Foraging for Shrooms

When I was 16, I attended a thrity day Outward Bound course in the rugged mountains of North Carolina (pretty much where hurricane Helene hit). My parents had enrolled me to "build character," but what I gained was an entirely new appreciation for the wilderness. Outward Bound taught me lessons I carry with me to this day: resilience, teamwork, and perhaps most importantly, the art of survival. One skill that captivated me was foraging. Under the guidance of seasoned instructors, we learned how to identify edible plants, purify water, and navigate the natural world for sustenance. It felt like stepping into the past, connecting with ancestral knowledge long forgotten by modern life.

Years later, after graduating from The Citadel, I joined the 82nd Airborne Division. During two tours of duty, survival training became a matter of enjoyment, not just an exercise. The Army's survival training programs took the principles I had learned at Outward Bound to a new level. The training was rigorous, teaching us how to find food in hostile environments, build shelter, and even trap small game. Foraging became a skill I honed out of sheer necessity. In any particular deployment, identifying the right plant or fruit could mean the difference between nourishment and poison.

One day during a field exercise, as I crouched in the underbrush examining a patch of mushrooms, I had a thought that made me pause. Mushrooms, with their alien forms and mysterious properties, have always fascinated and terrified humanity in equal measure. I wondered: how many people had to die before we figured out which ones were safe to eat? I imagined ancient foragers experimenting with the shrooms they found, some lucky enough to stumble upon a chanterelle, while others fell victim to the deadly amanita phalloides, known as the infamous death cap.

The history of mushrooms is as old as human curiosity itself. In ancient civilizations, they were revered as food for the gods, reserved for royalty or used in sacred rituals. In Asia, mushrooms like reishi and shiitake were prized for their medicinal properties, while in Europe, they became a staple of foragers' diets. But it was always a gamble. Even today, with field guides and apps, people still mistake a poisonous lookalike for an edible variety. The trial-and-error process our ancestors endured—perhaps thousands of lives lost—seems both tragic and heroic. That thought stayed with me as I carefully avoided the mushrooms before me, opting instead for a handful of wild greens I knew were safe.

Reflecting on those moments, I realized how much my journey through Outward Bound and the Army had shaped my relationship with the natural world. Both experiences emphasized the importance of knowledge, preparation, and respect for the environment. Outward Bound gave me my first taste of self-reliance and taught me to see the wilderness as a provider rather than a threat. The Army sharpened those lessons, embedding them in the context of survival and the stark realities of life and death.

If you want to chat with my clone about my wilderness training, just pop over here:

Today, I’m grateful for those formative experiences. They taught me to see the world through a lens of curiosity and caution, to appreciate the delicate balance of nature, and to remember the sacrifices—both historical and personal—that have brought us the knowledge we rely on today. And whenever I see a patch of mushrooms, I either wonder if they would nourish me or kill me when armageddon hits, or I think of those ancient foragers, whose courage and missteps have allowed us to enjoy the fruits—and fungi—of their labor.

Be Safe Out There, Gordon

The title image was create with this prompt on midjourney: Imagine an oil painting depicting ancient foragers experimenting with mushrooms in a dense forest. The scene is illuminated by soft, golden light filtering through the canopy, creating a dramatic chiaroscuro effect. On one side, a group of foragers kneels, joyfully discovering a patch of chanterelle mushrooms, their vibrant orange hues contrasting with the earthy tones of the forest floor. On the other side, a somber and tragic group surrounds a fallen forager, their expressions of despair and caution indicating the consequences of consuming the deadly Amanita phalloides, or death cap. The mushrooms are intricately detailed, showcasing their unique textures and colors. The mood is a blend of discovery, reverence, and danger, highlighting humanity's ancient connection to the natural world. --ar 16:9 This one was created with the same prompt but directly on ChatGPT - which do you prefer?