Saskatchewan Plates

Let me set this up.

Last year, Steve introduced me to the wonders of Elite status on Air Canada. Thanks to my Google-sponsored trans-pacific flights to Sydney, hitting the threshold was fairly straightforward. Fast forward a year of cushy airport lounges and free upgrades to first class and I found myself spoiled by the status. Unfortunately, while I did have one Sydney trip logged before leaving the Goog, I wasn’t quite to the threshold to continue my status for another year. But I was tantalizingly close.

Turns out there’s an entire community dedicated to optimizing for points collection. And when those people are in my position, they do what’s called a “Mile-ing run”. These flights are optimized for maximum number of miles at minimum cost (they use the metric cents per mile to compare them). These flights also minimize the amount of time spent at a destination so you spend the least amount of time traveling. It’s crazy and borderline perverse. I had to try it.

I did some napkin calculations and determined I could hit my goal with two flights.

Flight number one: New York for 12 hours.

The New York flight wasn’t notably cheap, but I could catch up with some friends in New York and take some meetings for work. I took the red eye flight out of SF at 11pm and arrived in New York just before 7 am the next day. While work meetings didn’t pan out, I managed to stop by and see a few other people before heading back to the airport for my flight back to SF which, of course, was delayed. Unfortunately, ny the time I got home, I was more stressed than expected after only the first flight. I was worried.

Flight number two: New Orleans, via Philadelphia

This is a true Mile-ing run because of the circuitous path to the destination and the uber cheap ticket price. In-flight Wifi was also available for both flights which made this much more practical. And I’m thankful to say that the flight to New Orleans was much lower stress than my New York trip, whether that’s due to US Airways instead of United or just the type of people that fly to Philadelphia and New Orleans instead of New York, I can’t really say for certain.

I’ve successfully arrived in New Orleans. I got in at 8pm. My flight out is 1pm tomorrow. When I landed, I didn’t even have a hotel and half considered just camping out at the airport all night. But I found a cheap last minute hotel with free wifi and an airport shuttle and am settled in writing this. Tomorrow, I’ve found a breakfast and a coffee place in the French Quarter to hit up early in the morning before heading back to the airport and back (indirectly) to San Francisco. I’m actually a little excited.

But it’s been a pretty thought provoking adventure and I don’t expect I’ll be doing it again. My current situation is somewhat unique in that I was far closer to the threshold than I will be going forward, and I currently have a little flexibility to work outside the office. Next year, I don’t expect to have near as much travel under my belt nor the interest in burning my time this way, as enticing as status may be.

More fundamentally though, I’ve been spending a lot of time reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma, In Defense of Food, and pretty much every book on foraging and mycology I can get my hands on. It’s given me a healthy distaste for the carbon footprint and ecological impact that industrialized food has had over the last 50 years. That frame of mind has given me a certain amount of cognitive dissonance about this adventure. The carbon footprint of my flight is pretty disgusting and that alone is enough to disuade me from repeating history next year. On top of that, the food the industry runs on is firmly in the “No-go” zone as dictated in my recent self-education. All-in-all, I’ve got a very strong uneasy feeling about the adventure. What’s done is done, but I’m having a hard time convincing myself that the end justifies the means.

I’ll make the best of it. I’m still excited to see New Orleans, if only briefly. And it’s certainly been a unique experience, as well as a thought provoking one. Even better, it’s helped me get some of my priorities in order.

But I’m excited to get home.

I went ahead and disconnected this blog from Facebook. I’m not sure how many people find themselves stopping by the site anymore, but I assume it’s a tiny set of people made smaller by unplugging it from Facebook’s newsfeeders. My hope is that by reducing the readers, I’ll be a little more comfortable writing more often and more honestly. I miss capturing my contemplative self.

The last few days have been rough. I haven’t been able to handle much in the way of human contact so I’ve been immersing myself in the Steve Jobs biography, episodes of Radiolab, and the new Feist album — all of which I strongly recommend. Despite now crossing over into November, the weather has remained warm enough that sun helps keep things a bit more upbeat too. And the Skype calls help as well. No pity for me is deserved but it sucks all the same.

All in all, not a great first post as an effort to rekindle the blogging fire but I hope things will get better one day at a time.

