Out With The Big Sagebrush

This past Friday, I really needed to take a mental health day.  I found myself wanting to get out into the sagebrush and pine trees, to a place that reminds me of my Uncle Bob’s property in the Eastern Sierras.  I decided to drive for about an hour up Angeles Crest, and hike a section of the Silver Moccasin Trail I’d explored before with a friend near Mount Waterman in the Angeles National Forest.

If you drive far enough up the highway to the desert side of the mountains, the plants begin to change.  You’ll begin to encounter a plant which grows in abundance at my Uncle’s place in Sierra Valley - Big Sagebrush (Artemesia tridentata)

Big sagebrush is an important plant.  It can be used for purification in the sweat lodge, disinfection, and to cure colds and stomachaches, along with many other traditional uses.  While last at my uncle’s place during New Year, I wandered his property, and walked through the abundant sagebrush.  I collected a small amount which I bundled and gave to relatives, and kept one for myself which now hangs on my kitchen cabinet.

Now, whenever I need a moment of peace, I take a deep breath of the fragrant bundle and am transported back to the beauty of Sierra Valley where it covers the landscape and perfumes the air.  I am reminded of the rustic comfort of my uncle's land, which has become a cherished place for all of my family.  And on this last hike of mine, I realized that this is a plant that I am developing a special relationship with.

Out with the Big Sagebrush - Sierra Valley, CA

Oh Happy Days

Please allow me to introduce you to one of my favorite spots, located in the heart of Altadena, CA - Oh Happy Days Healthfood Cafe & Market!  

What is it like to visit Oh Happy Days you might ask?  Well, imagine going to your grandfather's house for some good, home-style cooking, except that your grandfather is vegan and knows a lot about health.  

That's what you can expect at Oh Happy Days.  It's rustic food is pure, hearty, nutritious and filling.  You can't go wrong with the soup!  With brown rice, beans and vegetables, it's a full meal in itself for less than 3 bucks... and all organic!!!  The Lomein noodles are also good. 

 I discovered this place one night several years ago, when I stopped by with my mom to purchase some supplements.  Opening the door for the first time, I was met by the turning heads of the locals who were sitting at communal wooden tables over steaming hot plates of food.  The owner was very friendly, and I didn’t fail to notice the hand-painted sign on the front window advertising a bowl of vegetable soup - for a mere $2.50!  

The heart and soul of Altadena 

Upon my second visit there, I decided that the soup was too good a bargain to resist.  On this day, the sunlight brightened up the store’s yellow painted walls, and the classical music playing in the background created quite a cheerful atmosphere indeed.  There were African paintings, statues on display, buddhist prayer flags, and interesting things to look at all around.  A truly worldly place, the cafe walls displayed an eclectic mixture of cultures and influences.  I tried the soup, loved it, and have been coming back ever since.  

Oh Happy Days has become a place where I feel comfortable passing the time. It’s the kind of place where strangers will introduce themselves and start a conversation with you.  It’s a place that brings people from all different races, ages, and backgrounds together.  

Someone caught me in a pic!  The author, at center - a regular at “John’s"

Like everyone who frequents this establishment, I became friends with the owner, John - who is one of the best people I know and an inspiration to me.  A vegan for over 30 years, John has run his store in Altadena for about as long.  Now in his sixties, he goes on long bike rides, cooks all of the food, and works tirelessly maintaining this peaceful little spot - a true gift to the community.

John

For the highly affordable price, John's homestyle cooking really hits the spot.  Oh Happy Days is a community gathering place, and John is such a caring guy.  I've seen him give a free bowl of soup to the homeless before, and get the sense that he helps a lot of people out.  Definitely a place worth supporting!

First Overnight In The Angeles

It was mid January of 2009 when I departed for my first overnight journey into the mountains.  I had been hiking the trails often, and had been wanting to camp overnight for some time.  I felt different when I was out on the trail…  free and strong.  I was comfortable by now in these mountains, and wanted to know what it would be like to take it one step further and stay overnight.

This was to be an adventure!  I had a tent, sleeping bag, book, instant miso soup and cooked brown rice, water bottles, granola bars, and tortillas.  I began from the Chaney Trail parking lot in Millard Canyon - my favorite place to take off into the mountains.  Following a quick smoke, I placed my Adventure Pass in the window, and was off.

The Sunset Ridge Trail

It’s always exciting hiking up the trail through the oak-covered hills and above the stream of Millard Canyon.  Though it felt the same as the hikes I’d make into this canyon before, I knew this time I wouldn’t be coming home at the end of the day.  I’d be out there.  Outside.

