Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Cataract trail and hiking on Mt. Tamalpais

Ahhh, Indian summer it is the beautiful SF North Bay!  80 degree balmy weather, perfect for long hikes and fires in the evening.  I found myself on an amazingly long and satisfying hike on Mount Tamalpais yesterday.  Officially known as the MMWD (Marin Municipal Water District), the hills behind Fairfax and the roads leading up to the top of Tam can make you feel like you're in the Sierra Nevadas.  Throw in heavy winter rains and waterfalls,  in springtime you'll feel like you're near Hanalei Bay (sans the palm trees of course), but with plenty of ferns and foliage to challenge, and if you squint they could be ironwoods instead of douglas firs.  Beauty is beauty, anyway you slice it.


Parking at the hairpin turn about 1/2 mile from the dam that crosses the Fairfax-Bolinas Road, the Cataract Falls trailhead is right across the road.  Be prepared for some serious stairs and sweating as you make your way up the creek to the top and Laurel Dell, a picnic and nice resting spot. Douglas fir, huge redwoods, waterfalls and ferns dotted our way up the trail.  We didn't want to rest too long though, as it had taken us about 50 minutes at a good clip to get to this point (about 1.4 miles straight up).  We still had a long way to go...

Planning on a loop, we cruised up easy Laurel Dell (fire road) (1.2 miles) and then picked up the Kent trail just beyond the Potrero Meadow picnic area.  Beautiful oaks and more evergreens shaded our walk.  We remarked that it would be a great hike for one of those scorching hot summer days when you need to get your exercise on, but know its too hot to be in the sun for long.

Groves of oak, laurel and more evergreen dot the higher slopes overlooking Bon Tempe and Alpine Lakes with great views of of the foothills of central Marin County and the northern reaches of the SF Bay.   As we made our way down the dusty trail, we couldn't help but marvel at the amazingly huge manzanita forests surrounding us. Thickets of burgundy polished manzanitas, 6 - 8' high, larger than I've ever seen, blanketed the hillside, offering speckled shade and an interesting backdrop for the hike downhill that eventually spilled out onto mosquito laden creeks, so still, that moss covered the surface of the water.  Huge pine trees now studded the hillside, forest floor full of needles, droppings and soft, dusty earth.  Madrones stood in the shadows.  Beautiful chestnut pods littered one area.  I didn't realize what they were, but picked up a few as their sharp beauty somehow signified October, and I imagined a place on my autumn hearth for them.  Little did I know these were the edible variety, and now kick myself, as the hike back to that spot would take well over two hours.  

Kent trail took quite a while (2.5 miles), and we had to trust our map as we wound down the mountain and out onto the shore of Alpine Lake.  From there we picked up the Helen Markt trail.  I don't think we were prepared for the steep series of uphill switchbacks that seemed to go on and on (for 1.7 miles to be exact).  By that point, the sun was sinking behind the hills, and only ambient daylight remained.  We were happy to finally reconnect with the cataract trail, which provided a familiar yet not unchallenging downhill trek (for 1/2 mile) back to our car.  All said, this hike took about 3.5 hours.  I would do it again in a heartbeat, but next time (which I hope is soon) I will take some heavy gloves for collecting the natural beauty of the chestnuts, and roast the prickles off of their pods in my hearth back home.



Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Miner's lettuce, not just for miners!

Ahhh, Spring already?  It's only January, but we've been having unseasonally warm weather, balmy high 60's, almost nice enough to pull out the bathing suit - well, almost.  On a recent hike out in beautiful Point Reyes, it seemed an odd juxtaposition to see wild strawberries starting to leaf out and Irises already
in bloom next to mushrooms pushing their heads out from underneath pine needle laden forest floors.  All and all, not that unusual, this little sneak preview of Spring.  When the Trillium start to leaf will be the real test to whether it will be early this year. 


Claytonia perfoliata, Miner's Lettuce, sharing space
with a young Milk Thistle sprout.

For me, one of the best features of this time of the year is Winter Purslane (Claytonia perfoliata) commonly known as Miner's lettuce.  These wonderful kidney shaped leafy greens are loaded with vitamins C & A, and purportedly saved the California gold miners from scurvy way back when.  I've known about this herb for a long time, and even knew it was edible, but had actually never tried it, that is, until last week. 

