happened

The idea grew as organically as the purple cauliflower at Erewhon. One day, I walked from my place in Los Feliz to the beach. I stopped at two Erewhon locations on the way to refuel. I made a reel about my journey and posted it to Instagram. My friend Fish saw it and said, “You should walk to all the Erewhons.”

I thought: I don’t have time to do that. I’m a very serious person who needs to write her novel.

But later I found myself mapping out an 89-mile hike in my Notes App, starting in Pasadena and ending in Calabasas, stopping at all 10 Erewhon locations on the way. (My route did not include the Palisades, which is closed because of the fires; nor did it include LACMA or the new Glendale locale.)

“I need to write my novel” is a thought I have a lot. I usually heed this thought and sit at the desk like a soldier, imagining the wonderful day when I’ll sell said novel — for an amount that would probably be comparable to a fraction of an Erewhon employee’s yearly salary.

Erewhon Trail map illustration by Swan Huntley.

(Erewhon Trail map illustration by Swan Huntley. )

I really wasn’t in the mood to write the novel, though. When I imagined myself pecking away at the keyboard, I felt bad. When I imagined myself walking around L.A. in my Home Depot gardening hat, I felt good. So, I put on my hat, got into an Uber headed for Pasadena, and texted my sister, “Carpe diem, bitch.” Or at least that was my intention. What I actually sent was, “Carpet diem hitch.”

Over the summer, I hiked a little bit of the Pacific Crest Trail. A few years ago, I biked the Camino in Spain. I’ve walked from Los Feliz to the beach a handful of times. I’ve traversed the length of Manhattan thrice. Before that, when I was a teenager, I used to trek from La Jolla to Del Mar while drinking beer (I carried a cooler; yes, I’m sober now) and listening to Sarah McLachlan on my Discman. I’ve always been drawn to activities that many people find tedious. Like walking forever. Or writing a novel.

Starting in the fourth century, pilgrimages were served up by the church as a way for Christians to pay penance for their sins. They were hard and dangerous and a lot of people died. Fast-forward to now: Such treks have taken on an “Eat, Pray, Love” aura. Or a “Wild “ aura. They live in the realm of self-help and of sport. They’re a way to create friction in an increasingly frictionless world. By walking from Mexico to Canada, or from Erewhon to Erewhon, I wonder whether we’re trying to get back to the part of ourselves that wants to try harder.

Or we just want to become more valuable dinner party guests.

What do you do?

I do really long walks.

I ordered a Goddess Smoothie in Pasadena, and then I repeated this tradition at every store thereafter. The smoothie costs $19, tastes like heaven, and it’s green, which my brain reads as “good for me.”

It took me a little over three hours to walk 11 miles to Silver Lake. I got a Vegan Avocado Sandwich for lunch, took an Uber home and posted a reel on Instagram about my first day on the trail. A lot of people liked it. Some of them called me a genius.

In the last 10 years, I’ve published four novels and two illustrated books for adults. I was naïve and just totally blindly happy about the publishing process in the beginning. People wanted to buy my work? Other people wanted to read it? Cool.

The first book, “We Could Be Beautiful,” did well because the publisher put real money into the marketing of it. Then that stopped happening. At a certain point, I realized that expecting too much was unwise. It was up to me to market my books myself. Which meant: social media.

They say you have to see a book cover six times before you buy the book — or consider buying it. There are a lot of book covers on Instagram. Actually, there’s a lot of everything on Instagram, and out of all the everything, is a book cover that exciting?

No.

My second reel, which depicted my journey from Silver Lake to Studio City, went a little bit viral. To date, almost 10,000 people have shared it with their friends. Why? I think the answer has something to do with a desire for levity.

If the atmosphere of the world could be depicted by an Erewhon beverage, it wouldn’t be a vibrant, cheerful one, like the bright magenta Pitaya Smoothie. It would be the dark and brooding Germ Warfare Shot. I find it perplexing that people talk about the apocalypse as if it’s happening later. It’s happening now. If we were really thinking about how climate change is affecting us, we’d be out in the streets screaming. All the time. But we’re not doing that. We’re carrying on with our usual lives. Apparently, for me, that includes walking to Erewhons.

Any long-distance trek is as much an internal journey as it is external. As I continued the trail, I started to think that maybe my endeavor was a reaction to my feeling of total powerlessness. I can’t save the polar bears. I can’t force the president to go to therapy. But I can add some levity to the brooding atmosphere.

Recently, someone commented on one of the reels, “Transplants make LA locals look bad.” This person, and many others, hear the name Erewhon and assume I’m poking fun at it. Erewhon has become a joke about L.A. — a joke that was amplified after Hailey Bieber invented her smoothie in 2022 that Erewhon dubs the “Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie.” I’ve never had it, but I can tell you that it looks like a sky full of strawberry clouds. According to an Erewhon employee I spoke to, this smoothie was a turning point. It aligned the brand with wealth and power. Now, Erewhon evokes the image of smooth-skinned, health-conscious Angelenos with money to burn.

