Falling for fungi
Falling for fungi – finding a deeper connection with the forest
It is late October and it has been raining off and on the last few days. I have been itching to get out for a good hike and do some mushroom picking. As soon as the clouds start to lift, I grab my hiking polls and backpack, which is pre-packed and ready for foraging and head out with my husband on a trail about five minutes from our house.
It is beautiful. The high humidity makes the 10-degree temperature feel warm and although it is overcast, the forest seems illuminated by the brightly coloured, changing leaves.
What will we find today? I am excited by the prospect.
I took a wild mushroom workshop last fall, taught by Yarrow Willard, a highly respected expert on Vancouver Island. It was a combination of classroom instruction and a walk in the forest to identify fungi. Yarrow introduced me to the concept of forest bathing (shinrin-yoku, a Japanese practice of being present) and he talked about how the trees and fungi are intimately connected.
On a practical level, Yarrow highlighted what he called Level 1 mushrooms. They are the ones someone new to foraging like me should seek. In my first season of picking I have had the good fortune of finding many of them - lobster, chanterelles, cauliflower, coral and oyster mushrooms. At times they have been so plentiful it felt like an Easter egg hunt. Throughout the season we enjoyed eating them a couple times a week and even had extra to dry for future use.
On this day we decide to go off the main trail to see what we find. We look for open areas with large deadfall and moss. This is where the forest bathing kicks in for me. I am forced to slow down, become more observant (sight, smell, sound and gut). Being present is the only way you will be successful. My connection with the forest continues as I clean, prepare and eat the mushrooms.
We find a couple of large lobster mushrooms - meaty, sweet and bright orange like cooked lobster. We also find some new varieties. I take photos, so I can identify them when I get home. I use the book - All that the rain promises; a pocket guide to western mushrooms and the internet. It turns out we left a couple of large edible boletes on the trail. I feel a tinge of regret I didn’t pick them, but I also know there will be another day. There is no question I have fallen for fungi.