I know, being into plants and all, how weird it is that I'd never tried this wonderful herb, and so dived right in when my hiking partner Suzanne bent down and grabbed a handful, chomping it down right there on the trail.  I figured, why the hell not.  So I followed suit and was pleasantly surprised how mild and delicate the leaves were, not too grassy, more spinach-like than anything, really.  Pristine first of the season leaves are the mildest and the best (as is with most veggies, wouldn't you agree?).   There was also a butter lettuce quality to their taste as well.  Dressed with a light vinaigrette and tossed in with other salad greens, there is no way your dinner guests would suspect you didn't get them at the local Whole Foods;  I can keep a secret if you can!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Milk Thistle (Silybum marianum) - thorny goodness

As I said in my last (um first) post, daily hikes in the hills behind my house have become a ritual of mild chatter between me and familiar plant friends, and a curious hello between me and the unfamiliar.  Pictured above is a bowl of Milk Thistle flower heads, "gone to seed" as they say, and one of my old favorites because of its excellent use in overall prevention and maintenance, specifically for our delicate livers.  Are you an artist working with oil paints and turpentine?  This herb's for you.  Pretty much any regular exposure to volatile substances (nail salons, industrial noxious fumes, the aforementioned turpentine, gasoline, daily society, alcohol...  yes, your daily dose) would indicate Milk Thistle Seed as the herb to support your body.  Everything gets filtered through the liver, so supporting the liver is a good place to start and this mild seed does just that.  S. marianum incidentally is the only antidote for deathcap mushroom poisoning.  What, you may ask?  Amanita phalloides, commonly known as the Death Cap mushroom, are unfortunately picked and ingested by inexperienced mushroom hunters every year.  You probably recall at least once reading about some unfortunate family, all with differing levels of liver failure, suffering and possibly even expiring due to a meal including these deadly funghi.  Every time I read one of those stories, I call the hospital, "get thee thy Milk Thistle" (well no, I don't really use Old English, but it does seem slightly apropo, don't you think?).  There are standardized extractions of Milk Thistle widely available in Europe (as in Europe, Germany especially, herbal medicine is a tried and true part of everyday life).  Last I heard, the FDA has a few vials of the "mysterious" extract on hand that has to be Fedex'd  to the hospital in need.  If you think that sounds preposterous, it is...but true.  It would be good for our local Poison Control Centers to take note.  But then again, who the hell am I and what do I know???

Also, on a side note, an old friend who goes by the name of "T-Bone" was once in the hospital with a severe case of flesh eating bacteria.  Yes, THE flesh eating bacteria.  He came close to death many times but eventually pulled out of it.  Unfortunately though, his liver functions were so overloaded with dealing with the bacteria and probably all of the stuff they were giving him to kill the nasty bug, that they refused to take him out of ICU until his functions were back to normal.  I had given him a small jar of my beloved seed a few days before.  He called me and asked me how many to take.  He swears to me that he chewed up about 10 seeds once or twice a day, and within 2 days his liver was back within normal range.  Of course the doctors didn't believe it had anything to do with the Milk Thistle, and perhaps it didn't, but I can assure you those seeds did no harm.

The season for harvesting these amazing seeds just began in my neck of the woods (Southern Sonoma County)and will last through the summer.  Just last year when I still lived in Sausalito, a "volunteer" Milk Thistle started up right outside my kitchen door, pushing its way through the visqueen and bark designed to keep weeds at bay.  That is how tenacious this plant is.  Of course, I was thrilled my "friend" had come along to provide a convenient source, as I got a few hundred seeds off of just one plant.  Every now and then I pop a few into my mouth, as they are very edible with a mild taste, not overpowering.   The Jepson Guide to California plants lists the seed as a coffee substitute.  Who woulda thunk it?  (by the way, a wonderful guide to see the natural distribution and description of hundreds of California plant species). I bet if you live somewhere on the west side of California, they are all over your hills too.  Look for disturbed soil areas,  hot hillsides running next to streams, old agricultural land; generally, areas closer to the effects of humankind.    As with many useful medicinal and edible herbs, Milk thistle is one of the more invasive, a "Class A" weed as they like to call it.  In some areas (i.e. King County)  its eradication is required, as its leaves contain potassium nitrates which break down in ruminants' stomachs (i.e. cows and sheep), creating a hemoglobin blocking molecule.  Needless to say, anything blocking hemoglobin  is NO BUENO, as it will starve cells of oxygen.  However, don't you worry, because we humans only use the seed to treat our ails.  Plus, just a mention, last time I checked we aren't ruminants, so the bacteria we have in our stomachs aren't quite like the cellulose breaking bacteria of a cow or a sheep. 

Okay, back to more pleasant subjects. Those sweet little tufts you see in the photograph on the right,  they are currently blowing all over my house, through the living room and into the bedroom. Designed by nature to disperse the seeds on the wind (much like a dandelion and many other flowers), these tufts readily detach from their 1/4" long seeds. After a week or so of fully drying, the seed is ready for use. 
You may notice if you buy Milk Thistle seeds in your local health food store (WF or the like) that they are greyish brown and not dark black.  Hmmm, I've always found this unappealing, like they have been irradiated and bleached or are old or something.  I'm sure they are fine, but I'd much rather wildcraft my own.  Speaking of which, I haven't mentioned that a pair of leather welding gloves are probably the tool of choice for breaking up the flower heads to release the seeds deep inside.  Harvesting is fairly easy, as you can cut the flower heads directly into a bag (to avoid handling).  Tugging at the tufts will release some seeds (as most of their bases are still attached to the head of the flower).  I usually use a pair of tweezers to get the seeds from the margins near the calyx, but Michael Moore suggests putting the flowers briefly in a blender, which I haven't tried.  I'm sure many things have been invented to separate these things, and you will find your own method.    Some herbal sources say to make a tincture, which usually involves alcohol and some glycerin.  This seems slightly oxymoronic, to make a tincture with alcohol of an herb used to treat problems related to alcohol ingestion.  So, I recommend grinding them up in a spice grinder, putting the powder into capsules.  Yes, that sounds tedious, I know.  All I do is eat them whole, crunch, crunch, crunch.  As I said, they are pretty mild and just little "hull-ey".

