UPDATE: We got a lot of feedback over the weekend about the original headline for this story — Seattle’s magic mushrooms ruined my life. Some people said it didn’t accurately portray what the Pikes/Pines nature post was about. Others were concerned readers would only see the headline and a negative portrayal of magic mushrooms. We settled on the original headline after agreeing it fit given the personal story of starting a natural history exploration of psilocybe mushrooms. But we agree that the headline can cause confusion and is getting in the way of a good episode of Pikes/Pines. We have updated the headline. Thanks and apologies for any frustrations.

A map of Psilocybe mushroom observations around Seattle illustrates their urban tendencies (Source: iNaturalist)

A wavy cap, indeed (Image: CHS)

It was a Friday, a weekend away from my 16th birthday, and I had permission to wander off after school with my friends. On this dry October evening, I sat astride monkey bars in a playground in Northeast Seattle while we waited to catch a bus. For some reason that is still a mystery to me, I decided to jump off my perch, but neglected to notice the length of metal tubing below. My face impacted steel before my feet touched the ground and the majority of my two main incisors disintegrated.

When I landed on the ground, I felt obvious pain, but I hadn’t really clocked the ramifications. That was until I looked up at my friends, who appeared to be imitating The Scream. Tentatively probing my jagged maw and realizing what I’d done, I uttered an extremely dramatic phrase for someone under their parent’s insurance and with access to modern dental care.

“I just ruined my life.”

Now, you’ve already jumped to conclusions based on the title of this article and assumed I was high. You’re wrong. I was stupid, had made a bad mistake, but I wasn’t high. But my friends were. They’d eaten mushrooms earlier that afternoon and had just watched what they described as “tracers” fly out of my mouth, and then heard me utter a phrase that haunted them for the rest of the weekend (and long into the future). While it’s reasonable to ponder if my imbibing would’ve helped me through this trauma (doubtful), I know being sober made calling my parents on my Nokia brick less terrifying. My friends caught the bus and ditched me and I didn’t blame them. We’re all still friends and are all reasonably well functioning adults, drugs aside.

For years after breaking my teeth, I was deeply suspicious of psychedelics despite using cannabinoids, alcohol, caffeine, and very rarely nicotine. In fact, I didn’t try mushrooms until fairly recently, when I had a lovely time sitting on a river bank watching birds, making willow branch wreaths, and taking photographs. Despite my reticence and an enjoyable first experience, I never once did I stop to consider the natural history of these mushrooms — many of which grow right here in Seattle. Continue reading →