Meeting Walker — A Journey into the Healing Power of Mushrooms
How one man’s journey from neurological illness to mycologist is cultivating hope, health, and sustainability in Maryland’s mushroom farms
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I met Walker at the Old Ellicott City Farmers Market, where he works as the mycologist at Davis Highlands Orchard and Farm. I had planned to visit every booth that day, but the Davis Highlands table—stacked with maitake, oyster, and lion’s mane mushrooms—stopped me in my tracks. Ten minutes later, we were deep in conversation about mushroom cultivation, and after that, I barely made it to any other booths. Before I left, Walker invited me to visit the mushroom farm.
Two weeks later, I drove out to the farm in Phoenix, Maryland, eager to learn more.
I arrived early. The gate was locked. I called Walker—he was just down the road. A few minutes later, he appeared, hurdling over the fence to let me in.
He led me into an old dairy barn they’d converted for growing mushrooms. Inside, the space opened up, stretching far wider than the modest exterior suggested. The first thing you notice isn’t the mushrooms—it’s the loud, steady hum of fans you have to talk over.
He unzipped the flap and led me into one of his gray tents, where humidity hung in the air. A misty fog curled around us, blurring the edges of the shelves and cloaking everything in a soft haze. Rows of sturdy racks held countless sawdust-filled bags, each sprouting clusters of Princess Pearl, Black Pearl, and Lion’s Mane mushrooms. The tents were climate-controlled, maintaining 80 to 90 percent humidity at around 60–65 degrees Fahrenheit—ideal conditions for the fungi to thrive.
But he explained, the air has to be exchanged with fresh air about every four minutes, so it’s on constant circulation. He noted that the cost of running the fans is actually one of the highest expenses in mushroom growing.
Lion’s mane was the mushroom that changed everything for him. Years ago, he was suffering from serious neurological symptoms caused by damage to his myelin sheath—the protective, insulating membrane that wraps around nerve fibers and ensures electrical signals flow smoothly through the body. For him, this damage meant constant migraines and seizures: at its worst, he experienced around thirty episodes a day. He says the damage to his myelin sheath was the cumulative result of a reckless youth—twenty concussions from wrestling, football, lacrosse, rock climbing, and mountain biking into trees. “Just being a crazy kid,” he says. Eventually, it all caught up to him.
One day, while foraging with friends in the woods around Ellicott City, they stumbled across a massive haul—fifteen pounds of lion’s mane mushrooms. Knowing its reputation for neurological benefits, his friends insisted he take it all.
'My friend Ben had a rough idea of how to grow mushrooms,' he says. 'So we figured it out together.' That chance discovery set everything in motion.
They began cultivating lion’s mane—and slowly, something changed. He ate a few lion’s mane cakes each day, and within six months, his seizures and migraines dropped from about thirty a day to just five or ten a week. Now, six or seven years later, they’ve completely disappeared.
He says that in the U.S., we’re still in the early stages of understanding lion’s mane, even though it’s been used in Eastern medicine for centuries.
Researchers have identified compounds in the mushroom that encourage brain cells to grow and form stronger connections. In mouse studies, these compounds improved memory—raising the possibility that lion’s mane could one day aid in treating brain injuries or neurological diseases.
He believes lion’s mane helped heal him—and it sparked a passion that became his calling. Now a mycologist, he supplies specialty mushrooms to restaurants across the region. When chefs can’t find what they need, they know to call Walker. One of them is Chris Amendola, chef and owner of Foraged, a Baltimore restaurant known for its focus on wild ingredients and sustainable farming. Walker says chefs are especially drawn to pioppino, as well as more familiar favorites like chestnuts.
What surprises Walker, though, is how many home cooks eat mushrooms raw in salads—especially common varieties like cremini, portobellos, and white buttons. “They’re all the same kind of mushroom—Agaricus bisporus,” he explains.
What most people don’t realize, he says, is that these mushrooms contain a naturally occurring level of hydrazine. “It’s not super high, but from what I’ve been told, it’s basically jet fuel occurring naturally in the mushroom.” He always recommends cooking them before eating, since heat renders the hydrazine inert.
“We’re planning to expand the farm,” he says. “We have 18 acres in Manchester, including woodlands—and I’m planning to grow outdoor mushrooms like chicken of the woods, beefsteak, and turkey tail.”
He’s especially intrigued by their medicinal possibilities. “Those mushrooms are being looked at for their anti-carcinogenic effects. There’s a lot of positive potential,” he says. “But it certainly needs a lot more research before anything definitive can be said about them.”
“I wouldn’t completely write mushrooms off just because they look kind of strange,” he adds with a smile. “I mean, broccoli was genetically engineered by people. I love broccoli—it’s good for you.”
They’re producing close to 300 pounds of mushrooms a week now. But don’t mistake it for easy work. Walker puts in 80 to 90 hours each week, managing humidity, cleaning, monitoring temperature fluctuations, checking system controls, and handling the delicate nature of fungi. He estimates a success rate of around 95 percent—an impressive achievement.
When I asked about other mushroom farms in the Baltimore area, he said, “Mushroom farming is hard to get right all the time, especially when you get into higher stakes like a restaurant that really needs consistent ordering. If you have another farm down the road that grows the same kind of mushrooms you grow, you might say, ‘Hey, this week we don’t have 5 pounds of chestnut mushrooms. Do you have 5 pounds that we can get from you?’ They do a similar practice to you. What comes around goes around. He doesn’t see other mushroom farms as competition, just a combined effort. Walker has a community-based, positive outlook on farming.
We were just about to leave when Walker paused. He leaned in slightly and said, “You know oyster mushrooms can absorb harmful chemicals from roadways—oils, hydrocarbons. They break them down into simpler, harmless elements. They'll even take up heavy metals.”
Then he told me about the train derailment in East Palestine, Ohio—where 38 cars carrying hazardous materials went off the tracks. In response, he loaded up a pickup with spent oyster substrate and spread it along the riverbed.
“It’s not just good for business,” he says. “It’s good for humanity.”
They are now planning to scale up, aiming to move into a 2,500-square-foot facility—and possibly build a second one. Depending on the varieties he grows, he estimates he could produce anywhere from 3,000 to 7,000 pounds of mushrooms each week. They are eyeing partnerships with major distributors and exploring opportunities with larger grocery chains. “We want to scale up as much as we can,” he says.
If all goes according to plan, Davis Highlands could soon be supplying mushrooms to kitchens across the Mid-Atlantic—and beyond. For updates follow along at facebook.com/davishighlands.