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The Environmental Spectator
The Evil Ivy
A menace worse than ticks and rattlesnakes.
When I was a kid exploring the big hardwood jungles of upstate New York I was prey to the plague of poison ivy, which was ubiquitous. I got it every summer.
These were vicious cases. When you are highly allergic to the sinister leaf you become something of a human scab for a few days. At the height of the attack I usually ended up in a doctor’s office for a shot of cortisone to open my swollen-shut eyes, the first sign of recovery. I never saw the point of Calamine lotion, except as a sticky, topical placebo. The eastern summers are hot and humid, and this only added to the misery. Swollen hands, suppurating patches on the torso and elsewhere, itchy-twitchy legs, blistered-burning feet. Sleep was impossible. The worst case I ever had was when I helped my late father burn some backyard brush. The old man thought nothing of the task. He never in his life got poison ivy that I can remember.
Living in the Rockies for the past twenty years has removed this scourge from my life. Poison ivy doesn’t exist in Wyoming — at least in the part of the Cowboy State that I lived in — or other high elevation states. But it is found along the rivers in the Southwest, such as the Colorado, and I’ve lately discovered that it’s present below 3,000 feet here in Idaho.
I recently took an eight-mile hike with a half dozen friends. We first drove sixty miles down the Salmon River to the end of the road at the border of the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, then took the Salmon River Trail from Corn Creek to Horse Creek. Here on the river a thousand feet lower than Salmon, it’s warmer, greener, and thick with ticks, rattlesnakes, and poison ivy. After a friend pointed out the patches of triangular, purple-shiny leaves (Toxicodendron radicans is purple in spring, green in summer, and red in the fall) periodically appearing along the trail, I forgot about the ticks and rattlesnakes. Despite wearing jeans and hiking boots, I still stayed on the trail to better avoid those purple leaves oozing what the flora pointyheads call “urushiol,” the natural chemical that causes “contact dermatitis,” a benign sounding phrase considering its hideous consequences.
My incessant scanning of the ground in front of me detracted a bit from the enjoyment of my surroundings. In this part of the Salmon River Canyon the mountains are mostly old forest fire burns carpeted with grass and sagebrush, and in the spring what seems like millions of arrowleaf balsamroots, vast expanses of yellow shading the green. There are shelves of riverside sandy beaches that appear or disappear depending on the extent of the spring flood, and are popular with summertime rafters. The river was a heavy snowmelt roar in our ears.
There were two dogs owned by friends along on the hike. Brown and white Wirehaired Pointing Griffons running up and down the trail and charging off the beaches into the river. Dogs are common on our hikes. One woman volunteers for the local Humane Society and she habitually springs a couple from their kennels for a day in the woods. They brush against you on the trail, or you reach to pet them as they fly by, and they’re generally fun to have around. Though not in the land of poison ivy. On this particular hike I refrained from petting dogs, and even cringed if they brushed against me. A dog’s coat is another typical means of transmission for “contact dermatitis.”
We hiked as far as Horse Creek and there stopped for lunch. Horse Creek is big, maybe twenty feet wide and almost a small river in itself, and is spanned by a wooden bridge before it blasts into the river. Its water was clear and deep, and the depth was hard to gauge, as big rocks on the bottom appeared vividly lucid to the eye. Three feet? Five? Six? It added that extra hydraulic symphonic soundtrack to lunch. I liked that slice of grass and pine at the junction of river and creek because I didn’t see any poison ivy.
On the four miles back I found that I had somehow subconsciously memorized all the places where I had noticed poison ivy on the way in. Every little shaded ground patch, or the single plants protruding from waist-high rocky banks next to the trail. In the latter type spot you would think I would be more vigilant of rattlesnakes. Never thought of them.
On the way home we all commented that the landscape and the river on a fine spring day made for one of our memorable hikes. So memorable for me, in fact, that when I got home I immediately took a shower, and threw all the clothes I’d worn into the washing machine.
But I seem to have dodged the bullet. It’s been a few days now and I’ve yet to see irritated red skin, or feel that unmistakable, telltale itch.
About the Author
Bill Croke, formerly of Cody, Wyoming, is a writer in Salmon, Idaho.
Letter to the Editor View all comments (29) | Leave a comment
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Alert1201| 5.24.10 @ 7:45AM
Great story. My brother use to get poison ivy they way you describe it. His whole face would become on big-bloated-puss-like-emitting mass, his eyes tiny slits and his fingers almost webbed together like a ducks foot. It was so bad that I could hardly eat while he was at the table, ruined many appetites and quite a few of my mother's fine summer meals got push away and eaten later in the evening or the next day as leftovers.
Kitty| 5.24.10 @ 10:43AM
I had a friend in high school who had a severe reaction to poison ivy. She didn't want to do anything, let alone eat.
Andrew B| 5.24.10 @ 8:20AM
For generations, the men in my family have boasted of our immunity to poison ivy. My great-grandfather, a fierce Victorian who believed that illness was caused by spiritual weakness, was reputed to have torn up a patch of it once, then gone in to have lunch without even washing his hands.
My father never got it nor did I, even after an ill-considered game of King of the Hill in Scout camp, which ended up in a lush, green thicket of tri-leaved horror.
