Drove Cross - Country (again)

RAINDROPS ON WILDFLOWERS, BIGFORK MT

I've gotten some (justified) flak from a few people about not keeping my blog updated. Well, To be honest, not much particularly blog-worthy was going on. Until now. So here is the update -- I have some free time in Montana before my field work gets really rolling and I guess I am caving in to peer pressure. So here's what's up:

Last time I posted it was March and I was in Texas. I survived. Now it's June, and I'm in Montana enjoying spring in the northern Rocky Mountains -- we are having a wet one though so the streams are all completely blown and I will have to wait even longer for good fishing -- but there is lots to do in the meantime!

I suppose it would be best to get the basics of what's happened in the last few months nailed down before going into all the little fun stuff with pictures and all. Here is the three-point synopsis:

1) Enjoyed work in Texas, lined up a full-time job for after I finish my degree in MT
2) Had a great drive from TX to MT, spend a bunch of fun time alone in the desert
3) Started field work for my M.Sc. thesis on Flathead Lake in MT, it's goin' good.

Here is the Long version:

TEXAS

HOUSTON RODEO AT NIGHT

My inner workaholic was loving things down in Houston: In addition to working working very full-time for a Fortune 500 company, I completed one and a half college courses online, had two more grants come in for my M.Sc. work, wrote my M. Sc. Thesis proposal and got it approved by the U of MT faculty, managed the U of MT AAPG student chapter from out of town, filed my taxes, had the pleasure of hosting my baby sister and a college friend of hers for a week, and very much enjoyed played a few rounds of golf with an old friend who happens to live in Houston. It seems like I was more or less successful at everything except the golf. I shared a house with a sarcastic old man, we got along great.

My day job down there basically consisted of sitting in front of a bank of computer monitors in a tiny office with no windows lots of floors up in this big corporate-looking office building with glass all over the sides of it. (I did get an opportunity to visit a drilling rig on a gas field north of Houston, which was sweet -- photos here). I had a lots of data to work with, and my project required me to pick up some new skills on the fly, so the learning curve was steep which made me happy. Despite the lack of sunlight I found the work enjoyable and satisfying and was pleased to be able to line up a full-time job with the company for when I finish my M.Sc. work here in Montana. And while I'll admit that the prospect of living in the same place for more than a semester or two is daunting to me, I am glad to be able to focus on my academics without wondering what I will do with myself after I finish. It also seems like most people eventually get a window.

The gorgeous blond in the photo above is my baby sister. She and a friend came down for their spring break on account of the fact it was March in upstate New York. And they wanted to go to the rodeo, so we did! Rodeos in Houston are a clash of cultures -- all these people wearing cowboy boots get out of minivans and walk through this parking lot that has a carnival in it until they get to a giant air-conditioned stadium where they can buy eight-dollar nachos and watch other people run around and tackle cows and stuff through their binoculars. There is country music an everybody cheers when the marines march a flag around the stadium. Rodeos are entertaining, too -- it actually is pretty fun to watch all the different events, and people sure are friendly -- I got called "partner" a bunch of times by old guys with mustaches who I never met before. As you can see, I bought a hat. My sister and her friend bought turquoise jewelery and assorted girly stuff. There are more rodeo pictures here.

HEADED NORTH

SUN-BLEACHED BRANCHES BELOW CLIFFS, GRAND GULCH, UTAH

Anyways, after spending a few days waiting because a mechanic broke my car while he was changing my brakes, I was able to load all my stuff up and drive away. I headed west at first, got lost outside of San Antonio for about an hour, and then spend a night in the Texas Hill Country where I was treated to what may the wildest thunderstorm I've ever tented in. Then I drove through west Texas where I tried to visit Caverns of S0nora only to find that they were full of school kids until later in the afternoon, which was too long for me to hang around. So I kept pushing through Pecos and into New Mexico where I went through Carlsbad and Roswell. In Roswell you always feel like something is watching you, but it's just the little cameras on the stoplights which are everywhere in that town. Anyways I made it to Villanueva State Park where I spent the night. After that I got some groceries in Santa Fe and kept going to Farmington. Then it got dark and I got lost and ended up going south when I wanted to go west, which landed me in Gallup by the time I saw a sign telling which road I was on (100 miles out of the way). So I go a room in Gallup and then drove through Arizona, which was beautiful, on my way to Grand Gulch in southeast Utah where I spent three days and nights backpacking, which translates to exploring old Native American ruins, planning your moves from one spring to the next, trying to find ways to beat the heat, and hoping not to see any mountain lions or rattlesnakes. It was awesome. Afterwards, I was exhausted, so I went pretty much straight back to Montana spending only one night along the way in Pocatello, Idaho. Pics of the drive and the hike are here.

BACK UNDER THE BIG SKY

BIGFORK MONTANA ON A CHILLY SPRING DAY IN JUNE

Upon arriving in Missoula after my fourth cross-country move in a year, I unloaded my stuff into the lovely apartment of a generous friend who is looking at bones someplace in the desert west of here all summer, and met up with my geo grad crew for some necessary storytelling over a few beers. After a few days I got motivated to organize stuff for my fieldwork, and when my field assistant showed up we loaded up his truck and drove north to the eastern shore of Flathead lake, which is mostly just a bunch of woods clinging to the side of a mountain but there are also a lot of cherry orchards, with some rich people's houses and a few trailer parks mixed in for good measure.