[Editors Note, I wrote this on my flight September 11, 2011 and am only now getting around to posting it]

Hand Covers Bruise – Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

Wow.

I sat with just that word blinking behind the cursor in my text edit for quite a while before continuing. I was searching for some word that would lend more power, inspiration to this post, something that would summarize and convey the breadth of events since my last update nearly exactly four months ago. But I couldn’t find something that captured the rollercoaster of events and emotions that have occurred since May more succinctly. In a form longer than three characters, I doubt I’ll do better.

This coming week roughly marks the end of 2011′s summer season. San Francisco’s climate will stretch warm weather out another month or so, but in Saskatoon this weekend, the leaves were already turning. I’m sad, not so much for the loss of tshirt weather or this year’s notable lack of lounging weekends around a lake, but purely the pace at which 2011 has passed me by. It feels like my last day was mere weeks ago, not the 1/3 year period it is in reality. Reality bites.

Currently, I’m an hour away from arriving in Toronto on my way to New York, after a one day stop over in Saskatoon for Barton’s wedding. Before Saskatoon was a quick stop over in Vancouver to visit my friends at immigration and confirm everything is still kosher. (Heh, they just announced the Riders/Bombers score over the PA on my flight. At the moment it sounds like the Riders are ahead. Terri evidently was right.)

Business is good. I expect to publish a full update on where we are but there’s a few more events over the next week that I want to capture as part of that so I’m holding off for now.

San Francisco is also good and it turns out that “good” doesn’t provide much fodder for updates. I miss all my work friend, it’s much harder to keep in touch both because we’re so busy, but also we’re just not in the daily discussions anymore. But otherwise San Francisco treats me well and Jessica is largely responsible for that. I owe her dearly for the majority of my own sanity that remains.

Next? Work. On so many fronts. 27 looms large on the horizon and there’s so very much I need to do. I hope to keep you these posts closer to a play by play than I have over the last few months.

Fingers crossed,
Sean

AC 564 is taxiing away from the gate toward the runway that will take this Embraer 190 away from my six hour visit to Vancouver and back to San Francisco. It started to rain just moments before I boarded, as if Vancouver was sad to see me leave, even if the trip was unreasonably brief. The flight home caps off the end of milestone week which itself falls at the end of a most intense few months. I’ve been radio silent on the blog due to this, which I aim to partially correct now. And by partially, I mean that there are still many details that the next few paragraphs will need to skim over, at least short term. But let’s start from the beginning, as one does.

Earlier this year, I finally decided I was ready for something new. Making the decision was, unfortunately, the easy part. Determining what new thing I was ready for turned out to be a much longer process. I weighed my options at work. There were some interesting teams locally and a few really enticing opportunities in a few of the Canadian offices, but none seemed to light a fire for me. At the same time, I had been talking with Matt, one of my coworkers, about how great it would be to start a company and, at some point in the discussion, we agreed it was time to take the plunge.

There are few secrets harder to keep than the life altering decision of quitting the cushy corporate gig to strike out on your own, and we kept that secret with varying amounts of success. The roommates were quickly on to us but were supportive as we moved forward. Eventually plans begin to crystalize and the circle of those aware of the change expanded proportionately.

In one of those “when it rains, it pours” moments, Karma decided it was about time I start dating someone. And so, one Fourloko-fueled house party in our apartment brought me together with my cute neighbor, Jessica. Or rather, gave me an excuse to take her to dinner as an apology for my actions during aforementioned four-gong show. One thing led to another and we both were surprised to find ourselves in a relationship.

Jessica was extremely supportive as Matt and I moved closer to the final date at work. Matt ended up leaving the company three weeks before me, as I had prior commitments to a looming conference. That unfortunately meant that I had to stretch the awkward conversations with the team much longer than one should. Unfortunate, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the team in a lurch. So work continued as conference prep ramped up, leaving Matt to fend for himself on the outside.

That led all the way up to last week, my last week. I was tired, stressed, anxious to get started, but with a few large and lingering responsibilities. Thankfully though, the week progressed quickly and as each day passed, the weight lifted. Dress rehearsals, presentations, press conference, meeting customers, being on panelz, network parties in between, and then suddenly, the conference was done. My amazing team took me out for dinner and drinks to celebrate our success at the conference, and hand off ownership to my co-PM who would be taking responsibility. Thursday and Friday clipped by as I scrambled to clean up all the remaining tasks and dump my brain on anyone that would listen. My last act before handing in my laptop was a mass mailed goodbye email to everyone I’d worked with over the three years I’d spent at the company. Some day I might post the thing as I’m rather proud of it.