The Erewhon Trail, then, inevitably becomes a conversation about privilege, my own included. Instagram hid my two favorite comments, because it was worried they’d be too rude to show, but I think they’re the funniest ones.

This is what white people do on Prozac.

This is what happens when a liberal arts teacher gets fired.

To both of these comments, I say: Yes.

I’m not on Prozac yet, but maybe after I get fired, I will be.

In order to get fired, though, I’d have to get an actual job, which might never happen.

The most intense leg of the trail was from Santa Monica to Calabasas. My friend Fish joined me. Google said it would take 27 miles. After marching through the mountains, I decided to use my own intelligence to make the route shorter. This cut out four miles, bringing the total to 23. For long stretches, Fish and I walked in the bike lane, or in the bramble by the side of the road. That’s the penalty for straying from Google. Your sidewalks disappear and your chances of getting hit by a car go way up.

My legs were noodles by the time we got to Calabasas. I crawled across the parking lot to show my viewers how weak they’d become. The employee at the door smiled at me and handed me a basket, and I thought about the pain of my legs, which no one could see, and about all the secret battles people are fighting all the time, and I wished that we cared about each other as much as Erewhon cares about us. Multiple employees were perfecting the already-perfect plateaus of bell peppers and apples in the produce section. Their thoughtfulness was the opposite of the vibe I encounter in most public restrooms, which is that the strangers who were there before me didn’t have many thoughts about my experience. As lame as the fact that an Erewhon smoothie costs $19 is that so many of us need to be paid to be nice to each other.

When I tell people about my love for Erewhon, they either say, “Duh, I know,” or something along the lines of, “That place is ridiculous, right?” This is almost always followed by the mention of a food item and some amount of money. Like, “Doesn’t a carrot cost $12,000?”

Actually, I tell them, no. Although sometimes, yes. There is a Japanese strawberry that’s famously expensive ($20), but that’s avoidable. I then explain that contrary to popular thought, there is a way to shop at Erewhon on a budget. A jar of soup, for example, costs $15.50. If you return the bottle, you get $3 back. In my opinion, the soup can be two meals, so that’s $6.25 per meal. A lot of the produce is either the same price or only a little bit more expensive than at other health food stores, and it’s in consistently better shape. The most important piece of making Erewhon more affordable, though, is becoming a member. You get 10% off, a free drink of the month and discounts on a bunch of items.

You might be wondering: How many Erewhon memberships has she personally sold?

She’s lost count.

The other reason to go to Erewhon is the environment. It’s visually appealing and the employee-to-customer ratio is notable, and the result is that you feel like you’re at a resort. And frankly, these simple things — a nice environment, high quality food — should be available to everyone.

Back to the question of whether or not Erewhon is ridiculous — yes, of course it is. If you sit at any of the locations and listen to the conversations around you, you’ll probably feel like you’re an extra in a satirical movie. At Studio City, I overheard two moms in white pants and cashmere sweaters talking about how, based on their Instagram recon, they figured out that so-and-so was sitting next to so-and-so at a benefit dinner. Another snippet I overheard in Studio City: “You gotta make music from the heart, man, and the label will feel it.”

It didn’t occur to me to ask for free merch until after I’d finished the trail. Armando at the Santa Monica location was the lucky recipient of my request. I explained my uniquely heroic feat to him, and then wondered aloud if perhaps I could get a sweatshirt, or at least a hat.

Sadly, Armando was unauthorized to give me merch, but he did offer me a gift card in a tiny envelope. I was very grateful. I assumed the card was worth $50 at least.

After we parted ways, I opened the envelope.

Ten dollars.

Enough to put a down payment on a smoothie.

My dreams now are so different from when I was younger. Back in grad school, I imagined that maybe I’d write a bestselling novel, and maybe it would be adapted for the screen, and maybe my tombstone would read: She contributed very serious literature to civilization.

What I never accounted for was, of course, the unknown. Maybe one day, over a decade after school ended, I’d get a lot of attention for making performance art about walking to grocery stores.

Huntley’s novels include “I Want You More,” “Getting Clean With Stevie Green,” “The Goddesses” and “We Could Be Beautiful.” She’s also the writer/illustrator of the darkly humorous “The Bad Mood Book” and “You’re Grounded: An Anti-Self-Help Book to Calm You the F— Down.” She lives in Los Angeles.

LEWIS Capaldi was forced to halt one of his performances in the US, exclaiming he didn’t know “what the f*** just happened.”

