Leaf: It's What's For Dinner

I’ve written before about Becoming an Outdoors Woman – the program offered through the New York State DEC that teaches women outdoor skills (see: Fish Tales). As someone who can’t find my way out of a paper bag even when I’m holding a compass that reads “This way out of the paper bag,” I look for any available opportunity to fill the considerable gaps in my knowledge of all things outdoors. So when the program affectionately known as BOW rolled around again, I eagerly jumped in my car and headed off to beautiful Silver Bay on Lake George.

First up on Friday afternoon: a class called Essential Edibles, which promised to teach me about the five essential edibles I’d need to know if I ever became lost in the woods. The five categories are root, stem, bark, flower/berry, and leaf, so you can imagine how my mouth was watering before the class even got started.

This class seemed tailor-made for me because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being hungry. And since fending off bear can work up quite an appetite, I was anxious to know what I could eat in the woods once my supply of Luna bars ran out. Following a brief introduction, during which we were assured there was enough food outdoors feed us forever, the instructor asked us to go around the room and share with our classmates all the things we already knew we could eat in the wild. Women began rattling off long lists of twiggy and leafy-sounding things that would make only Euell Gibbons drool. When it was my turn, I didn’t have much to share (apparently Hershey Kisses aren’t considered “wild,” even if you find one in the bag that doesn’t have foil on it) so it got pretty quiet in the classroom. Well, there was the sound of crickets chirping (I’m not sure if they’re edible).

Then we went outside to rustle up some grub (Mmmm, grubs – are they edible?). After about 30 minutes of being shown various leaves, grasses, flowers and roots, I came to the realization that “edible” doesn’t necessarily mean things you’d want to eat. It simply means anything that won’t actually kill you. I decided to go out on a limb (get it?) and sample many of these verdant delicacies while I was under the supervision of an expert in the field (get it?).

 What do these things taste like, you ask? Well, you know how when people describe what different meats taste like they always say it tastes like chicken? (rabbit tastes like chicken, frog legs taste like chicken, roadkill tastes like chicken, you get the idea). It’s the same way with green stuff – only instead of tasting like chicken, they all taste like leaves. A maple leaf tastes remarkably like a leaf, plantain tastes like an incredibly bitter leaf. Milkweed – you guessed it – just like a leaf. Ditto for a yellow birch leaf. Some people claimed they had a wintergreen taste, but I swear they were eating TicTacs. Since I hadn’t keeled over yet, all these leaves, while not exactly tasty, did fit the class’s definition of “edible.”

By now I’d worked up a real craving for something that was not green. Since this was a class called Essential Edibles, I knew we’d eventually come around to talking about the most essential edible of all and began searching for a chocolate tree. I didn’t find a tree with chocolate but I did find a lovely pile of Raisinets on the ground.  Someone stopped me before I could see if they were edible, saying they’d been left there by a deer. (I wonder if he knows he has a hole in his backpack?)

Although I learned a lot in this class (I have a new-found respect for weeds) the most important thing I learned is that if you’re planning on hiking into the woods remember to bring along plenty of actual food and be sure to stay within walking distance of a grocery store. When the class ended, it was time to head to the dining hall. I didn’t care what was for dinner, as long as it tasted like chicken.

Don't think of this as a gardening eyesore, think of it as a salad bar.

That's me, on the far right, wondering if I'm standing on my dinner.

The Latest Scoop on the Appalachian Trail

Those of you who know me know I’m not a fan of hiking. Although hiking is basically just walking, it’s usually done outdoors (so hiking from one end of the mall to the other doesn’t count) and the very word “outdoors” precludes any possibility of “indoor” plumbing. To make matters worse, hiking is often done in the woods, and we know what lives there:

People who are really hardcore about hiking aren’t content just hiking, say, a hundred yards or so, either. They like to go really far, as in Appalachian Trail far. That’s 2,175 miles far, which is a lot of hundred yards, but don’t ask me to do the math. Thru-hikers (those who complete the trail in one season) have plenty of time to do those calculations in their heads during the hike.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail (AT) would require a lot of conditioning and training. That, and the whole outdoor, in the woods, math issue, not to mention that the Adirondack Mountains aren’t a part of the AT, made me pretty confident I would never attempt such a hike. That is, until I learned about the ice cream.

Turns out, there’s a challenge among AT hikers when they reach the trail’s midpoint in the Pine Grove Furnace State Park in Gardners, Pennsylvania. There’s a general store at the park that sells half gallons of Hershey’s ice cream and hikers purchase the flavor of their choice and attempt to eat it at one sitting. I may not have what it takes to thru-hike the AT, but who knew I’ve been training and conditioning myself for the half-gallon challenge for years.

