Ginseng Digging With Dad

Growing up one of my favorite things to do was to spend the day hiking all over Gods creation with a backpack, a cane made from the first small sugar maple you came to, and some snacks for the journey. We'd all load up in the vehicle and find some secluded spot in the mountains to park and begin walking the woods up one mountain and down the next looking for a little green plant with red berries called Ginseng. In those days I didn't really understand why Ginseng was so popular or what exactly it was used for I just knew an old man in a garage along the road going to Elkins would buy it from us at the end of the season and we'd have some money to spend on bikes, games, or whatever we wanted.

While finding the Ginseng was always exciting and made the walking worth the trouble most of the time it was more about family than what we were digging. We'd spend the entire day finding and digging Ginseng only to head home, clean it, and put it on a tray to dry before heading out again in a day or two. I spent countless days in the woods with my dad and my brothers seeing who could dig the most, stopping to cut a grapevine and swing a bit, or exploring a new area of remote wilderness in the West Virginia hills.

Growing up in West Virginia certain hobbies/lifestyles are passed down from one generation to another and ginseng like trapping, skinning, and fishing is one of those. You start young and quickly develop a keen eye that can spot the top of a Ginseng plant under a fallen tree a half a mile down a hillside. Although I'm close to forty now, in my youth I could run full sprint down the hillsides grabbing from one tree to the next, launching over rocks and other debris, and sliding down mud covered areas without missing a beat. Dad was always bringing up the rear with a more thorough approach taking his time to make sure he didn't miss any.

Looking for Ginseng isn't always fun and games you walk forever, usually find very little, get stung a lot, and learn first hand just what stinging nettle is on an almost every trip occasion. I remember many times finding those tiny little holes in the ground, hearing the buzzing, feeling the stings, and running even faster than I thought capable with a swarm close behind me. A particular time that comes to mind is when we found some ginseng and began to dig it only to find out that it was rooted into a nest and we all got stung that day trying to get it out.

As I get older and the regulations seem to get stricter by the year I no longer go out much to look for ginseng but I wouldn't trade the memories I have of those trips for anything in the world.