Author: James David (Page 10 of 20)

Glacier is one of the true gems of the national park system. I thought that after my first visit and I think it with even more conviction after spending a few more days there this week. The vista over Hidden Lake atop Logan Pass is right up there among the best views in the world, something I’ve mentally reinforced through the years by having it as one of the pictures that rotates through the display on my digital picture frame. There are several other lakes too that can be great end points of hikes—a hike up to Iceberg Lake on my prior visit was one of the great hiking days I’ve ever had. The Going to the Sun Road is among the prettiest drives in the world (as long as you aren’t in a hurry). There are high alpine meadows with dots of red, yellow, white, and purple throughout the park. There are bighorn sheep, mountain goats, and grizzly bears to see. On my first trip I also saw a moose but not this time. There are even little pika running around that are closely related to groundhogs but that only live at high altitudes.

I was joined again by my father for this portion of the journey. He couldn’t pass up a quick summer trip to Northwest Montana as he continues to settle into his retirement. I don’t blame him. There are several reasons I chose to be in this part of the country at this time of year. This also gave me the added benefit of being able to take advantage of his lifetime park pass, which for whatever reason costs the same amount as I would have paid for an annual pass.

I did not count on it being as hot as it has been in the afternoons, but during our walk up from the visitor center at Logan Pass to the Hidden Lake overlook we wore long sleeves into a biting wind coming off some of the mountains. That offered some refreshment after a morning drive that started before 6 AM. Quite a few of the days in Kalispell started before 6 AM, a product of the bedrooms in the rental facing eastward without anything approaching a blackout curtain to stop the 5:30 daylight coming through.

It does appear that others are finally catching onto the beauty of Glacier. You have to make vehicle reservations now to enter the various entrances during mornings and early afternoons. This was a new thing for me and the website functioned about as well as I expected a government website to function. I was able to get the reservations I wanted, but the exercise was not without stress.

I’m spending this week in Montana’s Gallatin Valley. I’ve stayed in Bozeman before but only as a waypoint going to and from Yellowstone. I’m enjoying this college town and its surroundings and the respite from the heat I experienced farther south. Yesterday, I took a good long hike, the first of over ten miles I’ve taken in a few years. I did a few warmup hikes over the weekend, but my feet and calves are still sore today. I expected that. Today is a full workday in between meetings with people spread all over the world.

This hike was on an out-and-back trail that goes a little over five miles along a creek up a glacial valley to a high alpine lake. There are also about ten waterfalls along the way with side trails to add to the total distance. I love a waterfall trail so this was a great first long hike in Montana. It won’t be the last while I’m here. All told, I was on the trail for about six and a half hours. Even though it was a Tuesday, I encountered other people though I walked alone.

A few miles before the trailhead, I lost cell service. I know that because my music stopped playing. I didn’t have cell service again until I was on the way back into Bozeman and that gladdened me. I remember a conversation during one of my law school summers when a partner commented that everyone would soon take vacations only to the most remote places in order to escape their phones. For whatever reason (most likely living in fear of my phone while I was a BigLaw associate), that offhand remark has stuck with me. If I could only discipline myself to stop checking my phone at all hours, I’m actually in a position to alleviate that problem now in my own life. I’m not there yet. Yesterday was a nice glimpse into what could be in that regard, though I won’t always need to walk on rocky ground to find that mental freedom.

I’ve been in and around Denver for the last week, and it has offered a brief taste of a life I haven’t had in several years. During my stay I’ve spent some time with one of my good friends from college and his wife and son, a little boy who is just old enough to show off his budding personality. The difference between being among good company and being alone is so stark as to be jarring. I’ve been with people for the last couple of weeks, first family and then friends. That will come to an end tomorrow as I continue northward. I’m sure I’ll reflect on the difference quite a bit over the next stretch of highway miles.

The only other time I’ve visited Denver was actually for their wedding but on that trip I didn’t have a car and so was confined to the downtown area for most of the weekend. This time I’ve been able to move about freely and that has meant more variety in restaurants and breweries. This trip had hailstorms (not as bad as what I drove through in Texas) but none of the rattlesnakes I encountered during my previous stay. I’m not sure how I feel about the city itself. That’s not really why I’m here. Walking through some of the parks was enjoyable though.

One day, after a work session in the morning, I drove into the mountains. From Denver you can see the Rockies but the city itself sits in the leeward plains. I didn’t actually go into the national park—that would’ve required more advance planning this time of year—but driving through and walking under the mountains felt right, especially so after driving across the plains where I’ve always felt a slight unease.

