By Howard Whiteman
Murray State University
I hike as much as I can, and I never fail to learn something new on every trip. Hiking efficiently isn’t rocket science. When you are hiking off-trail, you usually look ahead for the easiest route up a mountain, not wanting to lose any hard-fought elevation. Second, you look at the ground, trying to figure out where your foot will hold and not slip on loose rocks. Plants are distant third, except where they are thick enough to affect the easiest path.
It turns out that deserts are very different. A few weeks ago I had the chance to hike in a desert for the first time, and I quickly learned what must be the universal rule of desert hiking: cactus come first.
Of course, I was careful to avoid the cactus right away, as there was so much of it. The giant Saguaro, easy to navigate because they grow 40’ tall, they are the trees of the desert. Organ Pipe Cactus, a multi-stemmed species that is aptly named, it is also easy to avoid because of its size, as large as 15’. Then there is the cute Barrel Cactus, much less common, small and shaped like a spiky barrel, but quickly noticed. There were so many others; the cactus diversity was incredible.
It was the Cholla that got me. I saw their white puffy growths while driving, admiring their beauty from afar, which makes them seem deceptively soft and fluffy. While hiking, I got closer and admired the sharp, dense spines, but carefully avoided them until the moment I slipped on a rock and my leg felt like it was grabbed by a shark: sudden, painful, and deep. Cholla, I came to learn the hard way, are feared because of their “jumping” spines that easily detach and stick on anything that hits them. The species I ran into was modular in that sense, with small, almost cucumber-like cylinders of cactus hitching a ride on my now aching leg.
As I tried to remove the spines, I realized how difficult that process can be. Every time I got a spine out, the pivot that I had used to remove it would push another one deeper from the other side of the Cholla cylinder. I later learned that Cholla spines have microscopic barbs that embed into skin and muscle, making them painfully difficult to remove. I finally figured out that I could pry them from the middle with my hiking pole, flinging the entire spiny cylinder away in one agonizing push, and managed to get them all off.
I left that patch of Cholla and once I finally made it to the top of the hill I spent some awkward time with my pants down, removing more spines from my leg with the pliers of my multi-tool. I pulled the remnants out that evening; the aftermath was obvious for days.
The lesson, however, was learned as soon as I felt that first stinging pain: cactus come first.
From then on, I looked for Cholla and other species first, and then considered the easiest way up the hill. Multiple times I had the option of a quicker route up the mountain, but the Cholla patches pushed me to take a detour. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice; the Cholla’s defense worked perfectly. Cactus reminds us that ignoring them has consequences.
When we learn the cost of not paying attention to our environment, our priorities change, whether it be Cholla or anything else. Just as we might learn to put cactus first in our hiking decisions, we need to put the environment first when navigating our own lives.
Humans have made our journey so far because of all of the environmental benefits, called ecosystem services, that we get for free. The biodiversity of the Earth makes clean air and water for us; we are the ones that pollute it. The biogeochemical cycles of the Earth keep our climate moderate; we are the ones creating climate change. It is our ignorance of these services and the spines that affect them that has led us to put dangerous chemicals into fish and ourselves, release non-native species, and help spread diseases in wildlife and humans.
A quick glance at the planet and you can see the spines clearly for what they are, as they are sticking all over us. The poles are melting and sea levels are rising, wildfires and violent storms are more and more common, and the Colorado River and groundwater resources are drying up. 98% of U.S. citizens now have PFAS in our bloodstream, increasing our risk of cancer, suppressing our immune systems, and reducing fertility. Dead zones the size of states occur on our coasts due to nutrient pollution from fertilizers. Invasive species hurt native plants and animals and cost millions of dollars each year in control efforts. Diseases have decimated wildlife populations and human communities.
Just like cactus, we know the problems facing us and we understand the solutions. Science has shown us a path forward through the cactus forest. Yet, too often we choose the easiest, quickest route to the top, not realizing that sooner or later, if we continue to ignore them, each of these environmental spines are going to nail us.
Putting cactus first saved my hide for the rest of my hike, and I didn’t feel another new spine that day. Whether we feel immediate pain from our actions or not, they are hurting us, like a Cholla spine that just doesn’t want to come out. It’s time to stop, pull some spines, and start thinking about ways we can avoid the next cactus. I learned my lesson the hard way. It won’t just be our legs that will benefit if we all learn that lesson before we accumulate too many more spines.
For a more in-depth version of this essay, please visit my substack, One Earth.