Our Story is Your Story: Drew

We are so lucky to have people in our community who delight in the outdoors as much as Drew does. From hot springs to urban gleaning to running his hands through the dirt, Drew has spent the last eight years cultivating a beautifully close relationship to nature in all of her glory. We spent a morning in his backyard, talking about Breitenbush and camping with friends and the ways the ancestors move through us. Do enjoy this installment of Our Story is Your Story.

If you could describe your relationship to the outdoors, to nature, as if they were another person, how might you go about that? How much time do you spend together? What is it like when you are together? What do you feel in their presence?

Honestly, right now, I would say that I’m in a relationship in which somebody’s feelings aren’t requited. I don't know if it's the outdoors or mine, but we don't spend enough time together. And it’s been over the past year or so, because of COVID. It’s felt similar to the gym, for instance. I'm very excited when I'm there. But it's so hard to get there. To convince myself and my brain that I deserve it. To take that drive. Take that walk. But when I am doing it, I'm like: Yes, Capricorn, stick your hands in this dirt. And I really feel a release on my soul. When I’m outdoors, I always feel like I’m in the right place.

How has your relationship evolved over the years?

Growing up, I had no real connection to the outdoors. I grew up in Delaware and Philadelphia. I mean, my family wasn't like: Let's go hike. That was not a thing. So it wasn't until I moved to the Pacific Northwest, that I realized: Oh, this is dope. And it was so accessible. So I would say over the years that that relationship has definitely formed into something that feels like love, you know. I learned to forage out here. I learned what was edible and not edible off the trees. I had never lived anywhere, where I could just like walk up to this stuff and pick things. I wasn't like a fisherman or anything. Like, all of these things that are so accessible here, just were not growing up. So really it’s been the past eight years that I've really developed that relationship with nature. And it has saved my life. 

You know, my partner and I recently went mushroom foraging and, you know, we had been arguing and getting on each other's nerves. And we went out in nature together and everything just fell away. And it’s just a reminder of how important it is for me to go do things outside.

How was your relationship to the outdoors cultivated? Was it with other people? Did you go on your own?

Oh, it was definitely other people saying, Oh, hey, let's go do this thing. Especially Mercy. Just knowing someone who was so about it, made me feel safe to do it. You know, I’m kind of a workaholic. So when Mercy was doing all the things all the time, I would say, I'm working I’m working. But just knowing someone who was like, you know, you can do this and, seeing pictures of people like that look like me, seeing Black folks out in nature. My I’m working, I’m working turned into: Oh yeah. Let’s go. Let’s do this. But it’s definitely been relationship building. I met someone here who took me to Hug Point for the first time. Someone who took me to Silver Falls for the first time. And it's like, oh, yeah, I can now I can do this on my own. It's totally easy.

Did it always feel pretty natural when you first got started, or did you feel like you had to bumble through it?

It felt really natural, and it made me wonder why I hadn't really done it before. Why I hadn't sought it out. But the first couple of times I even went hiking I was like: This is gonna be terrible or I don’t want to be outside. And then I got to do it and it was wonderful. Same with camping. I've had some of the most amazing, eye-opening experiences of my life under the stars. And I’m so glad that these things have happened and that so much of it is community-based.

Do you feel particularly aware of your identities when you're nature?

Honestly, when I'm in nature, no. Something has to bring me back to that reality. And usually, it's something like negative – an outside force that's doing it. And so I try to let all of that fall away. And just exist. And I really try to do it intentionally: Like, open yourself up today. And if I feel like I am focusing on things like work or some experience, whatever I'm like, wait. Breathe. Take this in.

I think one of the most eye-opening experiences I had in nature, as an adult, was going to Breitenbush. Before last year’s fires, I had started going every year. And I would try to go every winter and every summer, and they were very vastly different experiences. You know, winter was literally a coming to myself. Setting aside all of the stuff from the last year. Silence. Being in hot springs in the quiet. Summer was like, let’s go camping and have party time and then go soaking. And maybe go jump in the river naked. You know, this is about celebration. And it was the first time in my life that I was really aware of needing that. Being outside and connecting to my own body in that way.

Do you have experiences of being in solitude in nature versus being in community?

I love solitude. I really really need it. And crave it often. If I'm in a hot spring, one of my favorite things to do is lay on my back and cover my ears. So I can't hear anyone. I can't hear nothing. Just me and that hot spring. Even if I only get that experience for a few seconds, I feel so much more whole. Because I don’t get experiences like that. I'm always just go go go go go. I think that's why I need solitude so much is because I don't focus on myself very much. So when I'm by myself in nature, it's me forcing myself – and a big chance – to get that alone time. Sometimes I talk to myself out loud. Like tap on my chest and say, Hey, Drew, how are you? And that’s powerful: to hear myself asking myself how I am. Me speaking to me.