The popular singer, 29, is currently on his Survive Tour after taking some time away from the spotlight to prioritise his mental and physical health.

But during his gig at Red Rocks Park and Amphitheatre he encountered a major technical issue, leaving him unable to sing.

Lewis giggled next to the mic, sharing with the crowd: “Something has happened. Usually I’d be singing by now.

“Something technological has gone wrong. I’m not sure what the f***s happened.”

He then joked: “This feels like… erectile dysfunction in a way,” before checking in with his team to see if the error had been fixed.

COOL NAME

Pupils rename gritter after Lewis Capaldi – can you guess what they called it?

BIFF RIFF

Inside Rolling Stone awards with Lewis Capaldi cameo & Biffy Clyro’s shock move

After learning it hadn’t, Lewis continued to entertain the crowd, saying: “Right, we’re not back. Hi.”

Fans of the musician found the moment hilarious and loved the way he chose to handle it – both with humour and then by deciding to go ahead with an acoustic performance while the tech issue was fixed.

One user on Instagram said: “Who needs all the technology with a voice like that?!?”

A second shared: “It was a once in a lifetime experience and we were very excited to be part of the “technical issue”.

A third added: “Well no one can claim he can’t sing live.”

Lewis’ tour shares the same name as his latest EP release which came out last year.

The new music followed him taking a two-year hiatus from the industry, after his anxiety and Tourette’s syndrome symptoms increased.

After Lewis finishes up his shows in America, he’s due to perform in Vancouver before heading over to the UK.

His first UK tour date is on June 19, taking place at the Isle Of Wight Festival.

The fort was built in the 1890s as part of a series of facilities set up to keep a potential invasion from London. One historian revealed the incredible story behind the site

The UK is full of stunning places to visit, but one particular spot combines breathtaking scenery with a captivating glimpse into the past. A military historian recently explored the location and revealed the remarkable story behind its construction.

Military history specialist Dr Jen Howe shared the tale of Reigate Fort on Instagram. Now under the ownership of the National Trust, the fort was constructed on top of Reigate Hill in Surrey in 1898. And the purpose behind its creation is extraordinary.

According to the National Trust, which manages the site today, the fort was erected to fend off a possible French invasion as part of the London Defence scheme. This comprised a 72-mile network of defences consisting of 13 military installations intended to safeguard the capital. Beyond storing equipment and ammunition, there were also proposals to excavate enormous trenches to keep invading armies at bay from London.

Beginning her Instagram slideshow, Dr Howe remarked: “POV: You stumble into a world of forgotten military history just 30 mins from London.” Detailing the history of Reigate Fort, she continued: “Built in the late 1890s to defend London from a French invasion that never actually came. These buildings held shovels and guns, ready to build one huge trench around London…”

The National Trust notes that, by 1906, it was decided the British Navy possessed sufficient strength to repel any prospective invasion, and Reigate Fort was decommissioned. It was sold the following year. In 1972, it and the other mobilisation centres were designated as Scheduled Ancient Monuments by English Heritage in recognition of their significance to British military history. The site welcomes visitors every day, reports Surrey Live.

Those who visit can view two sets of gates – the first are steel and spiked, while the second are heavier and bulletproof. The tool store and the magazine – where munitions and explosives were once kept – are also on display, along with the underground casemates, which would have served both as storage facilities and as shelter from enemy bombardment.

Dr Howe also drew attention to a nearby memorial dedicated to nine US airmen, who died when the B-17 Flying Fortress they were aboard came down on Reigate Hill in March 1945. “A few metres on and you’ll find a tragic site,” she said.

“On March 19, 1945, nine US airmen were coming home from Germany when their plane went down in a thick cloud. None of them made it.

“They had an average age of 21. The oak wing tips laid out are the exact distance of the aircraft’s tips, and a haunting reminder of what fell here.”

According to the National Trust, the memorial sculpture was crafted by Surrey artist Roger Day, and was unveiled on the 70th anniversary of the crash. Both elements of the memorial are carved from ancient Surrey oak, positioned the same distance apart as the aircraft’s wingtips, with metal salvaged from the crash site incorporated within the sculpture.

Dr Howe also drew attention to another nearby structure. “Just beyond and you’ll find a mysterious WW2 structure,” she said. “Even historians aren’t too sure what it was used for.”

In the caption accompanying her post, she wrote: “40 minutes from London there’s a stretch of the North Downs where, in the space of a single walk, you pass a Victorian fort built to protect London from a French invasion that never came, a mysterious WW2 structure, a clearing where a US bomber crew were killed on their 13th mission together, and a WW2 training ground.

“Reigate is a genuinely beautiful walk, with wide open chalk downland, extraordinary views, ancient woodland. But the hidden military history adds so much to this place. You may not even notice these things if you didn’t know where to look!”