Friday night, the APM gang took me out for drinks to celebrate my last day. The Bilinski clan even wore plaid in my honor, a gesture I truly appreciated despite surprisingly not wearing any myself. But despite the celebration, there was one remaining task.

Saturday, Jessica drove me to the airport so that I could do a same day return flight to Vancouver. You see, I’m still a true blood Canadian so I needed to negotiate with the border guards in order to continue working in the states for our newly created company. I landed in Vancouver and spent the 4 hours between flights scrambling to put together an acceptable web face for the company. Finishing up the last of the styling, I had one slow walk back through security into the maw of US Customs. There’s something about that room that causes minutes to stretch into hours, but thankfully, paper work checked out and I was sent on my way to catch my return flight to San Francisco with only minor verbal abuse from border security.

Sitting in the boarding lounge, I had to reflect on the whirlwind of days that brought me here. From casual discussions, to plans in motion, to ending what may turn out to be the most lucrative job I’ll ever hold, and picking up a wonderful girlfriend along the way, it’s been a roller coaster of emotion that these paragraphs only poorly convey. Right now, I could not be happier.

And so, my flight back to San Francisco will continue despite Vancouver’s drizzly protests. Monday morning begins an incredible new chapter and I’m only now starting to map out its course.

Wish me luck.

Regular readers will know how important music is to me. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I tend to be a pretty mild mannered individual, in both directions. It takes significant stimuli to get me bumped into a mood, negative or positive as the case may be. In many ways, Music is an amplification of my typical even keeled moods. There’s nothing better than an upbeat tune to carry you home in a Friday afternoon sun. Likewise, a slower beat and some distant vocals completes a foggy walk over fallen leaves.

But out of any situation, the impact of music on a relationship simply can’t be compared. Most relationships I’ve had over the past years, successful or otherwise, have had at least one song that somehow ties me directly to that time, place, and person. When that song falls into rotation at some dimly lit establishment, I’ll flash back to that place and time, to that person.

It’s worth noting that most of the girls in those relationships are almost certainly not aware of what the song is, though I suspect a few off them could pick the sond out of a list. In most cases, the song embodies a feeling rather than simply something that played at some point while our paths crossed. And in a strange way, these tracks have become bookmarks of the past in the same way that photo albums capture memories. But songs seem to hold a much more vivid connection than some grainy, posed snapshot.

At some point in my life, I’d like to put together the list of songs. It’d be an emotional roller coaster to listen to end-to-end, but it would tell a story all the same. It’s an interesting story to recount and would certainly shed some light on how I’ve got to where I am today, but I’ve got a few more songs to add to that playlist yet.

Spent half the week in Tahoe for work. Also managed to make it on the hill strapped into a snowboard for the first time in over a decade. Even made some progress linking turns. Not too bad for a prairie boy.

And speaking of music, Godspeed You! Black Emperor plays SF next weekend. When I drove by the theatre last week, just seeing their name on the marquee. I’ve had to pass on trips to both Vegas, Vancouver, and Saskatoon, but I can die happy next weekend. Expect reports.

Back to it. One more day of our Tahoe retreat, before I have to face the debatably harsh reality of 9 to 5 again.

I was excited to go home this year because, among many other reasons, I finally had a good answer to “How do you like San Francisco?” Answer: It’s growing on me. Pre-Christmas, it felt like I was finally starting to put down roots and call the city my own. After spending two weeks back in Saskatoon, I came home to SF and immediately felt like a stranger again. Not to say anything changed, but everything’s so familiar on the prairie that relatively speaking, I am still a stranger. Why Vancouver always fit like an old pair of jeans coming back each time I can’t explain, but SF feels like wet swim trunks in comparison.