During the day we drive around looking for places where the geology is exposed. We spend a lot of time poking around roadcuts, gravel pits, construction sites, and stuff like that. We pretty much try to drive every single road looking for exposures, and will also be bushwhacking to likely spots in the mountains. I am supposed to make a map of the surface geology and interpret the glacial history of the area shown by the red blob in the northeast corner of the right-hand map above (the map on the left shows the location in Montana of the one on the right). So far things are going pretty good -- we found a brewery and some geology that I am hoping might be cool enough to publish a paper on (time will tell), and we have only been chased by dogs twice.

FIRST-CLASS CAMP COOKING

As usual, I am enjoying camp living. We set up in a campground just south of Bigfork, and we've done some great open-fire cooking. Our dutch oven cracked in half, and we don't have a grill to put over the fire pit or anything, but honestly the old skillet has been producing some great stuff with only one major grease-fire incident so far, and that was bacon so of course there was a grease fire. It got about four feet high so I was glad it was in a campsite and not on a stove inside anywhere, but once we pulled the bacon out it was pretty cool to watch.

Anyways that's all I have time for today. On June 17th I move into the apartment where I will live for the coming school year. We are renting a small house very close to campus -- I'll try to put a photo up on my next post, whenever that is. It will cost more than where I lived last fall but I think the convenience of being near campus will be worth it and help me to get the huge amount of work in store for me finished by May. Regardless, I will be glad to be able to unpack some of my stuff and settle in a little bit, It's now been three weeks of suitcasing.

March

Hi folks. There are no pictures (sorry). This post is more of a rant than an update on my life.

First off: Come on, Spitzer. I am trying to show some New York Pride down here after the Super Bowl. You are embarrassing me.

Second: I hate March. If you are from upstate New York, by the end of march it has been winter for four months. I'll admit that winter has its perks: skiing, snowshoeing, and all of the other things you so on brisk clear days where the wind cuts at your cheeks and makes you feel alive. But in March all the snow either goes away or turns brownish-gray, and slush falls out of the sky for what seems like weeks. Everything floods and freezes. All exposed earth turns into sticky goop. There will sometimes be like two nice days in March. So since you are done skiing, you are thinking about fishing. The promise of trout season keeps you alive. Some signs of March include:

1) You had to buy two new fly boxes because you had no place to put all the incredibly complicated, completely unique, and totally useless flies that you tied... yesterday night instead of sleeping.

2) You honestly wonder how on earth you could have been stupid enough to get as old as you are and STILL not be a professional fishing guide yet.

3) You know which fly you are going to use first, and where.

4) You catch yourself thinking about replacing your car with a pickup... with a cap, and a hammock in the back...

5) You already bought five new leaders for the season, but have now decided it would be better to braid your own.

6) You catch yourself thinking you are smarter than the fish (ha! Fool.)

7) You had to start a new bookmarks folder on your web browser for USGS stream gauges.

8) You think the weather will be nice the first weekend in April in upstate New York.

9) Your co-workers can't wait for trout season to start (because they are so sick of hearing about it from you).

10) You know how many hours it will be until you are on-stream...

Honestly, if I could re-write the calendar, I would delete March. Now some of you might say that then we would have an extra long February and April to fill the space... which might be true. But it's irrelevant -- eliminating march is a matter of principle.

I can always tell its march because I start to feel anxious and cooped up. Every year. Some years it gets really bad. Every year at college I wanted to quit at this time of year. And every year since, I've wanted to quit my job at this time of year. Quit and do what? I don't know. Who cares. Hibernate, maybe. That's what everything else with fur does.

In fact, I vote that we as a society all hibernate. Like, I mean do nothing. We all just drink beer and pig out sometime in February, and put on a whole bunch of weight and don't feel bad about it, and then we pretty much hang out during the lousiest time of year and stew about how life is no cake-walk and just fall asleep if we don't feel like doing anything, and wait for springtime to come so there can be new life all over the place and we can get a fresh start on things.

Actually, I am pretty sure that is in the bible and it's called Lent. Before it comes Fat Tuesday, and afterwards comes Easter. Lent is not optional, folks, it's written straight into the orbit of the Earth: For the last forty days of winter, everything will suck, because you will be all cabin-feverish and trout season is not here yet. Speaking of which, it is also no surprise that Easter always lands in late March or early April.

You see, back when they were deciding on that stuff, their math was not so good and calendar use was not widespread, so the beginning of trout season was not so set. But everybody knew when it was. So they just put Easter then - it makes total sense: the first day of trout season is the "writing on the wall" for the winter blues. Salvation from the stewing mess of our own thoughts, which have been bouncing off the insides of our skulls in total disorder for months, trying to convince us that thinking about stuff is productive. Those thoughts need to be ordered, we need to get back to basics and go just DO something fundamental... like how about stand in a river and try to outsmart something with a brain the size of a pea. Now we can stop just thinking about fishing-- casting off the stale and stifling bonds of our own small-mindedness to go and do what we were created to do! When trout season starts, we can stop daydreaming and start remembering our respect for our pea-brained friends: they are wiser than they first appear, and commonly prove us to be the fools. But anyways, when they picked the easter day, they were aiming for a day which was culturally the most symbolic of new life and of breaking the rule of sin: the first day of trout season.

