! 

Eating

Always cook your mushrooms!  Even with true Morel species, some people have allergies or adverse digestive reactions.  As with any new mushroom being introduced into your system, eat only a small amount, and wait 24 hours before eating a full meal of them. 

I am not an exciting cook, so you’ll have to seek recipes elsewhere.  99% of the time I cut them up, sauté in olive oil with garlic, and scramble into eggs and/or serve with quinoa. 

Still sounds fun?

So many rules and bugs… and you still want to go mushroom hunting?  When you find your first Morels, you will understand what the excitement is all about!  And if you don’t find them, remember that it’s about the journey, not the destination.  Enjoy your time in nature!

The post Morel Foraging Tips and Ethics appeared first on Mushroom Troubadour.

A couple decades later, the call of the mushroom has finally come through to the Vogeler family, and I have finally just experienced my first ever Missouri Morel hunt!  I have hunted Morels in the Rocky Mountains, but it is a different ball game depending on what region you’re in, and which species of Morels are present.  Here are my observations and tips for anyone interested in learning more about hunting Yellow Morels in the Missouri Ozarks.  (Basic Morel hunting 101 will be covered in a future article, including ethics, gear, and identification info.)

When? 

Based on various Morel observation maps around the internet, Missouri Morels typically fruit late March to May, when the soil temps have warmed to ~50F and sufficient rainfall has occurred.  This warmup usually occurs in the lower elevations first.  I was hunting in the elevated Ozark Mountains, ~1,000ft, during April 16-21, 2021, and the Morels were fresh and young.  On 4/20 we were hit with two frosty nights below 30F and several inches of heavy snow.  The Morels were clearly succumbing to bacteria and bugs after the snow.  If warmer conditions stabilize, they may continue fruiting for a few weeks, or they may not.  Many macro and micro environmental factors are at play and every year will be different. 

Environmental Signals

It is beneficial to look around and learn cues from the forest.  Many trees and plants were flowering at the same time I found Morels popping… Red buds, Dogwood, Trillium, Spring Beauty.  Mayapples were in various stages of sprouting and some were budding.  Fern fiddleheads were emerging.  I remember spending so many springs in Missouri observing these blooms and harvesting edible plants.  How did I never notice these weird Morel mushrooms hiding among them?!

Where? 

All I know is from my small window of observation with Yellow Morels at 1,000ft elevation, so this is not exclusive.  I found them in leaf littered creek bottoms and along rocky ravines, facing south and east.  They were in diverse mixed forests, so it was hard to identify which tree species were their partner/host.  Oak, Hickory, Sycamore, and Eastern Red Cedar were usually nearby.  And strange to me, these trees seemed healthy and alive, whereas in Colorado I would only find Morels around dead and dying trees.  Here I did have good luck in areas where vines were climbing through the trees, perhaps the beginning of a slow death.  But many of the Morel patches gave me no rhyme or reason as to why here and not over there.  I found most growing solitary (sometimes they grow in clusters), usually with other singles fruiting within 10 feet.

Local look-alikes

Learn how to identify “False Morels”.  I found an impressive giant specimen which I believe is Gyromitra caroliniana.  There are several toxic Gyromitra species and I do not recommend eating them, even though some people do.  They have wrinkled caps, without deep pits and distinct ridges that characterize “true” Morels.  They come in a variety of colors, as do the Morels.

Other edible fungi

While Jelly Mushrooms are not my first-choice edibles, they are edible and plentiful.  I noticed Witch’s Butter and Wood Ear growing on many dead logs.  See my previous blog post about being lost in Oregon and eating raw Witch’s Butter.