Someone actually pointed out that I’m a bit scattered between worlds. Saskatoon kids being the rough and tumble lot they are consider me a bit of an aloof urban nerd rather than the typical prairie male. San Francisco kids on the other hand see me as the token Canadian hoser. Sitting in Saskatoon listening to country tunes with my view of the snow covered river valley, while coordinating work deliverables and sipping french press coffee, I realized that both stereotypes are completely true. Recognizing my own personality tensions shocked me a little.

Now I’m sitting in my room listening to Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, sipping Canadian iced tea, and savoring the remnants of my welcome-home noodle bowl considering my next moves in 2011. I had a great conversation with a friend tonight about whether our current situation essentially describes the rest of working lives, and if it does, whether or not that’s a good thing. I blame the 26th birthday for sparking such discussions. 30 is now a undergrad degree away. Given the constant acceleration in the passing of time, that milestone will be upon me unacceptably quick. That fact worries me. Now more than ever, it feels like I need to have the ship moving in the direction I want to head lest exciting destinations fall away off the horizon. Until now, my five year plan has boiled down to cool shit I’d like to do, visit, or own. Something a little more aspirational and also concrete could certainly help.

As always, flights and visits home make me introspective. No need to drag this out any further for the moment. I’m quite sure I’ll have more to say going forward though.

Otherwise, trip was most successful. New Years with friends, great meals with the extended family, and a send off with representatives from every part of my Sask based life. Thanks to stupid people doing stupid things such as getting married, I’ve got a handful of trips back to the prairies for the summer myself.

In terms of resolutions, not much of interest for you dear reader. But I will make a concerted effort to have 2011 be more effectively captured here than 2010 was. Obviously I have not set the bar too high.

This post will likely wrap up what has been a fairly poor showing on this blog over the course of 2010. In fact, the full year’s worth of articles still fit on the front page. This is certainly a far cry from the once-a-day updates from which this little experiment had its beginnings. Looking back over the year, it’s easy to miss all of the amazing things that have happened: unbelievable trips, new friends, and hilarious stories. Unfortunately, my dependence on technology has stripped me of any ability to remember things myself so it’s easy to let it all blur together. The great thing about the long holiday season is that it gives me time to reflect on a bit of it.

Saskatoon is comfortable, the most appropriate word I’ve found. While there are new buildings and homes scattered around the city, the roads that connect it have the same feel as they always did. It’s been a full year since I’ve dealt with snow and similar temperatures, but it already feels natural for me to catch my breath in the temperature differential between the warm indoors and the biting elements outside.

But this year may mark the slow end of the legendary return trips I’ve had in the past. This year, more than any other, it feels like our collective roots are starting to drift away from Saskatoon. Some people weren’t able to make it back this year, others will or already have left town to visit friends and family elsewhere. Next year continues the growing trend of matrimony which will almost certainly scatter roots further. Even my own parents are reaching retirement and discussing whether Saskatoon is where they want to remain. All of this makes me feel as though the annual ad-hoc reunions may slowly be winding down. It’s impossible for me to recognize how sad this fact is at this time, but I need to stop taking it for granted and cherishing what attendees I can still manage to stir up.

Life in San Francisco hasn’t progressed too much, but that’s hardly a bad thing. Friends are great, new roommates and apartment are awesome, and the job continues to surprise me. There are things I still didn’t manage to work out this year (dog, long-term relationship) but progress was made on both fronts and I have a good feeling about 2011. Interesting trend, this year the gears were ground just a little harder on the girlfriend/fiancée (wtf?) front. I blame Facebook for making family members more concerned that this bohemian bachelor lifestyle of mine might not be 100% healthy. I also missed my own 2010 deadline to return to Canada and San Francisco continues to grow on me, so odds are mid-low that we’ll see a big shift in the new year. I hope to let more than just the career drive that decision though.

Between now and January 3rd, I’ll run into more family and friends, try to keep with their incredible prairie drinking pace, and enjoy a multitude of home cooked meals in the process. And while New Years plans will inevitably fall apart, it won’t matter. My combined birthday/Christmas gift of this trip home always brings more happiness than any gadget or ironic tshirt I’d end up buying for myself. Here’s hoping my fatalist prediction of dwindling Christmas get-togethers ends up being wrong or at least very delayed.

Ho ho ho!