Then, on a hike up the Palisades on the New Jersey side of the Hudson, I found myself in a patch of poison ivy that stretched, quite literally, for miles.
That night, after more than 100 years of immunity, my family's streak came to an end, and I erupted like a pinata of lymph. Perhaps it was my spiritual weakness.
Quartermaster| 5.24.10 @ 8:23PM
Usually what is thought of as immunity is really resistance. Most people do not break out with the first exposure, but with subsequent exposures. few people are actually immune.
I didn't break out with the dermatitis until adulthood, after I got into the Land Surveying business. I was exposed numerous times before that, and I've had it a couple of times in the last 24 years.
tdiinva| 5.24.10 @ 9:14AM
I have encountered the foul plant on another occaisions but after the discovery that the reaction to poison ivy is actually an antibody-allergin reaction I always bring benadryl along when I go on a hike. I take one before I start and another when I am done. I haven't had an outbreak since.
owyheewine| 5.24.10 @ 9:39AM
Idaho poison ivy is a selective species that is toxic to north eastern and California natives.
march2 2011| 5.24.10 @ 10:00AM
owyheewine,
Heh, would you kindly send some of your species down to Texas, please!
Patrick| 5.24.10 @ 6:47PM
The one benefit of living in Soviet Wisconsin is that we have the poison trifecta: Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, and Poison Sumac. Oh, and I'm immune.
Dennis Bergendorf| 5.24.10 @ 10:05AM
While I'm an Idaho native, I've lived in Indiana for the past two decades, and have discovered the joys of collecting the wonderful wild black raspberries that line abandoned north-south rail lines. But to avoid the poison ivy that grows in the berry patches, I actually have to wear fishing waders, long sleeve shirts and surgical gloves, not a pleasant experience at 90 degrees and oppressive humidity!
loulou| 5.24.10 @ 10:35AM
I know exactly what Bill Croke is talking about. I can spot poison ivy where no one else can. A hike in the woods means constant scanning for the evil ivy.
Richard Rogers| 5.24.10 @ 10:38AM
I grew up in the mountains of east Tennessee where at an early age I contracted my worst-ever case of poison ivy. One winter day I was walking through a neighbor's yard and pulled a dried-up piece of vine off a tree trunk peeled the bark off down to a still moist core put one end in my mouth and began to pluck it like a guitar string. I don't remember the rest but a day or so later it arrived, so bad that the doctor had to make several house calls. My hands were so swollen that they looked like an inflated glove and my eyes wouldn't open. Ironically, it was the doctor's yard where I had found the vine.
Mr Carrington| 5.24.10 @ 10:47AM
I too cringe at the sight of Poisonous Ivy. I went nearly thirty years without ever contacting it, as I was living at higher altitude in Montana. Then came August 2009, and I found myself on vacation over in Indiana clearing a downed tree off my father's Homestead. After so many years of not worrying about the ivy, I recognized it much too late, after I urinated on an old log behind the barn, after scratching my buttocks thoroughly, and evidently getting completely naked and rolling around in the stuff… Yep, it was just as bad in 2009 as it was back in 1979…that burning on urination feeling that set in a few days later, an STD it was not.
uncle curmudgeon| 5.24.10 @ 1:48PM
Here in the Piedmont region a common antidote is jewelweed. This plant thrives where poison ivy grows. People who are allergic to the ivy keep one eye peeled for the evil one and one eye out for the good stuff. Treatment consists of grabbing a hand full of jewelweed leaves, bruising them until they gety juicy, and then rubbing the affected area with the mashed leaves.
Happy trails to yew (haw haw).
Bill | 5.24.10 @ 2:43PM
Here in California, the evil weed is poison oak. It is just as bad. I have several memories of horrible infections. Antihistimines coupled with a quick swim in ice cold water upon arriving at one's destination works like magic.
Derek Leaberry| 5.24.10 @ 5:08PM
Poison ivy and poison oak are vile things and I have born their wrath. But I've seen people crippled by lyme disease via deer tics. Poison ivy pales before the devastation deer tics can afflict.
George| 5.24.10 @ 9:43PM
I grew up in the Bay Area in the 50's/60's. We used to skinny dip in Lake Chabot. As a joke a few of our best friends grabbed some of our cloths and threw them in the Poison Oak. Great Joke! I had no reaction. But poor old Mark had a case of PO that would have made hamburger look good. I was 18 before I got my first reaction then I knew I wasn't the super kid I used to be. Poison Ivy came later in Virginia, didn't seem as bad though. Maybe I'm becoming the superkid I lost in the middle of my life.
pactrik | 5.25.10 @ 6:55AM
The one benefit of living in Soviet Wisconsin is that we have the poison trifecta: Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, and Poison Sumac. Oh, and I'm immune.
Bo Darville| 5.25.10 @ 10:43AM
God's sign that recreational walking is a sin.
Russell | 5.25.10 @ 7:36PM
'God's sign that recreational walking is a sin."
And global warming greatly to be feared as the dread plant spreads its tendrils north-
Surely it was the medieval blossoming of this creeping evil that drove the Vikings out of Martha's Vineyard
sestamibi| 5.26.10 @ 6:36PM
Then there's the urban legend about the hiker in the woods who suddenly had to answer nature's call. He didn't have any TP on hand, so he reached for the shiny green leaves of this conveniently located vine . . .
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