But I of course am in Texas, where there is no trout season. I live in Houston, the petro-metro... it's basically a strip mall the size of Rhode Island. It is flat. The nearest mountain is a thousand miles away. The streams are all man-made, and they have no trout (only alligators). Environment is not a focus for most people, because the land is so boring that it actually looks better with a subdivision on it. I will have to wait until May to play with trout this year...

Alive in Texas

TEXAS HAS GOTTA BE AROUND HERE SOMEPLACE...

The wheeled contraption shown above was seen last week in Alabama, headed south towards Tuscaloosa on I-59. Contrast the graduate student from the northeast, who packs all of his belongings into a small car for a long-distance move, with the Texan, who apparently needs to supplement their bus with a state-themed trailer while driving around for fun. Anyways, after wintering in the northeast, the good ship Silver Subaru has completed another successful cross-continental voyage. She found port this time in Houston, Texas, where I, the nomadic American bachelor troubadour geologist, now live. I am here to serve my internship with the Oil and Gas industry so that this summer I can return to Montana and live in a tent, working on my Masters project,which I just heard has received full funding from the USGS -- your tax dollars at work! Isn't life amazing?

Highlights of the holiday break since the previous post include more time with family and friends, and especially the opportunity to catch up with some folks I haven't seen in a while all over the northeast. Nothing beats catching up with folks in person -- I only wish I had the time and resources to track more people down!

Before heading south, I made a trip to Boston to connect with some people and get one last whiff of north Atlantic air before going away. On my way I stopped in Williamstown to see friends and family, which is always a treat. The hospitality of my friends everywhere always amazes me, and this trip was no exception! I was well-fed on pancakes and strong coffee and constantly entertained by their tribe of kids, who seriously tested my plastic lightsaber fencing skills. I think if the kids get any bigger we will break the swords. And on the family end, I was able to help my grandparents with getting a lot of the electronics in their house up and running. In return, I received grandma's cooking. Good trade.

FUNNY FACES MAKE BREAKFAST TASTE BETTER!

In Boston I was lucky enough to stay with a high school buddy and see several friends from college who needed visiting and catching up with. And after getting my whiff of the salty sea air, I began walking the docks back towards the city when my nostrils caught something else -- something pungently sweet and quite familiar, comforting really. I couldn't put my name on it at first but it got my attention so I backtracked, and there it was again. It was pitch -- one of the boats must have had its timbers or its lines sealed up with it. I smiled and remembered how hard it was to get that smell off of me after spending a couple of hours working in the rigging on the Charles W. Morgan back in Mystic.

After returning from Boston I continued to work on writing some small grants and packed up my car before heading south. I was fortunate enough to have a good friend as a copilot for the trip, and our first stop was Mechanicsburg PA where a close college friend of mine lives. The next morning we rolled down to DC, where a small collection of GMS05ers assembled, including my long trail hiking buddy, my New York to Montana copilot from this past summer, and the graceful hostess who fed us all so well back in Burlington. She invited us to a birthday party happening at her house, where we had a great time but found it to be hard work not falling in love with her charming roommates.

WHY CAN'T I MOVE TO DC? I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

As usual I'll have to be satisfied with memories for a while, as I've failed to even get many pictures of the friends I've crossed paths with. There are a couple posted here, and a few more on my picasa page, but that's all I got. I was probably mostly too busy enjoying people's company to think about pictures. And naturally half of the ones I was able to take came out lousy... so I guess it's a good thing we don't need pictures to think of good times and good people, right?

So I moved on from DC to Chapel Hill, North Carolina where another college friend is going to school right now. His lovely wife fed us TVP Chili (which was awesome), and sent us off with pound cake (also amazing), which would sustain us for a thousand miles. We drove that night to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, where we stayed in a motel and ate at Chilis, and then the following day through Baton Rouge and on to Houston.

As you approach Houston from the east, you pass a lot of petroleum refining operations. At night they are like brightly lit cities of pipes and tanks, sprawling over the landscape. You can smell them. The refining operation I saw while headed east through Billings was maybe around the size of one of the more modest of those down here, but here there were dozens of them. Perhaps the only thing more brightly lit were the signs advertising casinos: welcome, I suppose, to the Redneck Riviera. Down here, oil is big, big business: the gulf coast refineries are teat that sustains America's ravenous economy.

After arriving in town and settling into my house, I completed some small grant applications and also learned that the big one I had worked with my professor on this fall got funded! This means that I will have a salary this summer, and that I will be able to proceed as planned with my masters thesis project. Very good news, and very encouraging to me as a young scientist. I also started work. I have one day under my belt. It looks like the people I will be working with are great, and the project I am on seems interesting too. I should be learning a lot and having a good time!