Missouri forest safety

Missouri is full of uncomfortable obstacles… ticks, chiggers, poison ivy, and poisonous snakes are emerging in the spring.  I personally don’t like to use bug spray on my body, so I bank on protective clothing.  High boots, long pants, long sleeves, and a hat will help minimize contact.  Be aware of where you put your hands, and you may want to use a walking stick to poke around.  Snakes can hide under the leaves as easily as a Morel can.  We saw one poisonous Copperhead snake this week, luckily before the dogs did.  If you have a canine companion, keep them safe too with some sort of tick/flea collar or repellant made for dogs.  It’s a good idea to rinse yourself and your dog in a creek at the end of the day to minimize ticks, chiggers, and poison ivy oils being brought into the house, car, or tent.

Eating your bounty

Always cook your Morels, do not eat them raw.  I am not a fancy cook, so have fun experimenting with recipes.  I usually slice my mushrooms and sauté with veggies, and/or scramble with eggs, served with quinoa or rice.  If I know of other edible plants around, I love to throw them into the mix.  This week I also harvested Watercress greens, Fern fiddleheads, and Spring Beauty roots.

Good luck and happy hunting!  I hope this article can help lead you to Yellow Morels in the Missouri Ozarks. If you don’t find any Morels, remember that it’s about the journey, not the destination.  You’ll never learn where and when if you don’t get out and look.  Enjoy your time in nature!

The post First Time Hunting Yellow Morels in the Missouri Ozarks appeared first on Mushroom Troubadour.

(Disclaimer: Do not consume any wild mushroom without proper identification by an expert!)  

Arrival

The ocean is finally in view after a stressfully long 3-day drive through snowstorms across Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and eastern Oregon.  I have gloriously arrived in Florence on the Pacific Northwest coast.  I am planning to camp at Carl Washburne State Park, as I usually do when I come to Oregon for November mushroom hunting.  It is the only campground around that stays open all winter with first-come-first-serve tent sites.  I am in a rental car so before I lose cell service, I remember to text my mom a photo of the license plate.  It’s always a good idea to let someone know where you are going, when you’ll be back and what you’re driving.  I am cruising the scenic 101 north, smiling big and celebrating my arrival into a mushroom hunter’s paradise. 

As I arrive at the campground, a sign on the locked gate reads: “Campground closed due to COVID Pandemic”.  I didn’t see that mentioned when I had checked the website but considering the pandemic and last summer’s wildfires, I should’ve verified that the campground would be open.  All good, I am familiar with some nearby National Forest road systems. But considering the steep coastal terrain, pull offs for car camping are scarce.  I have one hour until sunset, no time to waste. 

I turn from the coast onto the unpaved 10 Mile Creek Road.  As the name suggests, the road follows a creek 10 miles up to its headwaters.  The first couple pull offs are already occupied by campers, so I push onward, racing the dim foggy daylight.  10 miles up I finally reach a flat spot big enough to park and pitch a tent.  A wave of relief rushes through.  It is already 4:45pm, the exact time of sunset, but the fog is too dense to even detect which way is west.  I know I have about 10 minutes of light, enough time to let my dog run and see if I can find just one mushroom to cook up for dinner.  With excitement, I chase Stardog up an old trail leaving the car with the windows down, keys on the hood, and still wearing my travel clothes. I am passing all sorts of fungal diversity which I could try to identify in the morning, but nothing I know to be edible. 

There’s a mossy patch above the trail, one last spot to look.  I count 20 steps off trail to the moss.  Quick circle, no bright yellow Chanterelles, no more daylight.

Denial

20 steps to the trail, and a 5 minute walk to the car… where is the trail?  Is it too dark and the trail too small… Did I cross it already?  I don’t want to lose my sense of direction by circling back.  I know that there are 3 parallel landmarks running east/west through this ravine: my trail up top, the road within, and 10 Mile Creek below.  It’s OK, don’t waste time, I’ll just bushwhack downhill until I hit the road.  I can hear the creek, so I just need to head that way.  I notice Star’s concerned face.  My heart rate is increasing, but it’s OK, we’re not lost.  Just scramble through the thick forest faster, we only have seconds of sight left.  I slip, regretfully grabbing Devils Club for support. And then again. My clothes are ripped, my hands are bleeding, and dozens of toxic thorns are embedded in my palm.

