Small Actions, Big Transformations
How clearing brush and climbing a mountain altered my worldview
Sam Norton
Print illustrations by Erin McGovern
Pickaxe in hand, I gazed at the massive blackberry bush in front of me. Concentrating on one spot, I swung and connected right at the base. I stomped on the other end of the pickaxe and finally had enough leverage to yank the thorny, invasive plant out of the ground.
I turned around and tossed this bush onto a huge pile of other plants that my team and I had collected for the past two hours. We were clearing out a small stretch of forest along the Snoqualmie River, just south of the Cascade Range in central Washington.
I was sweaty, covered in burrs and sore from the same repeated swinging motion. It was only 10 a.m., but I was already hungry for lunch.
The dense vegetation of the Pacific Northwest enclosed us, and after two hours of removing bushes, we were starting to see only small changes for what felt like a lifetime of work. As I geared up for the next bush in line, I wondered what the point of it all was.
***
This past summer, I embarked on a week-long volunteer trip to Washington with the environmentally-focused organization Growth International Volunteer Excursions, better known as GIVE.
GIVE offers trips to students all over the world, with a focus on sustainable volunteering. It works with local communities on specific projects to benefit those in need.
As an environmental science major and honors college student, I originally planned this trip to fulfill honors requirements and explore what ecological volunteering looks like. Although I initially intended to go alone, my girlfriend eventually decided to join me.
Despite her coming along, I was still nervous to travel farther from home than I ever had before and meet a bunch of new people I had to live with for a week.
***
After waiting nearly two months over summer break, I was finally about to begin the trip I had planned for months. Walking up the stairs of a random hostel in Seattle, I knew it was time to meet new people and adapt to a new city and state. I wondered about the kind of people I would meet and was slightly nervous that they would be hard to get along with.
Yet to my tremendous surprise, the people that greeted me that night were 20 exuberant college students with infectious energy and friendliness. I was initially taken aback, but I quickly relaxed and engaged with them. I could feel myself starting to shed some of my preconceptions.
The next morning was early, as we had to commute an hour to our first volunteer site. My sluggishness quickly evaporated as I became immersed in conversation with my new companions and captivated by the views outside. As we wound through highways and backroads alike, we were all amazed at the lush mountains that seemed to follow us wherever we went as we traveled north from Seattle.
With everyone coming from different parts of the country, it was incredible how our paths led us to this trip. I quickly learned that our reasons for volunteering were similar — mainly driven by a love of the outdoors.
We started removing blackberry bushes the second day. After arriving at the park, we grabbed the needed tools, hiked a short distance into the woods, where we soon reached the riverbank, and began hacking the thorny beasts out of the ground.
I was curious why removing invasive plants was so important, especially after seeing the effort it took. It felt insignificant when I looked down at the small part of the river and saw just how much vegetation there was. As we ended, our leader explained the purpose behind our work.
I learned that removing invasive plants clears more area, allowing the trees to become healthier and grow taller. This provides more shade to the river, raises oxygen levels and is better for native salmon that return to their breeding grounds each year.
In that moment, everything clicked for me. I was amazed at the chain of positive environmental effects that could be triggered by removing what did not belong from an ecosystem, even if it was just one bush of an entire species.
On an ecological and personal level, it was incredibly encouraging to see how this seemingly small effort from a bunch of college kids could substantially impact the world around us.
On the second day of volunteering, we removed invasive shrubs in an open field near our lodging. A constant buzzing filled the air as we worked under the powerlines that created a scar cutting through the otherwise pristine wilderness.
Despite this reminder of civilization directly overhead, nature still seemed to swallow us. Towering mountains in the distance rose above man's creation, and the expansive view looking down the hillside seemed to stretch on forever.
I was encouraged while working as we all discovered a newfound resentment for the invasive plants taking over these precious ecosystems. We pushed each other to go after the biggest and baddest shrub we could find.
It was certainly not pretty or easy, but during this hard work, I got to know many of the other volunteers. We talked about anxieties related to college, past bad relationships, what it's like to scuba dive with dolphins, and many other intimate parts of life.
It felt good to talk in a judgment-free environment. Despite only knowing them for 48 hours, I felt welcomed and appreciated by the other volunteers.
These small conversations shaped the mood for rest of the week. I realized that I enjoyed these little moments of learning and growing with each other — something I had not expected when I landed in Seattle.
***
We stayed in a cabin in the middle of the woods for most of our trip. Although there was a crew there to serve us, everyone seemed to jump at an opportunity to help in any way possible. We cleaned dishes, chopped firewood, and swept without being asked.
One night, several volunteers and I decided to play the card game, “Apples to Apples”. What started as a way to pass time ended with most of us crying with laughter as we forced the judge to read out the description of every card.