When I'm in community in nature, like camping with the homies, I love it. That's the bomb. Like those are great experiences. I’m a chef. And one of my favorite things to do is to cook outside for my homies. You know, when you go camping, it’s like: Let's throw some bananas in some foil or like you know, grill some dogs or have some marshmallows. And I'm like nah, like we ‘bout to have pork tenderloin and quinoa and this and this and this. And I love doing it. Love seeing their surprise that I did all of that over a fire. I love fellowshipping over food. And fellowshipping over food in nature is definitely great for me. 

I also realize that while I love the atmosphere of being around a bunch of people, it’s definitely a very different experience that I’m choosing. Like, I'm choosing not to go somewhere to just take care of me. I’m actively choosing to be in community and to take care of the people in my community in that way. So I think that's how community versus solitude are very different experiences for me.

Can you speak more about your relationship to your body? How that’s been impacted or made more clear because of the ways that you relate to the outdoors? 

Definitely, especially as I get older. And it’s not even just like, oh, my knee! Or about being in pain. But just that when I'm doing my day-to-day, humdrum, blah, blah, blah, I don't take the time to be like, Oh, your hands look different today. Or like, what's this mole. When I’m in solitude in nature, I have the time to be like, Oh I’m starting to get creaky there. Or, this feels better than last week. And also just propelling my body through nature, taking a walk, taking my hike. It's like, my body is capable of so much. And I forget. I feel tired all the time. My legs hurt all the time, from work. But I forget that I have a powerful body. I'm strong. I'm really capable. And it’s instant gratification in nature when you're like, looking up at a hill, and you’re so unsure. And then you get up there and you feel good that you got up there. Like, You did that, Drew! So those are all things that just feel really, really good. Or just let me know, like, Hey, this is where my body is today. And that it might change from one hike to the next. And that's okay.

Do you have a favorite way to be outside?

I mean, if I could be at Breitenbush or Somebody’s Hot Springs 24/7 and always, I would 100 percent. The safest I ever felt was at Breitenbush. Right next to a bunch of their springs, they have these benches in this big field. And some of them are half enclosed. And I think the safest I've ever felt in my life. And it’s just wild to me. Because I was butt naked essentially.  I had a strip of cloth over my bottom half. And I had just gotten out of the hot springs. I was laying there, watching these butterflies and dragonflies, and I just fell asleep. I knew no one would bother me. I knew I was totally safe. And, you know, as a trans person, I'm like, Oh, I have never felt comfortable outside at all. 

I think it was just the connection to what is coming out of the earth. And everybody around me is doing the same thing, like everybody is trying to connect either with themselves, back to Earth, or with the couple of people they went with. It just felt so safe. So definitely being in hot springs is my favorite way to be outside.

My second favorite would be foraging. Or, gleaning in the city – like finding edible shit and thinking of things I can do with it. When I say urban gleaning, I mean, like, that person is not using those persimmons. Or, I see all those figs on the ground. Or, what you mean you're not using these cherries? Foraging is like, I’m going out into the unknown, into nature. I don't know what I'm gonna find. Gleaning I'm like, I saw that tree last week. They not using those.. I'm going to go get them. 

Can you talk about the connection between foraging and your love for preparing food?

You know people talk about Farm to Table and all that stuff. And it really is that wonderful. It is a full circle experience for me. To go out and forage for edible foodstuff, come home, and turn it into something beautiful is extremely rewarding. You don't know what you are going to get when you are foraging, in a way you are giving up control. You are acquiescing to whatever experience the earth wanted you to have.

Farm to Table is wonderful for sure. But from the Forest Floor to Your Table is choosing to meet nature where it’s at, instead of forcing it to produce what you want.

Can you talk about your experience with gardening, and what it was like to start this process that you had no familiarity with?

You know, I was willing to make mistakes. And one of the things they say about gardening is to grow three of everything: one for you, one for the animals that are gonna steal, and also just be willing to give stuff away. Like, I think a huge thing is recognizing that I live on stolen land, and I knew that half of what we grew was going to go to Indigenous folks in Portland. And I don’t think I would feel settled or good with having abundance and keeping it for myself. Every year that I've grown things, I'm always either giving it away or selling it. You know, like, I can't hold on to all of it and I don’t want to.

When I first started growing things, it came to me really natural. And I was not afraid to make mistakes. Like, the first time I had strawberries, I accidentally ripped off all the runners – which are like tendrils that grow other plants. Like they keep propagating themselves. And I didn’t realize that that’s what I was digging up. But then when I realized what I did, like months later, it was a great learning experience. And now I know to both control those – because you don’t want to let them go crazy when they’re in a bed – but I also like to let plants do their thing.

Have you ever had anything that feels ancestral in the way that gardening does?

I think my whole experience as a chef, as a cook, as a person with as close a connection with food as I have: I think the whole thing is ancestral. I don’t know who I was, but I have definitely always been feeding people. And I think that the gardening piece, though it came much later in life, is definitely a big part of that. I read stuff, of course. But it’s never felt hard to figure things out. In a lot of ways, it feels like I just know.