These Times

The Hiking Project: A project in progress

Kirk Ericson | Oct 17, 20240

Courtesy of Claudia Suastegui count

Manny and mom, with Goldsborough Creek in the background.

Manny, an 11-year-old Mason County resident, was focused on his phone Saturday while longtime county resident Rob Wilson-Hoss briefed a gathering of 10 people on what was ahead on the trail, a roughly 2-mile hike that tracks Goldsborough Creek just west of downtown Shelton.

As the narration continued, Manny took a position nearer his mother, leaning against her back and his arm slung over her shoulder so his cellphone screen could be visible in the shade provided by mom's head. It was 70 degrees and sunny, the type of October day that carries little trace of winter to come, and Manny was intent on maintaining his screen.

Meanwhile, a 5-year-old named Nolan was on his knees, in another world, while he gathered little sticks near his mom, stashing them in the front pockets of his jeans. His mom told me that Nolan told her he was gathering "dinosaur bones."

Manny and Nolan seemed distinct examples of kids today - and how we imagine yesteryear's kids - and of the barriers to getting people off their screens and outside for more primal pursuits, like collecting dinosaur bones.

Saturday's hike was the fourth hike in The Hiking Project, a new and evolving effort started by Wilson-Hoss to encourage people to discover the advantages of being outside, especially this county's outside.

"We have this really great resource here in Mason County - trails, lakes, Hood Canal, mountains - and that's all potential for residents who might like it, if we can just open the doors for them," Wilson-Hoss said.

The primary focus is on youngsters.

"The fundamental issue is kids want to be in front of screens, and a lot of them had to do that during COVID," he said. "COVID took away the social interaction of school and replaced that with a screen. A lot of families are fighting those screen battles."

In an email, Wilson-Hoss wrote, "We are aiming at creating a program that lowers barriers for new hikers, and especially for families with kids."

I caught up with Manny five minutes after we started the hike. His phone wasn't in his hands anymore and his head was scanning as he stood near the creek's edge.

"What are you doing?" I asked Manny.

"Just paying attention to the trees," he said.

Wilson-Hoss has been talking with the senior director of the Shelton Family YMCA, Claudia Suastegui, about this walking project because The Hiking Project's intentions are in sync with the Y's efforts to help people pursue life-sustaining activities.

"We need to have the compassion and passion to get people outside," Suastegui told me as we started our hike. "Access is often the biggest barrier, but the outdoors in Shelton is right here and it's free."

Suastegui likes being outside. Her partner showed me a photo of the two of them atop Mount Storm King in the Olympics, with Lake Crescent posing in the background. She appeared barefoot in the photo and the two of them appeared as happy as happy can be.

Suastegui is in the midst of getting a certificate in "forest therapy," a practice designed to ease the ills of modernity. Some people call it "forest bathing."

"I immerse myself in forest therapy," she said. "We need to appreciate the trees from a mental health standpoint. You open the door and Mother Nature does the work."

I caught up with Manny again. He stood a few feet from the edge of Goldsborough Creek, mesmerized by something.

"Look at the patterns," he told me.

I didn't understand. I thought he said "potteries." I looked at the creek bed and didn't see pottery.

"What?" I asked.

"The patterns," he said. "The patterns."

Oh. I lifted my gaze from the creek bed and became aware of the patterns on the water, fluid geometric patterns rippling. We continued staring at the patterns for a while.

These analog experiences happen when you hike. I've experienced the big-ticket items on hikes - the vistas, the valiant old-growth trees, the profound silence - but it's the small tickets that animate me.

Last week, during a 10-mile hike on the Skokomish Lower South Fork Trail, I found two slugs in my left front pants pocket. The first one I extracted was the size of a thumbnail. After returning the slug to the forest floor, I reached into my pocket again and extracted another slug, this one smaller. That one I flicked onto the forest floor.

I was not repulsed by finding slugs in my pockets, which seems an unusual response to slugs in one's pocket. Instead, I was amused. And I didn't even think of washing the slug slime off my hands with the hand sanitizer I keep in my backpack.

But I should have thought to return those two snails to the same spot on the forest floor. They might have been kith or kin.

I caught up with Manny again on the trail, near the end of our hike, and his phone was back in his hands.

"What are you doing, Manny?"

"I'm taking a video," he said, "to show my sisters."

When we returned to the trailhead after our 90-minute hike, I asked Manny what he thought of what he'd just done.

He took a couple of steps forward, facing the creek, opening his arms wide like he was addressing an audience from stage front. With a countenance far removed from his phone face, he exclaimed:

"Nature!"

The Hiking Project

If you want to receive emails from Rob Wilson-Hoss about future hikes or if you have ideas for The Hiking Project, email [email protected]. I'll send the messages to Rob. The next hike is scheduled to start at 2 p.m. on Nov. 3 at Oakland Bay Preserve.