I’m sitting in first class this time. Baller yes, but the pampering I’m receiving is setting unreasonable expectations for future flights. Case in point, I’m currently nursing a glass of the surprisingly tasty red wine that’s sitting directly next to the congac they served me before lunch. It’s excessive and I don’t think the stars will align on a similar flight for quite a while, but it’s certainly interesting to see how the other half lives.

Sydney was great, if a bit rushed. Managed to catch a couple of meals with the various team mates out there, as well as dinner/beer with BC, a long lost, but happily-found college friend. I’m off to Waterloo now which is bound to be a continuing series of blasts from the pasts. Bonus points for managing to squeeze in a trip to Montreal on the way back to at least grab dinner and a beer with Jer.

Movies are a little stale on this flight, but I managed to catch “Exit Through the Gift Ahop”, a documentary about Banksy and the street art movement, or at least that’s what I thought. Turns out it was actually about a somewhat eccentric cameraman turned street artist that spent a ton of time following these guys around before becoming one himself. While I have tremendous respect for the disruptive nature of the street artists featured in the first half, all the documentary did was further solidify my hatred for the formal art scene (and LA, sorry Abo).

Now I’m nice and reclined, mouthing the lyrics of a Feist song to myself. Add some wine to that and things are bound to become introspective.

It’s October now, officially on both sides of the international date line. 2010 has blitzed past at a pace I can hardly begin to comprehend. If I spend time recalling it, there’s been many an adventure. But when put on the spot, it only seems to have occurred and nothing more. I’m worried that my accelerating concept of time means less ability to reflect, to enjoy the little things. This gets back to the whole, “what am I doing with my life?” train of thought, which as you know dear reader, is a frequent, self-serving thread on this blog. I recognize this fact, but fuck it, I’m going for it anyway.

Turns out, I’m of three minds. On one hand, life’s pretty good. I’ve managed to strike a balance at work where I don’t feel like I’m killing myself. I’m not being as productive as I could be, but I’ll happily trade the early promotion for a few extra years of sanity. Another option is that I could accelerate the career. Silicon Valley seems to require you to switch companies in order to accomplish this, rising through the ranks is simply not an option. So I’ve got a pulse on the start up scene, but I’ve come across very little that I’d be willing to jump ship for. The other end of the spectrum is that I’ve been spending too much time on the career optimization over the last X years and it’s time to take a look at things with a different lens. This third option is a tougher change for me.

Oh, speaking of long term plans, my pledge to move back to Canada by 2010 is going to fall through – there I said it formally. I’m going to be in SF for all of 2010. Whether I make it through 2011 though is harder to call. We’ll see if Jer can sell me on Montreal this weekend.

I am sitting in Steve’s parent’s comfortable dining room overlooking the Juan De Fuca Strait and Port Angeles in the US on the other side. 24 hours ago to the minute, I was counting down the final meters as I approached the ferry at the end of the six day, 75 km adventure called the West Coast Trail (By the time I actually finished this, it was another day later on the ferry to Vancouver, and a further day before I actually hit publish – so sue me).

Our adventure began last Wednesday as Steve and I hovered over a massive spread of food, clothes, gear, and gadgets trying to determine who would take what, and what we should leave behind. Thursday morning came and we loaded our bags in a cab and headed to the airport. Steve’s elite status had us bumped up to first class so I enjoyed a draft pint of Guinness in the Air Canada lounge as we waited out our layover in Vancouver en route to Victoria. Once arrived, we made quick stops at the bank and at Costco for remaining supplies and then headed home to finalize our packs. My pack’s trail weight: 57 lbs.

At 6am the next morning, we headed out to meet the west coast express which hauled us and other bleary eyed hikers first to the Gordon River trailhead – where we would eventually finish – and then up through a five hour maze of unmarked logging roads to the Bamfield trail head, where we’d be starting our trip. After completing orientation, reading the trail updates, and doing one final check of our packs, we were on our way.

The trail itself was set up more than a century ago as a life saving trail for stranded survivors of ship wrecks along the coast of Vancouver Island. It consists of trails that wind up through the coastal headlands and down along the beaches over the coast. But a century of the elements has taken its toll on the trail and conditions vary wildly. Over 100 bridges, 50 ladders, three suspension bridges, and five hand carts dot the trail. In between the structures are some amounts of boardwalk, sand, mud, rocks, and roots. You’re constantly changing elevations, scrambling across boulders, and scaling person-height root structures. There are also two ferries over the course of the trail and two places that serve hot meals: one burger shack right on the beach and a small hut at one of the ferry crossings that serves fresh dungeness crab – both greatly appreciated in place of our dehydrated meals.