Here is a photo of a young plant from a few months back (left). Many other thistles (some of which have their own medicinal properties) may be growing nearby, but this one is unmistakable. Look for broad shiny leaves with the telltale white milky variegation running through them, spiky thorns along the leaf margins, and showy (1-2" across) purple blooms, much like an artichoke, and ringed with more of those thorns.  In blossom they will be growing well overhead (well, over this 5'2" chicka's head!). At harvest time, those purple blossoms open wide as the petals of the complex flower turn into little beige parachutes designed to launch the tenacious little seeds nestled below.  If it doesn't have the white veins and shiny leaves, It ain't the right plant. 

Here is a small stand I harvested from just the other day.  Oh, and a word about harvesting.  If you find a wild edible plant that you would like to eat, use for medicine etc, look around for more plants.  It goes without saying one would never want to rape the land of a rare species unknowingly.  If there are lots of the plants around, please only harvest about 1/4 of them, as this will ensure propagation for another successful harvest next year, not to mention, viewing pleasure for the mostly non-herbalist hikers and exercisers that walk in our midsts.


Friday, June 11, 2010

Turning over a new leaf...

Well, not really so new.  Herbalism has been alive and well in my world for many years.  As I continued my tasteebites.blogspot.com from my new locale in Petaluma (Sonoma County), I couldn't help but notice I was leaving a lot out (which explains why my posts have been few and far between).    I found myself wanting to write about the Red Clover I harvested from the pristine hills behind my house, and the Wild Oats that kept calling out to me, the Amole Lily sprawling amidst the grasses; and just yesterday, the first ripe Milk Thistle of the year. 

So, welcome to my new blog, a glimpse into another part of my world, a part that at times will intersect with the food and drink; as plants, medicine, food, drink are all one in the same, right?  But first, here's a little background so you realize I haven't completely turned "hippy" on you.

I started my foray into herbal medicine many years ago after graduating from U.C. Berkeley with a degree in Biology.  Western medicine had always seemed so limited and reductionistic to me: the proverbial "magic bullet" approach of treating disease and ails as if they could be conquered and destroyed, as if they weren't a symptom of a greater imbalance, but existing as separate entities from the whole of our bodies'.  Western medicine doesn't speak to pre-disease processes, constitutional imbalances that if left unnoticed, uncharted, may result in a full blown case of fill-in-the-blank.

I'm not saying there is not a place for western medicine.  We would be screwed without emergency rooms, epi-pens, bone splints and the like.  There is another world out there though, a gentler, more fragrant, and more subtle way to approach most ails.  There is room for both.

After working in restaurants for many years, commuting to the city, dealing with customers whose knowledge of herbs consists of the cleavers they are picking out of their trail running shoes, or the welts they have on their calves after biking too close to a stand of wild nettles, I am relieved to be reawakened to my original self around like-minded individuals who don't balk at the idea of using herbs to alleviate mild ails or support our stressed out bodies and minds. 

As with all writings about herbalism and herbal medicine, I caution against using my ramblings as medical advise.  Before I ingest an herb or use it in a potion or tincture, I research its uses on the internet and in herbal manuals that I own.  I use my intuition as a guide.   I am not a medical doctor, nor purport to know all the ins and outs of each herbal constituent, nor contraindications with other herbs and western medicines.  Herbal medicine is not a replacement for traditional therapies for full blown disease processes, but a gentle means to coax our bodies' into balance, mediate and provide comfort for mild illnesses that come up every now and again.

My main reference source for western herbalism comes from the incredible writings of Michael Moore in his numerous books which include:  Medicinal Plants of the Pacific West, Medicine Plants of the Mountain West, Medicine Plants of the Desert and Canyon West (all from Museum of New Mexico Press).   Mr. Moore (who I never met by the way) died in February 2009, but his teachings live on through his many proteges.  Here in the SF Bay Area, Adam Seller at the Pacific School of Herbal Medicine in Oakland is a fountain of knowledge and responsible for my plunge into the world of western herbalism back in the mid 1990's.  Having a background in science and medicine myself, these two individuals resonate with me, as their deep knowledge of physiological workings of the body gives me a corporeal foundation from which I can then explore the magic and spirituality of these wonderful plants.