I’ve spent this week in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It’s not as hot here as it was in Texas, especially in the evenings, due to the altitude. The weather has also been calmer than on my drive through west Texas—hailstorms do not make for a pleasant driving experience. The architecture in old Santa Fe is dictated to be the adobe style that is emblematic of the Southwest. I’ll never live in a place with that architecture but there is something pleasing about the consistency of the city’s buildings. Much of the food here is too spicy for my liking. Any level of spicy is too spicy for my liking. I’ve managed to navigate that reasonably well.

Taos was lackluster, its pueblo too obvious of a cash grab for what a visit entailed. The High Road to Taos, though, was the prettiest stretch of road so far on this extended road trip. A great deal of the drive is through juniper forests, but there are also a few vistas from which the bleak expanse of the high country of Northern New Mexico stretches far off towards mountains in the distance. The contrast from last week’s drive is stark.

This week has also been different as I’ve been joined by my parents for this portion of my journey. This has meant a different flow to the day, more time spent during meals, and a few activities that I might have otherwise skipped. I probably still would have visited the Georgia O’Keefe Museum as we did today, but I might have walked in fewer of the art galleries in the city than I have as a result of being with other people. Tradeoffs.

I had an unexpected car commute this morning. I haven’t had a regular car commute since I drove up and down I-75 during my clerkship, a drive that was longer than I would’ve chosen but one that was never stressful. In DC I didn’t even have a car and commuted on the metro. Then once I moved to North Carolina I worked from home so I only faced rush hour traffic by accident when I’d forget what time it was when running an errand.

This morning’s drive was awful. Stop. Go. Stop. Go. Head on a swivel. It was a nice reminder that I want no part of a stressful or lengthy commute. Working from home brings its own challenges—isolation, stir craziness, and difficulty in ending the workday. I think Cal Newport’s construct of working from near home is the ideal. Something like a calm 10-15 minutes, just enough time to allow a mental shift. I’ll still have a home office too, but having somewhere else to go, a workspace that isn’t part of my living space, is a priority after my experience the past few years.

For now I’m on a massive road trip so working and living spaces keep changing and intermixing. This is a post with an eye on the future. Has anyone else adopted a work-from-near-home approach, whether by moving for a shorter commute or moving work out of the house, and discovered positives or negatives that I should consider? Responses welcome.

Live entertainment was the theme this week. I attended two shows, one a honky-tonk style country show and the other a comedy open mic.

The country show was a Friday night affair that bled into the early hours of Saturday. I would have preferred it if the opening act had started before 10 and the headliner before 11:30, but I’m not the one who books such things. If the goal was to wait until the heat had fully subsided, then that was a failure. That only takes place in the early morning hours from now until deep into September in this part of Texas. There were several options throughout the city, but I satisficed with a quick listen on Spotify to make my selection.

The opening act (Leon Majcen) was more enjoyable with his deeper folk sound. I didn’t know any of the lyrics coming in, but he didn’t have a band behind him and so it was just him, his guitar, and his harmonica. I like simple when it comes to live music. The main act (Calder Allen) had a full band and was more rock and roll with a Texas western tinge. I didn’t know the words to his songs either but there were definitely people in the bar who did. I just sat on a barstool and let the music wash over me for a few hours, earplugs in place to take the edge off.

The comedy show was easier to select. I wanted to see a show at Joe Rogan’s new comedy club so I looked to see what show I could attend and only the open mic had tickets available. I trekked over to the craziest part of Sixth Street and watched a rapid fire of comedians on Monday night. A few of them were onto something; most need a lot more work. The staccato of the open mic was followed by more extended sets from those who work as doormen at the club, a job that requires auditioning. A few of them bombed too, but the hit rate was much higher and a few of them were downright hilarious. Comedy is a tough industry. Music is too. I do respect them all for trying. And I’ll keep trying to expose myself to new things as this American sojourn continues.

My personal tour of America has moved into its next phase. I got what I needed from my time in Nashville, even if the result wasn’t perhaps what I’d hoped going into my extended stay. I’ll spend the next couple of weeks in and around Austin, a city where I spent a summer in law school interning in the state solicitor general’s office.

As part of a reorientation drive on my first night, I drove north along Congress Avenue. That is probably the most iconic Austin vantage, with the state capitol building center framed and the city skyline in the middle distance with the river in the foreground. What struck me most was how different it was compared to my memory of it. The image in my mind had the river and the capitol building, sure, and a couple of skyscrapers—the most memorable being roughly shaped like an owl. There were a lot of cranes at that time, more cranes that I’ve ever seen in the United States. Now, there are fewer cranes and all of those buildings that were under construction almost a decade ago are completed. Austin today has a true skyline that extends east to west along the riverfront and stretches northward. The owl tower doesn’t stand out near as much, and Austin already feels than I remember. I expected that, but the visual made the pandemic-era statistics real.

