A Conversation

“So there’s this blog that I sometimes read.”

“Really? People still write blogs?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Imagine that.”

“Anyway, this one is normally updated weekly, but it’s been about two weeks since the last posting.”

“Good heavens! Do you think it’s a government conspiracy?”

“Hilarious, but no. I’m just wondering what happened? It feels like I’ve been sort of abandoned. I mean, this author was like clockwork.”

“You mean always posting, like he was desperately crying out for any attention he could get?”

“You could say that.”

“You sound very attached to this blog. Is it funny?”

"Well, the author thinks he’s funny, and that's sort of amusing.”

“And now your life has been shattered by the lack of updates?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, maybe he has a good excuse for not updating it.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe he realized he wasn’t funny.”

“I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

“Then maybe he got a cold.”

“A cold?”

“Yeah, a cold. You know how it is: You get a cold but you still go to work because it’s not worth taking any time off. Then you spend several days in your cubicle coughing up a lung all over your keyboard and generally annoying everybody within a fifty foot radius, all while accomplishing very little in terms of actual work. When you get home at night, you basically collapse into a heap without the energy to do anything except watch reruns of Cheers on Netflix.”

“Oh yeah! And then your voice drops several octaves until you can really nail the ‘Giddyup, oom poppa, oom poppa, mow mow’ part of the song Elvira!”

“Yup. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“You’re right! Maybe that’s what happened to that blogger! And maybe now he’s finally starting to feel better and is desperately trying to come up with something to post!”

“Maybe.”

“Wow! I feel much better! I was worried he fell down an open manhole or something.”

“I guess it’s still a possibility.”

“I’d better go check for an update! He said he was going to write about Bear Jams!”

“Bear Jams?”

“Yup.”

“There’s no way that could be any good.”

“Deep down, I think I know that.”

Glacier Highlights

I have returned from Glacier National Park! Rather than bore you with the gritty details, which I’m much too lazy to write about, I’m going to instead compile a short list of the trip’s highlights, which will be determined using the rigorous scientific selection method of writing down whatever pops into my mind over the next few minutes. Sounds good? Then here we go…

The Day of Eighty Wardrobe Changes: The second hike of the trip was during a windy, rainy day. The rain was intermittent, to the point where it was basically toying with us. It would start to rain, and the rain gear would come out. It would stop raining, and the rain gear would be packed away, since it’s so hot and heavy. Repeat several dozen times or so until you’re pretty certain that somewhere along the line you did something to really tick off Mother Nature.

Going to the Sun Road: It was a wonderful drive, assuming you love sitting in construction and you don’t mind the majestic view of thick, impenetrable fog.

The Sunburn: After several cloudy days, the sun finally came out in full force. I neglected to consider this important meteorological change and went into the next hike wearing a bandana and no sunscreen. The result was that at the end of day, my head resembled a mismatched plastic Easter egg; its cover white and the rest deep red. And no, I did not take any pictures of this.

The Jim Leyland Lookalike: We were hiking the Highline Trail, moving along at a pretty good clip, when out of nowhere this old guy caught up to us. He was eerily reminiscent of Jim Leyland, complete with the sunglasses and moustache, except he seemed much less likely to keep putting Ryan Rayburn into the starting lineup, in the hopes that he might “run into one,” and much more likely to hike along the continental divide for several weeks at a time, wrestling mountain goats into submission for the sheer sport of it. Yup, he was a tough old coot, giving hope to anybody over the age of fifty-five who wants to enjoy an active lifestyle. After chatting with us briefly, he sped off and left us behind in a cloud of dust. This is the only picture I got of him. Somehow, it seems appropriate.

Johnson’s of St. Mary: If you’re ever in St. Mary, located on the eastern side of the park, and you need a place to eat, then stop at Johnson’s. They play nothing but old school country music. They have phenomenal homemade bread. They display customer sign in/comment sheets from the 70’s up until the present at the tables. They have excellent soup. They sell something called Ice Cream Pie, which weighs about fifty pounds and is as big as a mature pumpkin. It’s worth going there just to see the eyes of somebody when it’s placed down in front of them at their table. Their expression is basically one of I-think-I'm-in-heaven-even-though-there’s-no-way-I’m-eating-all-of-this-without-getting-a-stomach-ache-that’ll-last-for-roughly-a-week-and-possibly-dying.

