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Nature interpretation deals with the layer of subjective reality that overlaps objective reality. On the first layer, we have everything tangible, physical and immediate; the trees you see, blowing in the wind, the feeling of warm (or cold) rain on your face, the smell of flowers in springtime. Rocks that wobble under your feet. All these things we experience through our senses make up our objective reality.

              Our subjective reality is what we make of those experiences. Animals, as far as I know, don’t experience as complex of a subjective reality as humans do – we create social and political systems, assign meaning and purposes to inanimate objects, and ponder on the nature of good and evil. This is part of what makes us different from animals.

Nature interpretation attempts to bridge our objective and subjective reality. When we make emotional connections to and form opinions about aspects of objective reality, that is interpretation. Nature interpreters could be considered guides that help us better understand why we make certain connections, lead us towards valuable interpretations, and help us understand the overall importance of cultural ecosystem services and natural resources.

              One such connection is developing a sense of place in relation to the natural world. A sense of place can foster community, identity, and agency. Interpreters can help foster connections to a natural place through identifying specific natural characteristics as unique, telling a story or retelling history that helps individuals emotionally connect to a place, and relating a specific feature or landscape to ‘the overall scheme of things’, as described in ‘Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage’ by Beck et al., 2019. Interpreters help create meaningful and memorable experiences within nature.

              Throughout my life, I have acted as both guide and protégé; my family enjoys nature, but I grew up in the city and had to make the choice to interact with nature. In my hometown, where I lived until I was seventeen, I had a sense of place; I lived on a nice street, I knew everyone in the neighbourhood, and I felt content with my relationship with my surroundings. I didn’t feel the need to seek out additional connections to maintain a strong sense of place. I never even thought about my connection to the natural world, and its impact on my life. Thinking about it would have been like thinking about the impact of my house on my perspective in life. My house? I just live there. It’s just a vessel, the central train station from which I venture out to other places and form other connections, I would have said. I took it for granted; it was a constant, a relationship in the background, one that didn’t need to take up space in my conscious awareness.

              However, when I was seventeen, I moved to Taiwan as an exchange student. In a foreign place, without my family, where I knew no one, I immediately noticed that lack of connection, community, and safety; I felt lost and alone even though I had plenty of support from my host families and at school. Everything was so different; from the trees to the smell of the air, to the ocean a few miles away, so unlike the calm waters of Lake Ontario I grew up around. Even the colour of the grass was different.

              Every weekend, my host family would take me hiking, as they were avid outdoorsmen. In my application I had stated I loved hiking; however, I didn’t realize that in Taiwan, hiking meant spending 12-14 hours climbing a 4000-metre-tall mountain. To me, hiking meant walking around a flat forest for maybe an hour or two.

              Though the first few times, I struggled to make it up these massive mountains, every time I got to the top I was blown away by the scenery; the breathtaking peaks around me, covered in green and interspersed with white clouds; endless blue sky above that, and as I looked further into the distance, a hazy, foggy cast over everything, because there was nothing to block my view for further than I could see. Being on top of a mountain never failed to amaze me, and I came to appreciate these hikes and the individual mountains as more than just a source of exercise; they were a place to escape from my daily life struggles and worries, a place to feel content and connected and important. On top of a mountain, all my little worries and problems seemed so inconsequential, so small compared to the beauty of the natural world. Yet through climbing the mountain, I felt connected to everything in the natural world; I felt like my life, my journey, had more purpose and meaning because I could be connected to something so great and beautiful. If my journey brought me to the top of this mountain, then I could be a part of the mountain and its ecosystem, if only for one day. That feeling gave me a sense of place that sustained me in an otherwise foreign, unknown place.

              Over time I started to identify with the mountains. ‘My name is Serena and I like climbing mountains,’ I would say. I kept track of the ones I had climbed and made goals for ones I wanted to climb next. I learned about the endemic species and unique ecosystems at each one. I made an effort to recognize animal species I saw, notice the characteristics of tree species, and remember their differences.

              A couple of years later, it was time to apply for university. I struggled to choose between several different majors; should I study literature, because I love reading, or political science, because I want to be a lawyer, or environmental science, because I love the mountains? I struggled to decide which part of my identity I valued more, which part I wanted to dedicate the next four years to studying. But those scenes from the mountains just kept coming back to me; I saw the rolling hills, the blankets of forest spread out as far as the eye could see. I wanted to know that went on there. I wanted to understand the connections that made such landscapes possible. I wanted to be a part of that natural world, as much as I could, and have a positive impact on it, or at least try my best to do so.

              I chose Environmental Science, and here I am, almost four years later. Nature interpretation, to me, is what describes that feeling I had when I looked at the mountains, from the top of an even taller mountain. The epiphanies that came on all at once. The exhilaration from knowing I climbed all the way up there. The wonder and curiosity those views inspired within me. All of that and more are part of the valuable experiences we must foster through nature interpretation.

For my peers, why did you chose to study environmentalism in university? Do you think you would be who you are today without key experiences you had in nature?

Sources of Inspiration/references:

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2019). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage. Sagamore-Venture Publishing.

Otto, E. (2006). Science Fiction and the Ecological Conscience [Dissertation]. https://www.proquest.com/docview/305329196?pq-origsite=gscholar&fromopenview=true&sourcetype=Dissertations%20&%20Theses

Peter, von S., & Alex, M. (2015). What in the World? Storyworlds, Science Fiction, and Future Studies. Journal of Future Studies, 20(2). https://doi.org/10.6531/JFS.2015.20(2).A25