We started out at the Bamfield end of the trail which is considered the easier end. The first 50 km average about 20-30 minutes per KM depending on weather while the last 20-25 rocket up to over an hour per KM as the difficulty increases with worsening trail conditions. We cleared the first 58 KM in four days, taking two more to complete the remaining 17.

Each night we set up our tent at a campsite on the beach (the campsites are all located on beaches along the trail). There are no designated spots, but most sites have various tent shelters built up out of driftwood. Some campsites are more popular than others, but each night we’d set up camp, cook dinner, and huddle around a fire with some of our neighbours. It’s amazing how easy it is to get to know someone around a campfire. Bars should consider adding them.

Looking back now, the trip absolutely flew by, but there was thousands of interesting sights and stories along the way worth highlighting. Unfortunately, this post is already running long so I’ll limit my story to my favorite part of the trip: our arrival into the final campsite.

We had started the day in the muck of the forest, climbing ladders and scrambling roots hoping that the rain would stay away. Mid afternoon, we managed to time the tides so we could head out to the beach and lucked into some sun at the same time. This beach was large igneous rock shelves instead of sand as it was in the past which allowed us to make much better time, though there were a couple of surge channels that involved us throwing our packs across and jumping, or using rope to climb through the tree line. Around Owen’s Point, we ducked through the sea caves under the trees on the hill side above which were carved out by the millennia of tides against the point of the bay. I thought we were home free at this point, but I was completely underestimating the difficulty of the remaining 2km of bouldering that lie ahead of us.

Bouldering is fairly straightforward on a good day. When the boulders are slick from rain or seawater at high tide, it’s a different story. Throw a 50LB pack on your back and it complicates things much further. The bouldering leg was long and unmarked, but we made it with minimum injury. At one point, we paused to see a grey whale surface and spout just a few hundred feet out into the water. As the sun set for the day, we made it into Thrasher’s Cove, our last night of the trip. And after finding the last open camp site on the beach, we sat back and watched the fading pink sunlight over the lights of Port Renfrew which lie across the bay from our camp. The hamlet of Port Renfrew can’t be considered a bustling metropolis, but it was wonderful to see the sparks of civilization as we dried our gear and ate our last supper on the trail.

There’s so many other stories to tell: our run ins with hand carts, the two old couples we walked with for a couple days, Thorn Forest and Cullite creek, the Indian family, my knee, outhouses, the rain, the crab, campfires, and so much more. Instead, I’ll try and recap a few of the lessons I learned for anyone considering the WCT or that stumbles across this post in their preparation for their own trip.

Things that were essential on the trail
Walking poles – I’m quite sure these saved my life, or at least my ankles. I certainly would not have been able to complete the trail once my knee gave out without them. For balance on log bridges, for stability on tree roots and rocks, and for probing mudholes for solid footing, poles are absolutely indispensable.
Gatorade packets – We treated our water as we went along. The chemicals you mix in don’t taste too bad, but it’s nice to cover it with something a bit more appealing. The sugar in the packets also gives a nice energy kick and has the (potentially placebo) effect of hydrating quickly in the mornings – same reason Gatorade kicks ass for hang overs. Hmm, maybe I’ll have to start taking these packets to parties.
MSR Isopro Stove – This little guy was tiny, even with fuel, and could boil a pot of water in less than five minutes. It worked, rain or shine, for all the meals we needed. We brought a second fuel canister just in case, but never needed it.
Toilet Paper – There’s none at any of the outhouses and in the seven day period, you’re damn well going to need your own.
Ear plugs – All camp sites are right on the beach, which means lots of wave noise (particularly at Thrashers Cove and Cullite Creek). As well, if you’re like me, you’re some what paranoid about the various wild animals that you happen to be sharing the park with which means being hyper-aware of every twig snap for the entire night. Do yourself a favor and get some sleep with some ear plugs in.

