12
may 2021
THE COMET
A weekday hike by nick carlo
I
t is a beautiful summer’s day in the lovely foothills of the Cascade Mountains. I step onto the trail, like so many times before. The clay dust, mixed with the pollen of the season, wafts up to greet my nose with a sneeze pushed on by the sudden warmth of the Sun. The sky is clear but for a few streamers of cirrus clouds that streak across the stratos. I start the climb. Near my ankles, tufts of yarrow line my path. I ask if I may take a nibble: a bitter astringency. A dynamic herb, with variable actions, yarrow has long been a staple of the indigenous medicine cabinet. The energy of yarrow is generally considered to be one of boundary protection. As such one of the herb’s primary uses is a topical application to external wounds. However, if ingested it also helps to stem cases of internal bleeding. Additionally, it is frequently taken in cases of fever as it is a natural antiseptic and analgesic. As I move along, with the feeling of protection from my furry friend, I notice a strange variety of ball head water-leaf, a tasty green, akin to spinach if boiled down well enough. Am I welcome to harvest? I listen for a response. It’s hard to tell. Perhaps another day. Vetches seem to slither across the sloped earth, tasting the air with a flick of their petaled tongue. I make my way up the hillside, the ponderosa and lodgepole pines become ever more sparse, making way for the gnarled twists of juniper and sagebrush. Great spurts of spurge show off the full potential of water efficient succulents in this fairly arid terrain. Even at this height, the Arrowleaf Balsamroot flourishes its bright sunflowers across the hillside. Between the bunches of spear-like leaves, varieties of Biscuit-
PHOTO BY SARAH SIMS
root intersperse themselves across the ecosystem. The Balsam and Biscuitroots too have a rich history of indigious usage. The roots can be dried, cooked and ground down into a type of flour that would last through the winter when other botanical foodstuffs can become scarce. Additionally these roots have strong antiviral properties, making them a survivalist staple in this near desert landscape. As I near the end of my hike, my eyes turn to the airy expanse rising around me. Pairs of crows catch updraughts along the hillside in a way that makes me think that even crows, as urban as they are, still enjoy playing in the freedom of the open sky. Higher up however, adolescent bald eagles, still donning their speckled brown plumage, proudly glide, keeping watch over the valley. At this point the full experience of this valley hillside is open to me. The wind is strong up at this height. A lone ponderosa stands tall. The running slopes are watercolored with lupines each a different color than the last. The hill sways in an ethereal mist of floral blues and violets, punctuated by the bright starry yellows of the Arrowleaf resonating, storing, and reflecting the flood of Solar energy, raining down upon the valley. A small town sits, down and embanked on the snowmelt-swollen river, like the rocky center of an ancient lake bed. All around it, as if marking out the formerly submerged nutrient rich soil, acres and acres of fruit trees now flood the valley. To the north, mysterious rock formations jut ominously out of the hillside and beyond them the high peaks of the cascades look down on my perch, their icy caps shimmering as they slowly melt into the waters sparkling just a short hike down the hill. C