I’d hiked the Sunset Ridge trail so many times by then that I fail to recall any significant difference in my enjoyment of the sights and smells of native California during this particular trip.  I only remember knowing that this time I’d wake up in the forest!  It seemed an adventure indeed, and I felt pretty bad-ass when chatting with a group of young hikers I met while taking a pause to eat some tortillas at Dawn Station - an old station of the former Mt. Lowe Railway.

I had been up to that point before and higher, having reached the Mt. Lowe Campground at least once before.  I was encouraged when I reached the timberline not much further above, knowing that I was coming upon the last stretch of my journey.  I passed Granite Gate, and took a picture of it with my cellphone.  I studied all of all of the old-time photos on display boards.  Signage and pictures of other landmark passings were posted all the way up to the campground.

Once I finally arrived at the campground, I was relieved to find that I was the only one there.  I rested my pack on a bench-table seat and sat to enjoy a snack following my exertions.  What a feeling I had, while my legs were swinging on that bench and I was eating my sandwich.  Looking out over the trees in the afternoon sunlight and knowing that I was free!  That I was here!  That I had nowhere else to be!

Mt. Lowe Campground 1/14

I had reached the campground and took time to read it's informative historical exhibits, but my goal was to reach the nearby summit of Mt. Lowe that day.  Not wanting to lug as heavy a pack as I had been carrying further, I climbed into the woods on the hillside above the ruins of the old resort and stashed my tent and sleeping bag behind a tree.

Ye Alpine Tavern - the current site of Mt. Lowe Campground

This was all new country to me now, and I passed first the site of old cottages that had housed guests and maids of the resort as far back as the 1800s.  When finally I reached the summit of Mt. Lowe, I admired the pictures of Professor Thaddeus Lowe and some other old-timers in fine dress on the summit of the former Oak Mountain (later renamed for Lowe.)

I ignored the group of eight or so affluent-looking folks (who had obviously walked in from the nearby Mt. Wilson Road) and gazed out upon the horizon and to the valley below.  I actually managed to text my brother from that height and let him know that I’d made it!  It was good to receive his response, and I admired and explored the peak a while longer.

Oak Mountain, near the summit.  

By the time I arrived at the campground and had retrieved my stashed goods, it was almost dark and I had yet to make camp and forage for firewood.  I had not expected that I would be allowed to make a campfire.  It was my first time camping, and I guess this city boy expected the rules to be more stringent!  I was pleasantly surprised to find the fire-rings, but found myself now scurrying about in near-darkness trying to scavenge enough dead and cut branches to maintain a fire.

Luckily, there was an abundance of dead branches piled up - native shrubs and manzanita wood that had been cleared and piled on the side of the fire road to the camp.  I gathered the remainder of my wood in the dark with the aid of a miniature LED flashlight and felt rather light and energetic running about in the brisk evening air.  Perhaps the feeling of lightness was because I no longer carried a heavy pack strapped to my back.

The surrounding hillsides and peaks had grown dark by the time I huddled near the campfire.  The stars were out, and the ruins of the old resort were dark and empty as the light of my fire flickered against it’s walls.  I made some tea and munched on trail mix, though I distinctly recall not being able to sit down and relax near my fire as I would have liked, for I was continually getting up to feed it.  I was walking my tired body around different sides of the flame with my bandana over my nose and mouth like a bandito, trying to avoid the shifting direction of the smoke that burned my eyes.

Cell phone pic of my first campfire!  

I sat near the edge of the fire pit for a while trying to read the book I’d brought by firelight, but it was never long until I had to get back up to again feed the flames.  Eventually, sooner than I would have liked, I decided it was time to go into my tent and abandon the embering pit.  I hung my little flashlight in my tent and unrolled my sleeping bag.  I laid down on top of it and felt that I could have fallen asleep right then and there.

I roused myself up into a sitting position under my light to read a bit.  The book I’d brought with me was one which I had just received for Christmas entitled “Sacred Plant Medicine:  The Wisdom In Native American Herbalism.”  A seemingly fitting book for a night in the forest.  Hours passed as the cold wind whistled through my tent.  The haunting photographs of long-dead medicine people stared somberly at me through the depths of time as I read of the connection and relationships between humans and plants, and of the knowledge that can be gained firsthand from plants.

The chapters began to meld into one another and reading grew more tiresome.  I turned out the light and settled into my sleeping bag in the pitch-blackness of my tent.  The darkness let up as my eyes became adjusted, but the cold and wind did not.  My tent was pitched on a gradual slope atop many roots and rocks; outside there were noises…  I forced myself out of the tent once past midnight to relieve myself.  Facing the dark old ruins, I had some fear of ghosts.  I reminded myself that this resort had been a place of joy.  I didn’t sleep much at all that night.