ON THE ROAD AGAIN: SADDLING UP ON A CHILLY CHAPEL HILL MORNING

I feel very lucky to have so many good friends. Because people are unique, friendships are unique, and I value each of them. I am also lucky to be able to visit my friends when I travel. But seeing them can certainly be bittersweet for me: it seems it's never for long enough, and there's not much prospect of my living close by to my east coast pals any time soon. People's lives are moving on without me really in them, just as mine moves on with them far away. I guess its a matter of providence, something to be thankful for, when you are able to have a rich and real friendship that grows over time. But I meet new folks and make new friends wherever I go. I have connected with an old friend here in Houston already (over a pile of tasty crawfish, no less), and hope to meet new people soon as well. And I'm able to look forward to returning to Missoula next year, where I know I have great people. Pretty sweet, huh?

Time and Space...

MONTANA'S MISSION MOUNTAINS, NORTH OF MISSOULA

Well, it's been far too long. And I'm far from Montana: this holiday season finds me thankfully resting at home with family, and able to spend time with old friends, getting ready for Texas and trying to get rid of some of the stuff that always seems to be in my car with me when I move but I don't know where it came from and never use it. Too much has happened since I last posted for me to hope to do everything justice here so there will be a short version and a long version.

Short Version:

My adventures seem to have me rolling around the lower 48 -- after leaving my job with the engineering firm last spring I flew to Montana and spent five weeks chasing rocks around the desert at field camp, flew back east and walked from one end of Vermont to the other which took a month and was the best thing I ever did, drove my butt back to Montana, saw Glacier National Park, moved into an apartment, caught a frickin' huge brown trout, made a batch of beer, got super busy with school, made new friends, got addicted to coffee, drank too much wine with my new friends, inherited a piranha, made a new batch of beer, took an job in Texas for the spring, drank all the first beer, stopped drinking coffee, ate apple cider donuts in a van in a desert in Idaho, spent a week drinking beer with friends and geologizing at the GSA conference in Denver, discovered I lost 25 pounds, applied for a bunch of grants, taught two sections of geo 101, got addicted to coffee again, took my finals, stopped drinking coffee again, drank all the new beer, gave the damn piranha away, moved out of that stupid apartment, drove my tired ass back to New York, saw family and old friends, got fat on holiday food, and had coffee this morning but just because I like it, not because I needed it to wake up (honest). I spent too much time thinking and not enough time doing of late. But that will change soon.

Long version, with all the reflection and thought and stuff:

There was a great field trip north through the Mission Valley and up to Flathead lake. There were teachers from all over the state with us, and it was great to be able to learn about teaching from them while they learned about geology from us. We were able to see some of the flathead river and sniff around some coarse-grained imbricated deposits. Mmmm, sediment (burp!) -- add the spot and the observation to the list in my brain. We were also able to see some gorgeous country on a perfect day.

Field trips are like a a breath of fresh air: I went to Montana because I wanted to see it, and have succeeded... in seeing the inside of the geology building in Montana. It's difficult to tear myself away from classes and work, but field trips are an exception. For a geologist there's nothing more important than going out and seeing things. This is the food for our souls and the source of our power. Doing so with experienced faculty along to ask and answer questions is probably the single most educational thing that will happen to me as I work on my degree. I look forward field trips and will basically skip or postpone everything for the chance to get out on the land.

Later in October, as midterms approached, I got a chance to participate in a field trip to central Idaho's Snake River Plain (red dot on the Google Maps image at right). It's 75 miles across and hundreds long. It's dry and windy, and it's pretty much the only big flat thing anyplace near the northern Rockies. It's also unique because it's made of basalt: extruded volcanic rock. The gurus tell us that it's so flat because the basalt has filled in all the low spots, almost like a lake is flat even if the bottom is not. So where did it all come from? If you follow the plain to it's northeast terminus, you will find yourself at the source: Yellowstone National park in Wyoming's northwest corner (yellow dot), sits atop a geologic hotspot. While the origins and deep mechanics of these features are hotly contested (ding! geology pun), it is certain that they tend to produce a lot of volcanic activity at the surface. As the North American plate has been slowly creeping in a southwest direction, the hotspot has left an elongate scar on its surface: the Snake River Plain. We also visited Craters of The Moon National Monument, a volcanic site which has been active in geologically recent time.

TROUBLEMAKERS AT CRATERS OF THE MOON

Upon returning to Missoula after the Idaho trip, I found myself scrambling with research funding proposals and preparing for midterm exams. But before the exams could be dealt with, I left campus again. This time, I was headed to the Mile-High City for the Geological Society of America (GSA) national meeting. After a beautiful 15 hour drive south including a stop at Bozeman's Museaum of the Rockies, we found Denver full of geologists. The people running the conference knew their clientèle: there is a bar right in the main exhibit hall, and anyone attending gets a free beer there every day. It's about time. I ran into some old Williams friends as well, which is always a treat. They took me to Boulder and fed me more beer. The posters and the talks were all very interesting and educational, and it was good to see first-hand the way my science moves ahead. The only problem was that I had to share Denver with a bunch of happy Mass-holes: the stinking Red Socks were in town to win the World Series against the Rockies. And of course personalities began to grate on the trip back north, but that's to be expected.