And then a branch slaps my face knocking my glasses to the ground.  The foggy lenses were not helping my nearsightedness anyway.  I cannot locate them, and I cannot spend any more time looking.  I could come back tomorrow.  The forest is dense with organic matter in all stages of life and decay.  The darkness is getting dense.  I think I see the road ahead… no just a log.  My eyes play a couple more hopeful tricks on me… until I arrive at a creek.  But it’s not 10 mile creek, and there isn’t a road.  Just steep mossy walls of a rocky ravine.  I had just tumbled down a hill that I could not navigate back up in the dark, and I might be over a mile from my car at this point.

This has to be a close tributary to 10 Mile Creek, as I had seen several on my drive up.  Instead of staying put, I use my cell phone’s flashlight to fumble further downstream.  Carelessly, I splash my boots in the creek, because after all, I have dry shoes and clothes at the car.  I reassure Star that we are OK, but I was not convincing myself.  Did I finally screw up and get lost after dark, after so many close calls?  I need to breathe and slow down before I make my situation any worse.  With a heavy heart, I accept that we are spending the night in the woods.   

Mental Inventory

It is November in the rainforest, what do I know?  It will be windy, it will rain, and I am lucky that it is not already.  It will be a cold night, but not likely below freezing.  Probably temps in the mid 30’s.  It is likely that this creek is a tributary of 10 Mile Creek.  If not, I am 10 miles from the ocean and highway 101, so all creeks will lead there within 2 days of walking, considering the extremely rough terrain and short winter daylight.  I have made some bad mistakes already.  I am unprepared and I am already handicapped. 

Physical Inventory

My entire left hand is numb and cramping from a heavy dose of Devils Club toxin.  My glasses are gone.  I am wearing thin socks and hiking boots; thermal long underwear bottoms and quick-dry hiking pants; a cotton T shirt, a light cotton hoodie, and a thick cotton hoodie.  After sliding through wet vegetation, I am soaked from head to toe.  I have my cell phone with 74% battery but no service.  It is not even detecting compass directions, and quickly draining every time I try.  Best to keep it in Airplane Mode.  I have my wallet, a small plastic dog poo baggie, and a mushroom harvesting knife.  I could at least put my phone and wallet into the plastic baggie to keep them safer. 

And I have Stardog, my trusting companion who knows exactly where the car is.  I must remain worthy of her trust.  She is very independent, her parents were wild Rez dogs, and I am lucky she rolls with me at all.  I have learned that she will keep her distance if I get angry, upset, or intoxicated.  I am fighting the urge to release a yell of frustration, but it would surely scare her away.  She would go back to the car and leave my ass out here.  Though maybe that would be best for her, I am just being selfish.  Deeper down I know that I need to breathe slowly, remain calm and in control, for her, and for myself.  That is the only way rational decisions are going to be made, and that is the only way I am getting out of here alive.  I talk to her in a soft sweet voice, telling her that I royally fucked up this time but that I love her.

Shelter

Using my cell phone flashlight, I climb up the hill just far enough to be out of flash flood zone.  The majestic Hemlock and Sitka Spruce trees here are 20-30 feet in circumference, providing a slight sense of comfort as I offer one a hug.  Under the drooping branches of a Hemlock, lay a large decaying log leaning on the hill in a way that there is a crawl space underneath.  The ground within is relatively dry.  So, I begin collecting large decaying branches and bark from the area to create a lean-to on the exposed uphill side.

In the thick foggy darkness, my flashlight only provides a small bubble of light.  I almost lose my shelter several times while collecting supplies.  Stardog is nervously staying right with me, and as I drag a branch backward, I step on her foot.  She yelps in pain, followed by a whimper.  She is limping, and I feel ever worse for handicapping her and subjecting her to this situation.  

