Washington Trails
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Trails for everyone, forever
Washington Trails
AssociationTrails for everyone, forever
A foraging trip offered a connection to the land and sea — and my own and other cultures. By Riley Collins
Growing up, I was wary of seaweed. I unwrapped it from my sushi and I’d leave the room if someone opened a can of furikake, scrunching my nose at the fishy stench. I would wade in the waters of the Salish Sea and find my ankles woven with long whips of bull kelp, raising a fear of what lies beneath the surface of the ocean.
But my fear began to fade in my junior year of college when I took a course called Wild Foods. We took field trips to parks and wilderness areas around Northwest Washington. We foraged for treasures of springtime, such as sword fern fronds and stinging nettle, while learning about the ways Coast Salish peoples connected to the land through careful and intentional plant harvesting.
Connecting with nature while foraging seaweed in the Salish Sea. Photo by Riley Collins
For our sea vegetables unit, we went on a seaweed harvesting trip. We chose to harvest at Fort Ebey State Park on Whidbey Island and arrived there on a beautifully overcast April afternoon. We went to Ebey’s Landing, a 5.6-mile loop hike that includes some coastline hiking, as well as a stretch along the bluff above the beach. We enjoyed views of Puget Sound, the Cascade Mountains and the Olympic Mountains all at the same time. After my classmates and I hiked from the trailhead to the beach, we were welcomed by hills quilted with purple vetch above fields of salty “sea beans” on a rocky beach. The low tide rolled back, revealing the briny, green smell of the Puget Sound.
Before we began our harvest, we paused to learn about the history of the land we were on. We were told that this was land stolen from the Coast Salish, who have stewarded the land since time immemorial. When the Treaty of Point Elliott in 1855 forced tribal leaders to surrender most of their land to the U.S. government, tribes were moved off the land and into reservations. To this day, tribes still maintain their sovereign and inherent tribal rights, including rights reserved by treaties on these lands. It was important to realize the context of the land we were harvesting on and how we can tend to both history and the ecosystem.
We began our harvest with the most proud and abundant sea vegetable, Alaria kelp. You might know it as wakame, the dried flakes in miso soup packets. You can recognize this vegetable by its long spine, which allows the plant to extend up to 30 feet. We cut it with kid scissors about one foot above its holdfast (the stem that connects it to a rock or the seafloor) to allow it to regenerate. We stored our wakame in large plastic baggies with some seawater to keep it fresh for a salad or to dry it at home for furikake seasoning. Then, we met sea lettuce, a bright green type of algae that has a unique umami flavor when eaten fresh or dried. Again, we made sure to harvest with scissors and leave the holdfast attached.
For our skincare lovers, we harvested rockweed, a type of seaweed that has branches of air bubbles to help it stay afloat. In these bubbles, rockweed holds its reproductive fluids, which we coated our faces with as a moisturizer and sunscreen. The plant can also be deep-fried and coated with parmesan as a “wild Cheeto.”
The seaweed harvest of May 2023 with my community. We harvested rockweed and nori, roasting the latter on Douglas fir boughs over a campfire. Photos by Riley Collins
Finally, I discovered my favorite of the seaweeds, rainbow leaf. Its other name, “splendid iridescent,” perfectly encapsulates the rainbows that bounce off of it while soaking in the sunlight. Its secret power is that, when boiled with oat, coconut or dairy milk, it has gelatinous properties that gel the milk into a heavenly soft, mousselike pudding.
As all of these culinary ideas were discussed by our group, I was reshaping my distaste for seaweed that I’d held onto for much of my life. At the end of the day, my class made a fresh wakame salad together with rice vinegar and sesame oil, enjoying the snap of the recently harvested kelp.
Riley by the sea at an Emerging Leaders Program work party. Photo by Tiffany Chou
While snacking on our bounty and watching the sunset, I noticed how many Asian families shared our space. I realized that for many Asian immigrant families, including my own, the seaweed harvest in the Pacific Northwest is a way to connect to deep ancestral food practices. Fort Ebey State Park acts as a transient meeting ground. It bore witness to the removal of the Coast Salish peoples from the land, the preservation of cultural food traditions by Asian immigrants and the exploration of outdoor enthusiasts drawn to the area.
As for myself, I considered these pieces of history to shape my thoughts about what foraging means to me. Harvesting seaweed is a practice of care. It requires a sense of community between everyone involved and a willingness to learn from the living beings in our local ecosystems. Harvesting and cooking with seaweed can inform us about enjoying seasonal gifts and deepen our respect for harvesting plants. Since that field trip, I have made the journey two more times with the community I’ve made through working at Asian-run farms. Each time, I feel as though we all learn something new while connecting over our own cultural identities. I hope to gain more excitement and wonder about the bounty that our ecosystems have, and grow as a forager with a focus on the lands and histories that support all of us.
(courtesy of Bamboo Sushi, Portland, Oregon)
Riley Collins is a Washingtonian with roots in Seattle. They’ve spent the last few years working at organic vegetable, flower and herb farms, forming their relationship to the land. They love swimming in glacial lakes in the summer, hiking through the winter and foraging for local plants for food and fiber year-round. They are constantly on a journey to become a steward of the land and continued that effort through trail work and BIPOC community building as a member of WTA's 2024 Emerging Leaders Program cohort.