I arose exhausted early in the morning and cooked a breakfast of oatmeal on my little camp stove.  The trip had been great so far (except for the not-sleeping and being frozen part of it!)  I wanted to see Inspiration Point, for it was nearby and I’d never been.  I hiked up to the structure through the beautiful manzanita bushes and peered out from the high up view.

Just as from the top of Mount Lowe, the recognizable landmarks below seemed especially small.  I could see Pasadena City Hall, Los Angeles City Hall, and everything in between.  I could see Catalina Island far out on this overcast day, and felt as if I could see the curvature of the Earth.  There was hustling and bustling going on in the civilization below, but I couldn’t hear it.  All I heard was the wind running through the branches.

The author revisiting his first campsite.  Mt. Lowe Campground 1/14

I turned around and walked back upon the familiar trail.  It was time to return to that concrete world of electronics and automobiles.  But a new chapter of my life had begun.  Forever after, looking up to the looming peaks from the city below, I would always remember that experience.  I’d spent a night in the Angeles, and the mountains were now that much more a part of me.

Blue Corn Atole

I felt inspired Friday morning to make myself a breakfast of blue corn atole in preparation for a long day of work after reading of it’s use in Rudolfo Anaya’s classic novel Bless Me, Ultima.  

Atole, from the Nahuatl word atolli, is a maize porridge which has been eaten in Mexico for thousands of years.  According to Daily Life of the Aztecs, breakfast for the Aztecs “nearly always consisted of a bowl of atolli… thick or thin as the case might be, and either sweetened with honey or seasoned with pimento.”

In Anaya’s novel, the curandera Ultima uses blue atole to heal:

“’Ay,’ Ultima said, ‘we have begun our cure.’ She turned and looked at me and I could tell she was tired. ‘Are you hungry?’ she smiled.

‘No,’ I replied. I had not eaten since breakfast, but the things that had happened had made me forget my hunger.‘Still, we had better eat,’ she said, ‘it might be the last meal we will have for a few days… Lay your blankets there and make yourself a bed while I fix us some atole.’

I spread the blankets close to the wall and near the stove while Ultima prepared the atole… 

‘This is good,’ I said. I looked at my uncle. He was sleeping peacefully. The fever had not lasted long.

‘There is much good in blue corn meal,’ she smiled. ‘The Indians hold it sacred, and why not, on the day that we can get Lucas to eat a bowl of atole then he shall be cured. Is that not sacred?’"

Blue Corn Atole

1 cup water
1 cup milk or milk substitute (hemp, rice, soy)
1/4 cup roasted blue corn meal
1/2 tsp vanilla extract 
Generous dash of cinnamon 
Maple syrup, agave nectar, or honey to taste

Instructions:

1.  In a saucepan, whisk water, milk, cornmeal, and cinnamon until there are no lumps.  

2.  Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly until it begins to thicken.  

3.  Bring to boil, then add sweetener to taste and reduce heat to a simmer.  Continue to stir and prevent lumps from forming for a minute or two.

4.  Turn off heat and let sit for a few minutes.  Serve in a bowl or hot mug.

Medicine Trail

I never used to be a runner.  In fact, when I first began running, I couldn't make one lap around a quarter-mile track without stopping to wheeze and catch my breath.  But as time went by, I kept trying.  I felt a lot of frustration with my life back in those days, and running was a way that I sought to improve myself.

My first race - the L.A. Chinatown Firecracker Run

While living in Old Pasadena back in 2007, I would drive out to the Rose Bowl and run around the 3.3 mile loop.  I remember saying to myself the first time I ran around it non-stop, "You know what that means, right?  You have to do this every time now!"  Once I moved back into my house on the Arroyo's edge, I almost always began my runs into the Arroyo from the John Crowley trail descending Salvia Cañon.  This became my medicine trail, the place where I came to work on my mind, body and spirit.

The Salvia Cañon trail, as I call it, was not always there.  Salvia Cañon was once just a steep road without a sidewalk or trail alongside it.  I remember walking that road as a child on my way to UCLA football games.  I remember my dad’s reaction as he noticed prickly pear cactus growing on it’s slope.  “Ah, nopales!” he exclaimed as he gathered the spiky pads.  My babysitter, Rosa, sauteed them for me with vegetables.  Now the canyon has a lovely trail which winds through beautiful native plantings.

