Trail Talk – October 2026

OLFACTORY MEMORY is one of perplexing magnitude. When considering our sensory inputs from the world around us, our sense of smell is seldom high on anyone’s list. Perhaps this is due to our evolutionary relationship with dogs, whose noses make ours pitiful in comparison. Where scent molecules exist in parts per millions or billions, we’re hopelessly outclassed. Consider our Pacific salmon, with olfactory capabilities able to retrace thousand-mile journeys back to natal streams.

So, we put to you: How often, while we’re walkabout in wild areas, do we take time to focus on the smells around us? Would we be able to identify our location blindfolded? What are the scent cues that awaken this awareness?

As children, who were raised in the vicinity of Jacksonville, we were aware of seasonal changes in valley aromas. Cold, foggy November days had us catching whiffs of woodsmoke from so many fireplaces and stoves riding in the slightly acidic wetness of the impenetrable fogbanks. Or the crisp, biting freshness of new fallen snow. Pasturelands brought the pungent stench of cattle, while the sickly-sweet smell of burnt gasoline told us we were near a roadway.

Springtime brought the unforgettable fragrance of a valley filled with blooming pears, and soon we were overcome with fresh cut grass hay or alfalfa. Summer’s heat in the woods was laced with pine scent and fresh blackberries on the vines, often chased away by the metallic tang of thunderstorms and showers of warm rain or hail. Autumn soon came with that choking sensation of dry leaves soon turned refreshingly damp with the fall rains.

Now consider your walkabout on our local trails. Those wet manzanita leaves in the Halls of Manzanita in Forest Park have a unique character, somehow so contrary to that of fallen madrone. Oak savannas of the Woodlands trails carry a mustiness when the rains come that tell us overwhelmingly that our woods are wet. Any trail through firs or pines contrasts so strongly with that path through a stand of cedar, while any hike through wet cottonwood leaves is sensational, in the exact meaning of that word.

What of the animal smells? Skunk is unforgettable, even in small doses. Bear simply stinks. Even that hiker far ahead of you with cologne or perfume becomes a part of that delightful tapestry of fragrance. Simply put, follow your nose. It’s yet another tool for mindfulness as you venture forth this autumn.

Forest Park News—Aware individuals have already commented on the updated You Are Here kiosks, 55 of which are installed throughout the park to help visitors. Your Forest Park Volunteers undertook this task during those dog days of summer. A hearty “Thanks” for the effort.