To finish my lean-to, I respectfully ask the Hemlock’s permission to remove a few living branches with green needles for a protective top layer.  It would not be rain proof, but it would give me a little sense security.  If nothing else, the project has occupied my mind for an hour, and raised my moral.  It is still only 6:30pm and I will not have any light for over 12 hours.  Using my cell phone, I take one dark blurry picture of my den.

Water and Food

I am extremely thirsty.  I should not trust the creek water, but I am glad it is there for Star.  I squeeze drops from my wet hoodie into my mouth… that tastes terrible.  I start licking ferns and conifer needles for little satisfaction.  Then I become aware of all the dripping moss and lichen hanging from every tree branch.  None of it is poisonous, to my knowledge, and I don’t plan on eating it.  Why not squeeze out the water?  I grip a fresh clump and try a few drops… it tastes green and earthy but not bad.  I go from branch to branch, burying my face into the green spongy masses, sucking water until quenched, incredibly grateful to have figured out such a critical element of survival.  Dehydration had snuck up on me, since I had not drunk much water all day while driving to minimize pit stops. 

Food is not a priority for me since I fast often.  But I do remember a fun survival fact about Witch’s Butter, a bright orange jelly mushroom, which I had noticed growing on branches used in my shelter.  I have heard several Mycologists mention that it is one of the only types of fungi that is relatively safe to eat raw.  It is a squishy absorbent mushroom, so it could also be a source of hydration through the night.  I cut off a few dime sized morsels and pop them in my mouth.  Just like a flavorless gummy bear.  (Note: Do not consume any wild mushroom without proper identification by an expert!)  

Now that I have spoken with the trees, consumed raw fungi, kissed the mosses and drank their water, I am feeling tuned in to the forest system.  Less of a misplaced outsider.  I am subject to the same elements of danger as every other organism out here, and my senses are vibrating with awareness.

The Long Darkness

Even though my phone’s flashlight seems to be using little battery power, I know I should conserve it.  It is time to crawl under my log in my wet cold clothes and face the long dark night.  Stardog is very confused… why are we doing this when we have such great new camping equipment in the car?  I lay in my dry trench parallel under the log and she eventually settles into a nest at my feet.

I am so tired after driving for three days, and then this exhausting evening, that I slip into an easy dream state… for about an hour.  I awaken to the sound of rainfall, shivering and having lost feeling in my toes.  It is only 8pm.  I know it’s not good to stay in wet cold clothes, but I see no alternative.  Fire is not an option.  I stretch my outer hoodie and tuck in my knees, to conserve as much heat as possible. 

For years I have been casually experimenting with various breathwork methods, specifically Tummo and Wim Hof Iceman techniques.  These practices are scientifically proven to train the body for cold tolerance, while also facilitating psychological and spiritual benefits.  Naturally, this is a time to open that inner toolbox and hope my devices are sharp enough for the job. 

(Disclaimer: Do you own research of Tummo and Wim Hof; this article is not a guide for safe breathwork practice!)  

I take a deep breath fully in through the nose, and gently let it out my mouth.  I repeat 30-40 breaths with no gaps.  Then I hold on the exhale and measure the time with no air in my lungs.  Normally I can hold for 60-120 seconds.  Then I inhale, hold for 15 seconds, and repeat the entire cycle.  Normally I would use a stopwatch to measure the my breath hold, but instead I am counting very slowly in hopes of tricking my brain into observing a quicker passage of the night.  As I repeat these cycles of breaths and holds, I try to guess when an hour has passed and when I check my clock, two whole hours have slipped by. 

Hours of this practice in the complete darkness has my mind easily detaching from the suffering of my body… my vision is illuminated with colors and lights floating among thoughts and plans for tomorrow’s escape.  At one point, I see bright flash and I jolt up thinking that someone is shining a light into my den.  It is even darker with my eyes open than closed.  I am in a breathwork induced psychedelic state. This can be powerful when focused, so I visualize a fire in my belly.  Within seconds I feel my blood running warmer.  I stoke the fire with oxygen on my inhale and spread the heat on the exhale.  