I honestly don't really remember much of what happened between Denver and finals. I know there were midterms, and it got darker and colder and my bike got a flat, and even though I fixed it I eventually had to start driving to work because they don't plow anything in Missoula. There was a bunch of racquetball for a while but once finals really got swinging, sleeping and eating were basically my only recreation. Somewhere along the line I discovered that since embarking on the Long trail I had lost about 25 pounds. While somewhat alarming, this did not come as a particular surprise: the long trail was strenuous, and since then I had been maintaining a high energy level for long hours of work on not enough sleep and not really eating enough. So I started cooking pasta by the vat. Amen. Anyways finals showed up, and I worked hard on everything and did what thought was a pretty good job, and decided to make arrangements with the department to serve my internship in Texas this coming spring. The details took some working out, but we succeeded. And the grades from everything even came alright.

So I gave away my stupid inherited piranha, moved my furniture to my friends' basement, put my crap in my car, and hit the road. The first few hours headed east on I-90 were harrowed: did I leave anything behind? Did I forget some important task before leaving? My landlord called to ask me to mail him the keys. I was talking to my mom on the phone when I finally noticed what I was driving through: the highway was following the Clark Fork River up its course, winding through canyons with bedrock on both sides. . Little ranches occupied flat spots on the valley floor: behind split-rail fences, horses grazed through a dusting of fresh snow, with mountains behind and blue sky above. I started wondering how badly I would miss my new home in the west, and how the hell I had managed to spend three months out here doing mostly just a bunch of paperwork, and whether the good grades and strong references would be worth two years of missed fishing, and before I knew it I had blown past Butte with its giant hole in the ground and was climbing the continental divide. I called my dad as I drove over the pass, and I knew that from here out things would start to get flatter... and flatter.

I rolled down the east side of the divide and the last rays of sun came over my right shoulder and played on the Crazy Mountains ahead. Soon it was dark -- I called old friends and kept rolling. The bright lights of Billings came into view, and as I got closer I could smell something... Billings has refineries. I reminded myself that they are necessary to keep the economy from crashing and babies from starving. I knew that working for big oil in Houston this spring, I would be no closer to refining operations than I am now. I hope the people running those places are doing their best to keep things clean, at least. Anyways I jumped on I-94 and ran out of energy by Miles City where I crashed at a Motel 6. Still in Montana after 7 hours of driving. I got up in the morning and discovered I had found the friendliest city on earth. After learning that I was driving east for the holidays, one cashier actually and honestly told me to have a merry Christmas, just in case she didn't see me again. A long way to go to New York.

North Dakota is not a complicated place to drive through. Theodore Roosevelt National Park is beautiful (the hilly section near the interstate is like a northern little brother to the Badlands), and then things stay beautiful but they get flatter and flatter. The roads are straight and it's a long way between... everything. I noticed a few oil pumps here and there, and as the sun went down ESPN radio was interrupted to announce that people should watch out for a red angus steer that escaped from a stockyard, and report its whereabouts to local authorities. If you are driving there an you you are in a hurry (though I suppose you would have flown in that case...), skip Jamestown if you can. Once you are off the highway you need to drive around for fifteen minutes (past every business in town, I'm sure) before they let you back on. Nothing against Jamestown or it's people, it's just not fast is all.

I crossed into Minnesota to be greeted by the first woodsmoke I'd smelled in a long time. Somehow I'm sure I smelled some in Missoula, but something was different as I drove the moonlit backroads towards Little Falls: the high plains' open vistas had been replaced by dense, dark northern forests that seemed to crowd the shoulders of the road with their evergreen shadows, extra thick in the freezing night. The smell of a fire in someone else's hearth conjured feelings of home. I reached little falls and after spending some time winding down and catching up with Melissa, whose hospitality was wonderful as always, I turned in. After an early breakfast I tanked up at a gas station where the snow piles were five feet high and hit the road again and drove into the rising sun and towards Minneapolis, the first of the big Midwest towns. The highway got wider and there were more and more cars, it seemed like ages since I'd seen so many cars though I knew it had only been a couple of days. Driving a long way you watch the landscape change, and feel the pavement under your tires, and this accentuates the passage of time.

In a gas station in Wisconsin I saw the first ice-fishing magazines. NPR was running a special on polkabilly, a strange type of local music, and how it "changed American folk music forever." Who knew. And people talking about how all the guys who played in those bands were pretty good guys because their fathers or grandfathers were from Norway, and why is it that kids these days are so excited to learn the electric guitar but not the accordion?

I have no idea where Illinois is, but you can't miss Chicago. All the maps tell you "three hours to Chicago," and your friends tell you "it's four hours from Chicago." Nobody reminds you that Chicago is not another dot on your map that you just drive past. All the highways come together to get around the south end of Lake Mighican, and it seems like everybody wants to be on one of them. The two hours of five lanes of stand-still, bumper-to-bumper traffic were draining and made me feel far from Missoula, and the sun was already down and I still had miles to go. I took a detour into Indiana to see a friend for some food at a rest stop, and then tore through the dark to arrive in Ann Arbor well after midnight. It was good to see old friends there, and they gave me some new sad cowboy music to keep me going.