It was one of those moments that you don’t even understand what was so funny when looking back. All that matters is that, at the moment, it was one of the funniest things I had ever been a part of. In just a few days, these people from across the country I had never met became my great friends through these shared moments of joy.
I still find myself thinking back to those moments with fondness and admiration. It reminds me how important it is to surround myself with people willing to do the smallest things to make a difference. I now do my best to always find joy in helping others.
At this point in the trip, it seemed as if every waking moment was filled with laughter and sincere happiness. This environment was something I had not experienced since I was a kid in summer camp, and getting to create these bonds at this point in my life was surprising in the best way.
I saw change not only in myself but in my other friends. I was beginning to understand how important the intimate moments we had been sharing were.
On our third day of volunteering, we again worked on removing invasive blackberry plants along the Snoqualmie, just a few miles upriver from the first day. That same afternoon, we went tubing down the river.
As we floated down the current, the tranquility of being on the water and the beautiful scenery of the Washington wilderness was a wonderful break from our hard work. Our leader reminded us that without the efforts of those like us who worked to keep the river healthy and clean, we would not be able to enjoy these activities.
We felt very proud to see how our work benefited the environment and the people who want to experience nature as it should be. I have found that I am most at peace when surrounded by nature, and everyone should be able to have that experience.
On one of the last days, we took a break from volunteering to spend the day hiking to the top of Thorp Mountain. I was excited at the prospect of reaching the nearly 6,000-foot summit to see the incredible views of Mount Rainier that the route is known for.
On previous hikes, I often only found satisfaction in completing the journey as quickly as possible instead of taking the time to appreciate the actual hike itself.
Yet, I forced myself to step back and slow down on this day. My girlfriend asked me to stay with her and others who didn’t want to race to the top, and I agreed.
We started our hike and began falling behind those in the front. I found myself experiencing a different aspect of this adventure. I was able to hold long conversations with others at this pace, and we stopped more often to appreciate the stunning nature that surrounded us even at the lower elevations of the mountain.
We were surrounded by a beautiful, pristine forest that could have come from a fairy tale. I felt humbled as I looked up at a canopy composed of towering pines, and I was taken aback by the delicate blanket of ferns and mosses that sprawled across the floor.
The combination of peace and wonder that I feel in places such as that forest always tugs at my heart and brings me back to nature. I felt truly grateful in that moment to experience these wonders of our planet.
As we got to the more strenuous parts of the hike, we started to struggle. There was light-hearted joking and complaining about the hike's difficulty.
Where I previously may have been annoyed, I instead made an effort to encourage everyone. I emphasized how incredible the views would be, how accomplished we’d feel afterward and lied a bit about how much elevation gain was left.
As I pulled these words from within myself, the physical pain was second to the fun we all had together on this trail. I struggled to catch my breath as my lungs began to sting and legs started to burn, but we kept at it.
With sore calves and tight chests, we eventually got to a clearing where we were greeted with a sign that informed us we had a short, though steep, final stretch. After a water break, we pushed through a dense forest and finally made it out.
Like walking through a portal to another world, my breath was taken away by what my eyes beheld. The grand magnificence of Mount Rainier filled my view. Its snow-capped peak, cascading slopes, ridges and sheer massiveness still captivate me today. Its grandeur entranced me as I continued the trek, and I had to peel my eyes away to take in the beauty that immediately surrounded me.
Sprawling fields of wildflowers blanketed the slope, their bright colors in beautiful contrast to the scraggly green grass. The trail zigzagged back and forth as it continued up. At the base of the mountain, I saw a deep blue lake stretching across the landscape, perfectly framing the splendor of Mount Rainier. It took me a few minutes to snap out of my awe and finish the journey.
At the summit, Mount Rainier dominated the horizon to the south, while the jagged Glacier Peak and the endless green of the Okanogan-Wenatchee forest carved the landscape on all other sides. Nothing stood between us and God's majestic creation.
I realized on top of that mountain how good it felt to be a source of encouragement rather than racing against myself to the top. Suddenly I didn’t feel so small but rather amazed that I could impact this incredible world and its people for the better.
It was the culmination of so many different moments throughout this trip that showed me over and over again how small actions could lead to huge, fulfilling change. I descended that mountain overjoyed, happy at how much I felt I had changed in just a few days, and proud of how our group, fondly named “Team Trail Mix,” stuck through our tough hike together.
***
A couple of days later, I was deeply saddened when I said goodbye to those I had become so close with over such a short period. I truly felt that I had connected individually with every single other volunteer at one point or another, and I still miss our time together.
Yet when I look back on this trip, what tends to fill my mind more than the views from hikes is the small moments I experienced and the people I interacted with. I now realize that I can enact incredible change within myself, the environment and others, even if the changes seem small.
But that’s the thing: Small changes are everything. When you focus on the simple, minute aspects of life and let the little things matter, it’s much easier to see just how big of a change you can make.