Once I reach the trail, I begin to run.  I let myself go as I weave between the trees.  I loosen my body and focus on using only the muscles necessary to glide forward as my feet rotate below me.  Like water, I adjust to the trail, and take the path of least resistance.

Sometimes I run for pure joy.  Other times, though, I run because I don’t like some aspect of myself spiritually or physically.  Sometimes the problems of the world just seem insurmountable.  Whatever it is that’s bothering me, the pounding of my feet seems to beat it out of me.  The sweat from my efforts purifies both body and mind.

I run as a form of prayer.  This land is my home, and I wish to be a part of it - to become one with the landscape.  I mimic the deer as I skip down the steep, rocky slope.  I leap like the birds that dart through the air.  I feel a renewed sense of purpose and I am energized by the land.  I know that when I return home, tired and sweaty, I will feel better, and that things will be clearer.  Perhaps, in a small way, I am  reborn each time.

Preserving Our Heritage with Blue Corn Cornbread

I’ve been on a corn kick lately with my cooking, and have enjoyed creating my own versions of several traditional dishes.  I’ve made tacos, tamales for Christmas Eve, and even tried my hand at making pupusas for the first time.

The staple grain of the Americas, corn has sustained life on this continent for thousands of years.  Invented by my Mexican ancestors, cooking with corn reaffirms my ties to this continent, and makes me feel truly American.

While the genetic diversity of this sacred grain is threatened, I feel the best way to protect our heritage is to continue practicing it.   It was with this in mind that I’m publishing this blog's first recipe - for my famous Blue Corn Cornbread!

Blue Corn Cornbread

1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup blue cornmeal
1 heaping tablespoon baking powder
1/8 tsp sea salt
1 egg or 1 tbsp arrowroot powder
1-2 tbsp maple syrup or agave nectar
1-2 cups water, milk, or milk substitute

Instructions:

1.  Preheat oven to 400.  Combine dry ingredients in mixing bowl and mix them together.  Feel free to add a dash of cinnamon, pumpkin pie spice, dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, or other ingredients as desired.  If substituting arrowroot powder for egg, combine it now with other dry ingredients.

2.  Add egg (if not using arrowroot or egg substitute), maple syrup and a generous cup of water, milk or milk substitute.  Mix well.  Add more liquid for fluffier cornbread, or less for denser consistency.

3.  Pour mixture into oiled baking tray and bake at 400 for 20 mins.  Remove, let cool, and enjoy!

This cornbread was the center of my family’s meal tonight, accompanied by a black bean dish and tomato and pepper soup.  I hope that you enjoy this recipe, and that it nourishes you for years to come.

Festivals of Light

The older I’ve become, the more I have learned to appreciate each season.  Simple observations of nature reveal the cycles by which humanity was meant to live, and I feel grounded and peaceful when I align myself with each of them.

Following the energetic peak of summer, the energy of the seasons begins to move back downward toward the earth.  While summer is a time when plants are in full bloom and people active outdoors, the late summer is a time when energy begins to subside as we approach the cooler months ahead.

In the Autumn, the downward, gathering nature of the season becomes apparent.  It is a time of harvest festivals, where we gather up and celebrate the year’s bounty.  The leaves on the ground are gathered into piles, and we gather with our families to celebrate Thanksgiving with a nourishing feast.

This condensing trend reaches a peak during the Winter - the coldest and darkest time of year.  Naturally in the winter we become attracted to warmth and light, and seek out emotional and spiritual warmth by coming together with family and friends.  Hearty, slow-cooked meals of soups, stews and root vegetables help us to keep warm and acclimate to the prevailing weather.  Around the time of the winter solstice - the shortest day of the year - the traditions of the season are expressed through various festivals of light.

Of these Autumn and Winter festivals, which include Hanukkah and Diwali, Christmas is the most famous.  It is a time when people gather around the fireplace, sing heart-warming carols, and make cozy their home with holiday decorations.  A lit and decorated Christmas Tree is the most recognizable symbol of the holiday, and Christmas lights adorn our homes.

Many of these traditions date back to pre-Christian times.  In Northern Europe, a yule log was brought into the house and burned to provide warmth and light during the solstice, and the evergreen holly and mistletoe plants were brought inside to celebrate life in a time when many plants were leafless and dormant.

Living in accordance with the seasons helps to keep us in balance with nature, and contributes to health and wellness in our daily lives.  When we observe the holidays, and are in tune with the seasons, we may live more orderly and balanced lives, and experience health and happiness as a result.  We can find greater meaning in our lives this way, and come to understand our place in nature.  So keep your traditions alive - and Merry Christmas!