I got a late start from there and don't remember much of the last day: there was Ohio, and a city to drive around and cheap gas, and then Erie PA, and then Buffalo, where a cashier at a rest stop laughed at me when I seemed startled at the two dollar price tag on a diet coke. Western New York passed easily, and though it was dark I could feel the land starting to close in on both sides: my heart raced at the first mountains in two days. I had reached my very own Adirondacks, the mountains from "The last of the Mohicans." Soon there were signs for Utica, and I knew that close by in one of my favorite trout streams there were big browns and feisty rainbows, hunkered down and waiting for spring, only stirring to eat the easiest meals until the snowmelt comes and the mayflies hatch. I got to Schenectady and drove through town on roads that I didn't need a map for.

DEFENDING MYSELF AGAINST A WAVE OF ATTACKING COUSINS

The holiday ritual of family and old friends was especially sweet this year, and I had good pictures for everyone. I have been able to get up the mountains twice (not to the high peaks, though): once with good friend Dan, and again to ski with the parents. Seeing my little sisters has been wonderful, they are both doing so well and making me proud. Today a dentist told me two things I already knew: I have a cavity (that's why I went in), and I drink too much diet coke (but the lime kind is so good...).

VIEW SOUTH OVER GREAT SACANDAGA LAKE FROM
HADLY MOUNTAIN FIRE TOWER

Dark day in New York

How often does it happen that all the way out in Montana I can watch a Bills game and a Yankee game on the same night? Not often. And what happens? The Yanks blow it to get knocked out of the playoffs and the Bills lose to Dallas (Dallas!!) in a heartbreaker on the last play of the game. Absolutely un-freaking-believable.

I'm so upset I'm going to do homework.

Go West, Young Man...

CURIOUS GOATS ALONG GLACIER NATIONAL PARK'S HIGHLINE TRAIL

Hello Again to all. I arrived here in Missoula six weeks ago and find myself wondering how the time has gone by so quickly. The answer is that I've been busy! Blessedly busy: between getting unpacked after the move, getting a grip on the start of my Masters degree, and taking advantage of the (prodigious) local outdoor recreational resources, I've had very little time. This is a mixed blessing: on the one hand, I always feel slightly behind. On the other, I have no time to worry about things that don't require worry, and though I'm busy I've been relaxed. This post will be divided up into subject headings because I need to go to bed and this is the most efficient way to get all y'all up to speed. Here we go!

TRIP WEST:
Many thanks to my trusty co-pilot for excellent conversation, for traveling to Albany from Maryland's eastern shore to accompanyme, for driving relief, and for general support during our trip across the country. Additionally, many thanks to all those friends of ours who gave us food, lodging, and fellowship during our journey: without y'all it would have been quite a dreary trip across the midwest, and with ya'll we managed to get all the way to Northwest Montana before having to pay for anything aside from gas and the occasional evening out. Word.

MONTANA LIVING:
Upon arriving in Missoula, I moved into my apartment where I completely furnished my room for under $200 thanks to the many thrift stores in town. It's sweet. The apartment is clean and outfitted with the bachelor basics: ESPN and a grill. I have two roommates who I get along well with.

I also got a bike for free at Free Cycles of Missoula, a great bike co-op/repair shop where people are interested in supporting sustainable transportation. I have about a twelve minute bike ride in to campus, most of which is on a bike trail. I have a milk crate on the rack on my bike and I can use it to get groceries, too. Biking is the best way to get to campus because parking there is a hassle, and also it's cheap and healthy for me and for the atmosphere. Between the exercise of riding in and the coffee with which I typically flood my system every AM, I am even usually awake for class. A lot of nights I find myself riding home from the geology department in the middle of the night. This requires that I bungee cord a flashlight to the front of my bike, and things generally go smoothly with the exception of the fact that Missoulians seem to time their lawn irrigation systems based on when I am commuting home (i.e., I ride through a lot of sprinklers on the bike trail).

