Essay: The ultimate L.A. pilgrimage: I walked 89 miles to every Erewhon in town

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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.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 writi...