During this stay I get to explore what the city is like now, how it’s changed, what’s the same, and where things might be headed. Dinner last night reminded me of one thing that’s not changed, namely that food doesn’t have to be described as spicy on the menu for it to cause me some problems. Just Texas things.

This week’s column is about another crazy YouTube find I’ve been watching. Previous YouTube mentions in this column have included channels on construction methods and art history. This one is much weirder than that. Hardest Geezer is the name of the channel (LINK). Its protagonist is an Englishman in his mid-20s. Currently, he is attempting to run the entire length of Africa from south to north. Yes, you read that correctly.

Will he make it the whole way to the Mediterranean? I have my doubts. It’s not that he won’t be able to complete the task physically; I actually think that will be possible. No, I think that something external and beyond his control and that of his support team will throw up an insurmountable obstacle. The planned route goes through the jungles of the Congo during the rainy season, to say nothing of multiple combat zones in various places, as it snakes through southern, central, and west Africa. Logistically, a Cape to Cairo route might have been simpler.

The objectives of what he is calling “The Mission Across Africa” are at least two-fold. One is to raise money for charity. One of the charity beneficiaries is a running organization in the UK whose goal is to help bring young people back from the brink by placing them in running groups, groups that provide both a social context and a physical challenge. A second charity is a clean water charity that is more directly relevant to the chosen geography but probably less dear to the protagonist’s own heart. The second objective is to demonstrate that people are capable of doing difficult things. So much of the contemporary world is about increasing comfort and minimizing exertion, yet perhaps this is being taken too far. Maybe people need to exert themselves in order to be fulfilled. I know from experience that doing nothing for more than a couple of days starts me down a path I don’t wish to tread.

The channel’s catchphrase, at least by my reckoning, is “the game’s the game.” It’s shorthand for the idea that what will be will be and you still need to go out and accomplish what you need to accomplish. Catchphrases never distill all the nuances and there are things you can do to make most games easier, but I still appreciate this one since at some point you just have to bear down and do the work.

I’m spending this week and next in Nashville. I’ve visited many times through the years, but the purpose of this visit is different. I’m staying in a different part of the city than where some family lives and deliberately walking around and eating out (including with family) more than I normally would. This is a scouting expedition and while the first of this year it will not be the last. Last year included scouting in Europe, but that was for a place to spend a month. This is about finding a place where I could spend years. Not in the short term, as that is already accounted for, but in the medium term.

It’s a different mindset. I’ve walked through neighborhoods and tried to guess what they will look like in a few years and wondered: would I want to be here? Having contemplated some of my old friends moving as I’ve been with them during the last few weeks, being somewhere where I don’t have to start from zero again is something that has been bouncing around in my head a lot. Nashville is one of those places where I wouldn’t be starting from zero, but the traffic is only getting worse and that doesn’t look like stopping any time soon. I don’t have any answers to any of the questions about where I want to live if given an unconstrained choice, haven’t had any in quite a while. At least now I’m asking those questions with the intention of finding an answer.

For the first time in several years, I attended a youth baseball game on Saturday. It was a chance to watch two of my very favorite people swing a little pink bat and hit ground balls that resulted in infield hits and RBIs. When I was 5 and 6 years old we played tee ball and everyone went station to station in a train until everyone had an at-bat and scored every inning. This was coach pitch, complete with strikeouts and put outs in the field. In further conversation about this change, I was also told that some leagues use a hybrid model where the coach pitches a couple of pitches to each child and if the kid hasn’t hit the ball then they put it on a tee. If I were a league commissioner, I’d probably use the tee as a backup but allow the fielders to actually record outs. Well, when I say field what I actually mean is that the kid who corrals the ball runs to whatever base to try to beat the runner. The only times throws were attempted while the ball was in play were from the pitcher or second baseman to the first baseman. The outfielders also just ran the ball back into the infield. Teaching this isn’t a great lesson to young children about how baseball is played, but it did tamp down on the possibility of Bad News Bears baseball and Little League homeruns.

The worst part of youth sports is overbearing parents, and this game was no exception even if the parents were by and large well-behaved. Most commentary was positive and instructive and all of the negative yelling was from parents directed at their own children. I’m not sure if that is better or worse, but I will say that it isn’t the kid’s fault if you never taught them to run through first base or how to slide into second. Maybe when I’m actually in the position of a father watching my children play I’ll react negatively too. I do thing that the youth coaching I’ve already done should help. Yelling is counterproductive on so many levels. And that applies in more contexts than a children’s baseball game.