GO PLAY OUTSIDE:
As noted above, I've been careful to get out once in a while. Western Montana is rich in scenery, wildlife, and places to hike. I had a solid soak in a hotspring a couple of weekends ago, where I was able to see a buck, a bull moose, and a bunch of naked old hippies. Like I said, wildlife. I also managed to head up to Glacier National Park for an afternoon with some of the other new grad students in the geology department.
Glacier is a strange and wonderful place where the ground and the sky sort of intertwine, no cameras have big enough viewfinders, and basically the best thing humans can do is try to sit still and look at it long enough that their minds quiet down and their eyes open up, and they feel like little children in a big world. For a pathetic attempt at capturing glacier's scenery using a camera, follow this link. There is this crazy thing there called the Going to the Sun Road, which winds through some of the scenic sections of the park. It is covered with cars and Harleys that go up and down it like ants all day long, and at the top of it is the Logan Pass visitor center where you can find a very crowded parking lot, a pisser, an overpriced gift shop, and lots of out-of-place looking Homo sapiens.
We hiked the highline trail north from Logan Pass with the "Garden Wall," along which the Continental Divide runs, on our right. Views were flat stunning, and we ran into a mountain goat kid and it's parent. Note: because they live in places where no predators can get to them, mountain goats have basically no need for a brain. They are incredibly stupid. The kid goat approached within five or ten feet of me while I took pictures, and then began eating a bush on the side of the trail. Every time it turned around and saw me again, it would jump as if startled, look curiously for a few seconds to ensure that I wasn't dangerous, and then get re-distracted by its bush. This happened four consecutive times.
We passed the goats and kept going until we got hungry enough to turn around. When we got back to the visitor's center, there were bighorn sheep in the parking lot. Everybody of course crowded around in an impromptu digital photography firing squad, which was find until the sheep started butting heads with each other and the ranger told us to back off a bit. Yeah, whatever, okay, okay.
Fishing should not go unmentioned: Montana lives up to its reputation, with even my extremely meager fly-fishing skills having produced a whole bunch of trout already. One was quite a large brown trout, almost certainly over twenty inches long and requiring both hands to handle. I had to fight the fish for ten minutes to get it to hand, and it was definitely the largest I've ever caught, of any species, in fresh water. The scenery along the rivers is often beautiful, and the best spot I have found so far is five minutes from my place by car. Sweet.

THAT GRAD SCHOOL THINGIE:
So what do I actually do out here? Well, whatever it is, it apparently takes priority over keeping my blog up to date judging by the amount of time this post sat as a mostly fished draft before I finished writing it (three weeks).

Well, I am a graduate student. It's very important to note the distinction between graduate school and college: at college I felt like I went to school every day, here I feel like I go to work every day. Graduate study is a professional endeavor. Especially in a masters program, I am here for a relatively short time and am working to achieve specific goals (gain necessary tools and identify and complete a thesis project in my area of study). I work a lot, finding myself in the geology building from 8AM to after midnight. I take a full coarseload and teach two sections of the Geology 101 lab (that's how I get money), and try to squeeze project work in between all of that. The first semester of a masters degree tends to be harrowing because there are often a lot of classes to be taken. Classes take a lot of time between scheduled meetings and not-always-completely-necessary busy work, and this gets in the way of more important things, which is frustrating.

While I am certainly behind on sleep, I seem to be coping relatively well with the stress of a full schedule. I have developed a substantial caffeine addiction and drink a full thermos of coffee by lunch every day (after dinner I start on diet coke, which I buy by the liter). While less than ideal, it gets the work done and keeps me attentive.

DR. WINSTON SQUINTS INTO THE WIND

A lot of weekends are field trips, which is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, field trips prevent me from using my weekends to catch up on sleep and personal chores, relax and have fun, or get ahead on work. On the other hand, field trips are often fun and relaxing in themsleves. Last weekend I was on a field trip and we camped on Clark Canyon Reservoir south of Dillon, MT. I spent the evenings drinking beer and listening to our emeritus faculty scream old drinking songs and play the banjo (what can I say, we have good emeritus faculty), and the mornings sipping strong fresh coffee and frying eggs while the sun rose over the reservoir.

Days were spent watching and listening while our faculty, who have seen a lot of rocks and are true experts in the local geology, wave their arms at outcrops and explain their interpretations of the rocks. Or, as the case may be, wave their arms at outcrops and make stuff up and ask us if we agree (happens when we stop at a new place). A lot of time in vans with students leads to interesting conversations and hopefully the start of new friendships. I honestly just can't bring myself to complain.

VIEW FROM THE TENT COULD BE WORSE...

One of the noteworthy things about grad study is that its whole attitude is one of preparation for things to come, whether its career or more school or what. As a young American in a mobile culture, I find myself spending more energy than is probably healthy thinking about who I am. I am not talking about just superficial appearance (a quick look at my wardrobe will tell you that I don't worry too much about that), I'm talking more about my idea of myself. Like, what kind of person am I going to be, what societal categories can I put myself in, and are they cool ones (i.e., am I going to be a counter-culture local organic screw-the-man hippie or a hard worker in a big corporation or a teacher of some sort, or what, and how do my faith and philosophy fit with all of this?). What will the world think of when they hear my name? What will I think of when I think of myself?

The geology department here is very good about connecting me to potential future directions (in fact I have already secured an internship with an oil company for the coming summer). While this is certainly a good thing, it puts a keen edge on the question of identity for me. This is exacerbated to some extent by the Missoula community, which appears to me to very image-focussed. I love the community here: people are passionate and proactive about all kinds of social causes which are very important (environmental, human rights, other social stuff, politics, etc.). But a part of the social energy here is certainly a bandwagon effect: it's cool to be counterculture in Missoula. The outdoorsy/alternative vibe is very loud, and while I sort of fit the bill in the first place, I sometimes catch myself making decisions based on vanity or peer pressure or materialism or image-ism rather than for the right reasons. I suspect this is also the truth for others.