More breaths, more time passes, and I notice that my dog is shivering at my feet.  As I shift to cuddle her, I realize that my inner layers of clothing are crispy dry!  Two layers of cotton are dry… I can barely believe how warm I am.  If I can keep this up all night, I stand a good chance at staving off hypothermia.  However, my cold feet remain a concern.  I occasionally take a foot out of my wet boot, massage and wiggle it until I get a little feeling back.  I could survive with wet feet for one night, but not more.

I have kept my knife on a strap around my neck, as a useless sense of security against mountain lions or wolves.  Occasionally I hum, sing, or breathe extra loud let the forest know I am here.  I do not want to emit any vibrations of fear or weakness, which could attract a predator.  At this point, I am fairly sure I can survive the night, and still aware that my situation could get worse at any moment.  Laying in a trench under a large decomposing tree trunk, mycelium reaching out from every direction.  It feels like a noble tomb for this body, recycled into the forest without a trace.  But not today, and not tomorrow!  I am bubbling with desire to live, wrongs to right, and gifts I want to share with this world.  I am at peace with my fate, but I am not going to dwell on defeat.  I continue through the night, beaming lights of love into the darkness of my mind.  

The rain has been increasing like someone very slowly turning up the water pressure.  My shelter log has become waterlogged, and it’s dripping in down the middle.  I position my mouth under the biggest drip, tasting all the fungal compounds collected as it passes through the log.  As I can drink no more, it splashes over my head and begins to puddle under me.  I cannot just lay in this, so I will have to sit up with my neck bent under the log for the rest of the night.  It is just after midnight.

I am cramped in a terrible position for my bad back, or for proper deep breaths.  Shivers have returned.  Toes are still numb.  I keep wiggling and flexing my whole torso to avoid any crippling stiffness.  I am so tired and so cold and so uncomfortable.  I cannot blame this torture on anyone else, it’s nobody’s fault but mine.  The rain is dumping.  I keep attempting breathwork and the rest of the night creeps very slowly. 

I have had a lot of time to beat myself up over what I did wrong and visualize a plan for morning.  I would continue down this creek with high confidence it is running west.  My other option is to climb uphill and maybe catch cell service, but it seemed like more work and danger than it was worth.  I was so sure that this creek would be my quickest and safest way out. 

Morning Light

Eventually, the rain starts to soften, and patches of sky glow through the canopy.  Stardog’s dark silhouette is streaked with shimmering water droplets.  It’s go time!  I crawl out of my den, tired, but ready to move. 

Thick patches of Devils Club span in every direction.  I still have no feeling in my entire left hand from last night’s dose of toxins.  The worst thing I can imagine would be taking a thorn to the eye, considering I no longer had glasses for protection.  I must be careful and protect my face, which already took a beating.  And I worry about Star plowing headfirst through the thickets.  At certain points, the walls of the ravine are so steep and muddy that I have pull myself along using strongly rooted giant ferns above me.  My arms are tired.  My legs are already fatigued.  I occasionally allow myself to rest, but never for more than 60 seconds.  Daylight would be short.

I am passing all my favorite mushrooms: Chicken of the Woods, Chanterelles, Lobsters.  They are the reason I am here, but I must ignore them and stumble onward.  Gotta love the irony.  Each time I turn a corner hoping to see 10 Mile Creek, or the ocean, I am faced with another layer of hills and tributaries to navigate.  I may be nowhere close to getting out of this and I have no sense of distance traveled.  

The steep rushing creek is getting deeper, and I worry about Star falling in.  Several times we are forced to cross on precarious wet logs.  Suddenly my momentum stops… a union with another large creek, and we are stranded in the middle.  Without my glasses I can only see details within 10 feet, so I squint up the new creek looking for a large log to cross.  I think I spot one, and as I work my way to it… it’s a bridge!!!  And a road!!!  This is 10 mile creek!!!  I laugh, cry, and release a howl to the sky.

