It took me a long time to really appreciate the Sam Houston National Forest as a hiking destination. The Lone Star Hiking Trail is the flattest long-distance trail that I know of in the US. It has no real vistas (though some think the view of the Sam Houston Statue from Trailhead #7 qualifies). There are no spectacular single-drop waterfalls; no craggy peaks; no purple-mountain majesties; no crashing oceans. I’ve come to know that the beauty of the Sam Houston National Forest is not in its grandeur, but in its detail. That detail is a sensory experience.
I see the Sam Houston National Forest as a regional treasure. It is primarily a managed, working, forest, yet it also serves as a recreational outlet. For the Houston area, it is a relatively close large tract of land for sportspeople, campers, equestrians, mountain-bikers, and motorized off-road vehicles. For the hiker and backpacker, the Lone Star Hiking Trail and associated trail system provides some 128 miles of footpath into the forest and to the designated scenic and wilderness areas within it. There is nothing like it elsewhere in the State of Texas.
A quiet stroll takes you through a variety of ecosystems in this compact forest management system. It’s a place of contrasts: hardwood and pine forest sections; low lying palmetto fields and dry upland forest; heavily trafficked popular trails and sections where hikers may not be seen for days; steamy hot in August and biting cold in winter; and periods of ample water followed shortly by drying up of seasonal streams. Mild sun-soaked days can be quickly replaced by fierce storms.
Some hikers hit the trail to challenge endurance for long stretches at a time. Others simply enjoy a short day hike. Usually, the forest is a place to recharge my battery after a busy week at work and a path to enjoy with friends, through all seasons. The forest changes quite dramatically through the year. From the leafless winter gray come spring flowers and the appearance of light green buds and dogwoods. Lush growth promotes a tunnel of nature’s greenery, soon to be followed by dusty trail in August. Once the heat breaks, fall comes quickly and it is a delight to be on the trail surrounded by a cascade of colorful wind-swept leaves.
Above all, I think the trail and the forest is very much a sensory experience—and one much more subtle than some of the famous national trails. It’s something that requires a bit of patience to fully appreciate. I enjoy seeing the sun punch through the morning mist; the dew covered violets; trickles of water in small drainage areas bordered by ferns; clusters of brilliant beauty berry; and towering canopies of trees.
The pileated woodpecker and Carolina wren often call out a greeting, the whoosh of a hawk’s wing can break the morning silence, crickets chirp in the grass, and the pine boughs comb the slightest puff of wind into a whisper. Listen carefully and you can hear the stag beetles chomping away at newly fallen pines. Recently I stood still in the Wilderness Section and heard at least seven different bird calls. The forest smells include newly unfolded mushrooms, pine aroma, and in some cases, pungent decay of organic material. Blackberry and farkleberry make tasty treats in the right season; inhaled mosquitos are less savory tastes--but they are tastes nonetheless. Weary feet are soothed by streams of cool water, and it's always a wonderful surprise to have brief unexplained pockets of refrigerated air on a 90 degree day.
In the woods, if I just stop once in a while, the detail makes itself known. I just have to stop using hiking muscles and use sensing muscles to experience it.