I think it's good that I consider it important that my chosen path is consistent with my understanding of my faith and with my philosophy. It's also natural that I should feel that my career is an important part of what I show the world of myself: it will be what I spend most of my time actually doing. It will be the opus of my time on earth. I should pick a good one (I know, I know, it will probably change a bunch of times, just quiet down and read along so I can get to the point). At any rate, it's a constant exercise to keep a clear head about who I am in this environment. Gotta say, though, that I am glad for the abundance of good music and quality beer in town. Comes with the territory, I suppose.

Overall, I really like being out here so far. As long as I take care of my body and don't agonize now about decisions that can't be made yet, I actually enjoy working hard and learning a lot. There are ample opportunities to take initiative and be rewarded for doing well (another big bullet for grad students to dodge is the narcissism, self-love, and, elitism that come with being told that you are smart and successful). And my work is interesting and the people are good and I am largely able to determine when I work on what and to do things at my own pace. I am glad to be here. Anyways, it's time to fight graduate stress and starvation, I am meeting some friends at their place: they have the food and I am supposed to bring the wine which I have earned the right to drink by pushing through three weeks without a day off (field trips last two weekends). This weekend I should be able to get some R&R and catch up on things a bit. Here's me hoping that actually happens!!

The Long Trail (belated)

Hello there friends. Today is the last day before my classes and responsibilities at the University begin, so I figured I would use some of my remaining free time to update y'all on my current status. I am sorry for waiting so long to post -- as planned, I've taken a circuitous route through the months since my my previous post. After a great trip to the Trap Dyke, the Long Trail fun Began (for photos click here or visit my Picasa site):

Looking back on the trip a month after finishing, relatively few specific experiences stick out in my mind. The experiences and the anecdotes are there, but they are not the first thing that I think of. Instead I remember emotions, people, and places. Anyhow, we successfully walked from Massachusetts to Canada, one step at a time. So since I can't have a conversation with each of y'all, I thought it would be good to send out a little Q&A format thingy to cover the basics -- like the stuff that most people ask when they see us. Please feel very free to attempt to contact me if you want to hear more. So here goes:

Q: Have you guys showered and stuff? You smell terrible!
A: Twice. We actually don't smell bad at all. You smell like soap.

Q: So, are you two still friends at all?
A: We hope so.

Q: How was the Appalachian Trail?
A: Well, We liked it -- there were a lot of people to be friends with. And the trail there is easy. But actually we hiked the Long Trail (LT), which is different from the Appalachian Trail (AT), but they run together for about a hundred miles in the south of VT, so we were on the AT for a while there. The LT was there first. Anyways north of Killington the AT splits of the LT. The LT keeps going the rest of the way up VT, but if you are on the AT you need to take a right so you go to New Hampshire.

Q: Was the weather any good for you?
A: Occasionally. We saw the inside of a lot of clouds, but had beautiful views from Mansfield and from Jay peak.

Q: What did you do if it rained?
A: We hiked in the rain. It was wet.

Q: So what were the highlights?
A: The lifestyle and the people. You meet all kinds of people. And folks are so open and unassuming out there.

Q: And the anti-highlights?
A: Please refrain from speaking about tuna, or ramen. I'm serious. Oh, and we now hate all wet mossy rocks that you are supposed to walk down. Yes, hate.

Q: What are you going to eat now that you are done?
A: Pretty much a lot, but focussing on bread, fresh fruits and veggies, red meat, and beer.

Q: Was it, like, a totally awesome spiritual experience?
A: Yes, but not in the "We had focussed devotion time, and I read 4 books by dead British lay theologians, and had lots of talks about evangelism" sort of way. More in the "God seems wild and mysterious out here, and he is showing me about what I need and what I don't need, and it's healthy for me to see so clearly how much I am dependent on His provision for my physical and spiritual needs, and in our society I think we are addicted to technology and to planning ahead and having a weather report and a cell phone and knowing what time it is and being in a hurry, so we insulate ourselves from some very basic truths about what it means to be a person in creation and out there, things are clearer" sort of way. It's un-nerving to humans to trust a wild and fanciful God, because we are so used to having order and schedules and stuff but He has his own plan and it can be hard to figure out what it is before it is happening to you. But if you put yourself in a situation where you aren't trying to figure it out before then, it's wild and great because you are taking everything one step at a time, in grace, and if you are hoping for something, you pray for it and you don't doubt. Because maybe it will happen and maybe not. I mean, there is a whole interconnected planet down here and I am this real small person with this little idea that I am hoping for, so why would the master of the universe be bothered to worry about if I am having a crappy day or not? But you know, God sort of has his own logic for things and he just might be crazy enough to decide to hook me up on this one. Oh, sweet, blue sky...

(Note: this sequence of events actually happened on Mount Mansfield, where I met my parents to celebrate my Birthday. They brought wine and cupcakes, which were devoured).

Q: Are you glad to be back to real life?
A: This is not real. The trail is way real-er. This crap is all contrived to make us comfortable, it dulls the senses and makes it harder to be real.

Q: I've been thinking about hiking the LT for a while, it just sort of hasn't happened yet. Any advice?.
A: It's awesome. Get out there and do it before you find yourself stuck in a real job with a cubicle and ten days off a year. Advice-wise... leave stuff you don't need at home. Like, leave a lot of stuff at home. Oh, and hike your own hike. But definitely hike.