Copyright Los Angeles Times
The Eaton fire erased a century-old Sierra Madre lodge in January, but not the resolve of its members who held their signature Oktoberfest on Saturday. The rubble cleared and a stage built over the ruins, the 200-member Nature Friends club fired up its biergarten grill with shouts of prost! and raised beer steins. Kids scrambled up rehabbed trails, and some danced the schuhplattler, a Bavarian folk dance with lots of foot stomping and thigh and foot slapping. Nature Friends lodge, built with quaint Bavarian styling by German immigrants in 1923, had been reduced by the fire to heaps of charred timber, twisted metal and broken dishes. Nine months after the destruction, the club was ready for its phoenix moment. “Our members have viewed the fire as a challenge, not a dealbreaker,” said Nature Friends president Jim Angus. “There’s a new sense of opportunity, and even excitement to reimagine the property.” The nonprofit plans to rebuild the three-story lodge in stages as the founders did, preserving its alpine look but adding modern innovations. Fundraising efforts have netted about $140,000. Nature Friends is a branch of Naturfreunde, founded in 1895 by social democrats to enrich the lives of factory workers in Vienna. The parent organization champions ecological and sociopolitical causes and operates 700 lodges worldwide that offer budget accommodations and nature activities. Although dirndl dresses and lederhosen prevailed at Oktoberfest, attended by about 60 people, Nature Friends is not a German social club but rather a haven for lovers of nature, art and culture. “I love Nature Friends because it reminded me of home, north of Tehran — a place called Darband,” said member Lila Ghobady, who hosted Nowruz, the Persian New Year celebration, at the lodge in 2023 in memory of her sister, Fereshteh. Darband, a dreamy mountain village, mirrors the simplicity of canyon life along Woodland Drive, which leads to Nature Friends. The road is lined with stone walls and cottages adorned with flags, painted rocks, wind chimes and gnomes — a mini Topanga Canyon anchored by Mary’s Market, a 103-year-old eclectic diner and country store. Ghobady said Nature Friends recalls her free-spirited teenage days in Darband when, with friends, she’d escape strict dress code laws. “We’d take off our hijabs, eat great food, party together,” she said. “Nature Friends has the same kind of rich Persian culture, a community that celebrates life, nature and beauty.” Wielding a sledgehammer to help clear the wreckage of the lodge in February, I found remnants of that community that the fire had spared: an iron triangle we struck before community dinners, a coffee cup I drank from after all-night revelries with friends, and a handprint pressed into cement by a long-ago member. Countless acts of love had gone into maintaining and beautifying the lodge. As a 30-year member and past president, I’ve watched the organization evolve into a hub for diverse groups, some nonconformist: drum circles, shamanic trainings, sweat lodges, yoga retreats, sound baths, ecological lectures and the Body Electric School, founded in San Francisco during the 1980s AIDS epidemic to teach Taoist and Tantric massage. But long before the blaze, the lodge had already reinvented itself several times. On the surface, the organization offers potlucks, movie nights and holiday gatherings open to all. But dig deeper, and what Angus calls the club’s “hidden history” emerges. “We’ve never been quite what we appear,” he said. The club had been largely an expatriate German club that also had Jewish members. That began to change in the early 1990s. “We brought in friends — a gay element and free spirits,” said Bruce Anderson, whose house opposite Nature Friends was spared in the fire. His husband, Cuban-born Ken Symington, became Nature Friends’ caretaker in 1993, a post he retained until his death at age 90 in 2022. Symington was a mentor to hundreds of seekers who gathered at the lodge for events and concerts. He also became the engine that kept the club solvent and thriving, partly by offering the property as a wedding venue. After I met Symington, he invited me and others to co-found the Invisible Theater. Starting in 1998, our troupe of 30 held a decade of annual performances, an underground happening exploring themes of masculinity. It was a rare collaboration that deeply connected our tribe through art, play and free expression. After Symington’s death, the club began yet another reinvention. Zak Clark, the new caretaker, whose bunkhouse on the property later survived the fire, attracted younger members and encouraged hands-on involvement. “We’re stressing the importance of volunteering, and people are loving it,” said Clark. “They want to work with their hands and feel a sense of ownership, just like the immigrants who founded the club.” Two dozen volunteers have worked to make the property usable for outdoor events. Retired contractor Darrell Goodwin, who lives down the canyon, built the 750-square-foot stage and will head the building’s volunteer-led reconstruction. His wife Heidi Goodwin and her family have been Nature Friends regulars since the early 1960s, when their German emigrant father Benno Werstein joined. “It was so heavy to see it burned down — all that time and love we’d poured into the building,” said Lori Werstein, Heidi Goodwin’s sister. Months before the fire, she and her mother Barbara Werstein created Bavarian decor for the lodge’s facade — faux shutters, flower boxes and door and window trim. Undaunted, Werstein crafted new alpine touches that adorn the ruins’ newly painted concrete walls. The Eaton fire destroyed more than 9,400 structures, most of them in Altadena; Sierra Madre was not as severely hit. For members, the fire was only the first in what Clark called a “trifecta of horribleness.” Winter downpours brought a torrential river cascading down Yucca Trail, which lies between the leveled lodge and the bunkhouse. Mudslides followed, burying parts of the property under four feet of sludge. Next came the bears, breaking into Clark’s cottage multiple times, ravaging cabinets and the refrigerator; it has since been bear-proofed. By early summer, the cleanup was showing results. The club’s rehab effort centers on expanding its nonprofit status. A new foundation is dedicated to restoration, education and outreach. “The fire gave us permission, or perhaps a mandate, to evolve,” said Angus, who plans to establish family and scouting programs and conservation internships. Member Jeff Cain grabbed the opportunity to reimagine the surrounding slopes. After clearing swaths of torched aloe plants, he trenched in about 500 native plants that he said “will look spectacular in a few years.” At Oktoberfest, I got roped into a schuhplattler dance contest, losing badly to 6-year-old Lionel Gaimari. (The dance troupe Die Gemütlichen Schuhplattler performed at no cost). The winning times of a stein-holding contest (mugs of water held out with straight arms), clocked at 5 minutes, 57 seconds for the women’s group and 7 minutes, 20 seconds for the men’s. We dug into the potluck, enjoying member Michael Swain’s makeshift band playing classic rock. Lead singer Maggie Moran is no stranger to fire risk. Her nearby business, Adams’ Pack Station, which does donkey supply runs to historic cabins, was financially hit during the 2020 Bobcat fire. “She came out to support us, and we’ve done the same,” Clark said. “We’re all super-vulnerable to fire in these parts — we stick close and help each other.”