One hiker reported feeling “heavy and lethargic” after finishing her half-gallon of cherry jubilee. Yeah, well heavy and lethargic is a way of life for some of us. AT hikers may have me beat when it comes to the hiking endurance part, but as far as the half-gallon challenge goes, I could take them with one spoon tied behind my back. Another hiker, who goes by the trail name “Jukebox,” finished his mint chocolate chip in 40 minutes and moaned, “I’m gonna die, bro.” I can only assume that he means die of embarrassment that it took him a whopping 40 minutes o finish it off. And “Lemur,” who chose chocolate, reported, “Two months on the trail, and this is one of the worst days.” Seriously? After spending approximately 60 showerless days in the wilderness, sleeping in lean-tos and eating only what he could carry in his backpack, sitting down to eat some chocolate ice cream qualified as his worst day. I think “Lemur” needs to get some perspective.

Hiker “Bearbait” said, “I don’t know what is harder – eating a half gallon of ice cream or hiking a trail.” Okay, it seems pretty clear to me which would be harder. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised by her lack of certainty on this issue, given her lack of good judgment in picking the trail name “Bearbait.”

All this talk of ice cream is enough to tempt me to adopt the trail name “Blister Magnet” and take to the AT myself. Better yet, maybe I could start an Adirondack half-gallon challenge somewhere along the Northville-Placid Trail. Or best of all, I’ll just drive to Lake George and eat an ice cream cone at Martha’s every day during the month of July. Oh wait. If it’s something you’d normally do anyways, I guess it doesn’t qualify as a challenge. Never mind.

Hudson River Whitewater: A Potential Raft of Trouble

Free. It’s hard to beat a price like that. At least that’s what I told myself at the Adirondack Adventure Festival when I signed up for a free raft ride on the Hudson River, courtesy of Beaver Brook Outfitters. The lawyer in me paused a wee bit when they handed me a lengthy release form. But then I thought – these days you practically have to sign a waiver to do everything from opening the mail (paper cuts) to playing miniature golf (faulty windmill blades). So, I figured what the heck and signed my name on the dotted line. The friendly people at the registration table told me to come back at 2:00, and in the meantime suggested I check out the white water derby. That was a mistake.

You see, the Adirondack Adventure Festival is the same weekend as the Hudson River Whitewater Derby (yes, that Hudson River). Taking place in the towns of North River, North Creek and Riparius (that sounds like a Latin word – it probably translates to the expletive you utter when you get a good look at the whitewater) New York, it features slalom and downriver races. And the water was pretty white, thanks to this year’s generous snowmelt along with heavy rains during the month of April. In fact, this area of the river was flooded only two weeks earlier.

I joined the many spectators to watch people in kayaks and canoes attempt to navigate through the gates in the slalom race. I tried not to think about the fact that I’d signed up for a (free) raft ride in the same river or the fact that the water temperature was probably only 40° F. But the churning water was mesmerizing, so I did what I always do when I want to take my mind off something – I ate lunch.

Afterwards I considered backing out of the raft trip – it wasn’t like I’d be out any money. There are some nice stores along Main Street in North Creek, and since many of them were having sidewalk sales, shopping technically qualified as an outdoor activity.

But at 2:00 I ended up at the Beaver Brook Outfitters van being fitted with a life jacket and helmet. The guides checked our helmets and tightened the straps on the life vests so many times that I can only conclude that the key to whitewater survival is not being able to breathe while looking like a dork. Then we all piled in the van and drove to the launch site.

I tried to remain calm while they explained the safety instructions. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, but I could swear they said “when you fall in” not “if you fall in.” Anyways, if you do fall in, you’re supposed to flail about helplessly while screaming your head off. No wait, that’s what I planned to do if I hit the water. You’re supposed to flip onto your back and go downstream feet first until they throw you a rope and pull you in (screaming your head off is optional).

Then we were introduced to our river guides. I was put into the raft led by Nate (river name “Newt”) and Shane (river name “Insane-o” – so you can see how my confidence was building at this point), both students in SUNY Adirondack’s Adventure Sports program. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one of these rafts, but I’d always assumed the inflated bars going across the boat were comfy benches. Not so. We were instructed to wedge our feet under the bars and sit on the edge of the raft (which seemed to increase the likelihood that I would fall out).

My raft, along with a second raft, finally set off downriver accompanied by a kayaker named Tim (I figure his river name is “draws the short straw” because his job was pretty cold and wet). The trip was uneventful – the two young girls in the front of the raft got splashed a couple of times – and we saw some beautiful scenery along the way. At one point I did notice that my feet were numb, but that was because I had them wedged so hard under the benches that I'd cut off my circulation.

Eventually we reached the North Creek train station and Nate and Shane brought the raft up along the shore. Now I was faced with my most difficult challenge: exiting the raft gracefully. Once on land the blood flow returned to my toes. And with the life vest off, I was literally able to breathe easier. I’d definitely do it again.