Huckleberry Everything: Huckleberries are pushed everywhere in the park: huckleberry soda, huckleberry jelly beans, huckleberry stuffed French toast, huckleberry ice cream, huckleberry t-bone steak, etc.

Bear Jams: More on that later, assuming I remember to write it.

The Polite Bighorn Sheep: It was patiently waiting for a turn at the outhouse:

"Hey, I'm next in line, buddy!"



Learning that bear bells have an approximate operating radius of three feet: This was done through a scientific process consisting of us constantly not hearing other hikers’ bear bells until they were right up in our proverbial grills. So as long as you don’t mind a bear not being able to hear you until you’re basically sitting on its dinner plate, bear bells are a wise purchase. In addition, they are also incredibly annoying, making it sound like Santa Claus is perpetually coming to town. Even if they were effective, I’d rather be eaten by a bear than hike in a group with somebody wearing them.

This sign:

This Realization: No matter how good the trail mix tastes for the first three-quarters of the trip, there still comes a time when you instantly begin to hate it and simply can’t eat another bite.

The official group photo for the trip:

 

Oh right, and some OK scenery:

Minimalist Planning

Preparation for any vacation adventure is key. Too much preparation, however, may be worse than none at all. An adventure where every single minute is planned out and packed for seems to me to be less of an adventure and more of a transfer of life’s daily grind over to one of the few occasions where it isn’t needed.

What you need to do is minimalist planning, which is just enough to get you by, and more than enough to keep things interesting. ("Money! I should have planned to bring money!")

For example, I’m about to head to Glacier National Park for a week or so. I know how and when I’ll get there, and how and when I’ll leave. I’ve even got places to sleep lined up, which might even be going a bit too far on the planning front. Beyond that, however, it’s kind of all up in the air. That’s minimalist planning. Anything less, such as not picking an actual destination, could be a bit of a problem. Any more would be too constricting. (“Yeegads, it’s already 8:47! We’re supposed to be done with breakfast by now! Code Red! Code Red! The day’s in shambles! Our only hope is to bump our average traveling speed up to 62 miles per hour and skip Bathroom Break Number Three! Nobody drink anything! It’s time to exercise contingency plan Bladder Control! Now let’s get moving!! I've got charts and graphs to update!!”)

Additionally, a non-minimalist would have purchased a book on the park and read it cover to cover. I bought a book, but I’ve barely looked at it. It has lots of pages and seems kind of boring, at least more boring that the alternative of reading about Jack Reacher as he dispenses his own brand of vigilante justice on those who deserve it most.

A non-minimalist would also have purchased a detailed map of the park and scoured every detail of it, picking out the best looking hiking trails and planning routes. I bought a map but I haven’t been inspired to study it very much. There’ll be plenty of time for that on the plane, assuming I’m not listening to Gunsmoke on my iPod.

A non-minimalist would have initiated an exercise and nutritional program months ago to get into shape so that the sudden immersion into Hike Uphill All Day Mode won’t destroy them. I found my hiking boots and made sure they still fit.

A non-minimalist would have created various lists to help with packing, and they would have started that task weeks ago, making certain that almost every contingency is planned for. My packing will consist of the Fixed Volume Approach. I have one piece of luggage and a carry on. The day before I leave, I’ll start filling them up with the items I consider to be the most important, based solely on my priorities at that very moment. When I run out of room, I’m done. Will underwear make the cut? Will I bring nothing but peanut butter because I was hungry during packing? We’ll just have to see…

Once I get there, how will I fill my time? Well, that’ll all work itself out soon enough. I assume there will be lots of hiking up to high places, admiring the view for a while, hiking back, and then celebrating with a meal. What more planning could possibly be needed?

Do I have any specific goals for this trip? I dunno…to not get caught in a stampede of mountain goats would be one, assuming that mountain goats actually stampede on occasion. Beyond that, though, not really. A goal seems like a metric, and a metric seems like something you can get evaluated on, and something you can get evaluated on seems like work, and work seems like something I’d rather not do while trying to embark on an adventure.

I could go on, but I think I’ll cut this short, which is to say I never planned on how to end this entry in a smooth fashion.