Things I wouldn’t bring again
Bear Vault – This thing is awesome and I’ll definitely use it for other camping trips. But all the official camp grounds on the WCT have large bear bins for all the food so the extra 2lbs just for the canister was excessive.
Reading material – I brought my Kindle with me, but this applies to any books. Unless you’re planning on completing the trail in more than 8 days and thus will have a lot of down time, there’s just not a lot of reading time. After setting up camp and cooking dinner, the evening’s entertainment usually involves sitting around the fire with one of your neighbours swapping stories and advice about the trail and talking about where everyone’s from (lots of people from the prairies). You can read by the time you crawl into you tent, but sleep was much more compelling at that point.
Cell phone (unless it’s on a really old school network) – There’s no GSM network coverage on the west coast trail, according to our unscientific experiment. The rangers state that certain campsites do get some cell phone coverage, but I suspect it’s with the really old analog networks. So unless you’ve got your old circa 2002 nokia lying around, leave the cellphones at home. One exception may be alarm clock, but there’s cheaper replacements for this that you won’t be upset about if they break.

Things that I missed the most
There are some obvious answers here: pizza, showers. Beer surprisingly did not make this list. One that surprised me though was music. As we sat at the trail head cafe waiting for our ride at the end of the trip, the cafe stereo played Hurts to Love You by the Philosopher Kings (side note: Famous, Rich and Beautiful was a great album – another example of how 1997 was the single best year for music of our generation) and I got chills. If I have an addiction of any sort, it’s not to sex, drugs, or alcohol, it’s to music.

Would I do it again?
Maybe. If I did, I’d do it at a slower pace. There’s lots to see along the way and it’s worth taking some time to take it in.

What’s next?
Hard to say, but I’m leaning towards Machu Picchu. Takers?

I’m hanging out in Portland International Airport waiting for my flight back to San Francisco, hopefully my last flight for at least a month. I was shipped out to Portland for a week to represent the company at a conference. It didn’t too much convincing; I’d been hearing great things about Portland for quite a while. In fact, it was the last remaining list of cool kid western cities (others being Seattle, San Francisco, Austin, and Vancouver). It’s common knowledge that I have very strong feelings for a couple of the cities on that list so it’s fair to say that I had high expectations. 6 days later, I’m happy to report that my expectations were far exceeded. Portland, I think I love you.

On the convention: Tech conventions are necessarily weird. This one was no exception, but I learned a ton nonetheless. I won’t bore this crowd with the details, but definitely worth my time. I was a little heartbroken I had to miss the conference that followed ours afterwards: The three-day Bead Fair. I am sure there is a hilarious mockumentary in that crowd.

But why Portland? Portland may in fact be everything I love about Vancouver and Austin, but in a city that reminds me a lot of Saskatoon. The city is amazing. I spent most of mine time in the downtime that straddles the Willamette River. A long series of bridges dot the river just as they do in Saskatoon. The downtown is filled with people all the time, has great shops, bars, breweries, restaurants, in addition to an amazing (and free!) light rail system. I saw a number of bands while I was in town (check out Admiral Radley which counts a couple members of Grandaddy as part of the group). I stayed at a great hotel. I wore more wristbands during the trip than the last six months. I ate wonderful food and drank amazing beer. I lucked out that the Oregon Brew Fest happened to start just as my trip was ending so I managed to take in a pint along the banks of the river. I walked everywhere. And the locals are awesome. Lots of hipsters but much friendlier than your typical west coast hipster, not so aloof. I immediately felt welcome.

And, I managed to make it to the Doug Fir Lounge. I hope that name brings back cherished memories for those of you that did fourth year in Waterloo. For everyone else, the Doug Fir Lounge was the name of the party room/music listening space/attic in our apartment. We had named it after this Doug Fir thanks to some old KCRW live set, with no expectations of ever setting foot in the actual Doug Fir. To sit down along the wooden log bar and drink yet another local craft beer was almost a home coming for me, even though the actual memories I was remembering were took place on the other side of the continent. Surprisingly the decor of both Firs weren’t all that different. Maybe it was fate.

I had some great times with coworkers, I ran into customers that I’d only ever talked to by email, I met some hilarious guys from the BBC, and hung out with some great locals as well. It was always sunny, warm, and green, and no one died of dysentery.

So yes, Portland rocks. Vancouver and Austin please make room on the list. I could definitely see myself living in Portland.