Home Stretch

I know from driving across this bridge yesterday that we are about 3 miles downhill from my car.  I am exhausted, but one foot after another, I begin the home stretch.  Star is in worse shape than me.  She drags behind and stops several times, laying down in the road.  I offer to come back and pick her up, but for the sake of our heart strings, I could not leave her behind.  I let her rest.  I just now realize the weight of my soaked boots and thick cotton hoodie… I must be carrying 20 extra pounds in water weight and forest debris!  I peel off my top layers and throw them to the side of the road for collection on the drive down.  I take off my boots and socks, tying them together and throwing them over my shoulder.  The fresh air on my shriveled feet feels so good. 

Tattered, torn and barefoot, we reach the rental car.  Just as I left it… windows down, keys on the hood.  My guitar case in the front seat is wet, but nothing damaged or stolen.  I pour Star a bowl of food, and grab a bag of apples, devouring 4 of them as I strip out of my wet clothes.  It is 12:30pm.  I was lost for almost 20 hours.  I crank the heat and melt into my seat as I study the map, seeing the big dumbass circle of terrain that we trekked.  Probably only 8 miles, but we would not have made it any further. 

Mother Nature has thoroughly kicked my ass into a new level of respect.  I will never wander away from the car with my guard down ever again!  With tears streaming down my face, I express my gratitude to the forest for the humbling experience. I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons about wilderness survival, physical and psychological.  My entire perspective on life has been properly renewed. As a bonus, for 24 hours the Covid-19 pandemic never once crossed my mind!

Takeaway lessons for Pacific NW Wilderness Survival:

• Tell someone your travel plans; vehicle description, where you are going, when you plan to be back in contact.
• Verify your camping plans or locate a camp before dark when possible.
• Familiarize yourself with a map of the area and terrain before you exit your vehicle.
• Know the climate and dress accordingly before you exit your vehicle.
• Don’t wander into the woods near or after dark… duh
• Always have a compass in your pocket and keep track of your reference points.
• If you get disoriented, STOP.  Especially after dark, stay put.
• Once you are lost, breathe slow, take inventory, and act rationally.
• If safely possible, hike to a high ridge for possible cell phone service or orientation.
• If you are absolutely lost, it could be a good idea to follow a waterway downstream to avoid further disorientation.  It will lead to bigger rivers, lakes, ocean, or some sign of civilization.
• Safe water can be squeezed out of fresh mosses.
• Witch’s Butter, and other jelly mushrooms can be eaten raw, but only if you are certain of its identification.  It is not worth poisoning yourself and making the situation worse.  You can survive a long time without food if you have plenty of water. 
• Practice breathwork techniques to stay calm and generate inner warmth.  Research Wim Hof and Tummo methods. 
• Think positive thoughts!  Treat yourself kindly.  It will not help to dwell on your mistake, just focus on recovering.

My wilderness survival mistakes:

• Did not verify that the campground would be open. 
• Wandered from the car in travel clothes, no compass, no water.
• Strayed from the trail at dark.
• Did not stay put sooner which got me more lost, wet, injured, and handicapped without glasses.
• Did not climb to a high ridge where I may have found cell service or orientation. 

My wilderness survival successes:

• Gave my Mom the license plate and description of my rental car.
• (Eventually) accepted that I was lost so that I could slow down, minimize injury, and think rationally.
• Stuck to one rationalized plan to avoid further disorientation, which was following one creek downstream.
• Minimized mental trauma to my dog, and myself, by keeping calm and talking tenderly.
• Made decisions based on knowledge of the weather and terrain I would be facing.
• Made a decent shelter, considering my options.
• Identified a safe source of water, squeezing from moss.
• Identified a safe source of raw food, Witch’s Butter mushroom.
• Decided the best use of my cell phone battery was for the flashlight.
• Utilized breathwork techniques for generation of warmth.
• Did not emit vibrations of fear or weakness, so as not to attract predators.
• Kept thinking positive thoughts!

The post Wilderness Survival: Lost in the Oregon Rainforest appeared first on Mushroom Troubadour.