30 July, 2010
29 July, 2010
There's no knowings when it's slow goings.
On the second day we'd both woken up hours enough into the morning that either of us asking "what do we do now?" eventually seemed like a rational conversation starter. And while my requirements in visiting MT included camping and fishing, I figured pacing such experiences was appropriate. So after some Food Network and web browsing it was decided we gravitate towards Main Street (which could just as easily be named 'Only Street') for food and sight-seeing. Once we'd become situated & discussions on the benefits of televising House of Commons meetings had exhausted, we'd set out.
Breakfast wound up being burritos and hot sauce in the late morning. Both were pleasantly authentic - to the point of me having to refuse true 'hot' sauce due by my friend and the restaurant owner's insistence...I sneaked some into my meal anyway (strictly for testing purposes) and I'll be damned if that didn't make my nose and eyes water like a bastard even as we walked away from the table. Hey - I'd learned something new that morning!
From there we ventured to a record shop, yet all I found of interest amounted to overpriced, cheaply made accessories (currently I'm dually peeved/delighted that I can't find examples of the shirts and can-cozies that made me smile with which to enlighten you).
I'm telling ya, I couldn't even justify the switchblade comb; I just knew I'd kick myself by finding it somewhere else for ten dollars cheaper. However it was great to see the large amount of indie Americana albums there. Not surprising, mind you, but great.
Shop-wise there wasn't much else to peruse which didn't either sell outdoor equipment or drinks to enhance your enjoyment of said equipment. So after the second shop I conceded that "we really should get to fishing."
And this, dear readers, is where our story begins.
Breakfast wound up being burritos and hot sauce in the late morning. Both were pleasantly authentic - to the point of me having to refuse true 'hot' sauce due by my friend and the restaurant owner's insistence...I sneaked some into my meal anyway (strictly for testing purposes) and I'll be damned if that didn't make my nose and eyes water like a bastard even as we walked away from the table. Hey - I'd learned something new that morning!
From there we ventured to a record shop, yet all I found of interest amounted to overpriced, cheaply made accessories (currently I'm dually peeved/delighted that I can't find examples of the shirts and can-cozies that made me smile with which to enlighten you).
I'm telling ya, I couldn't even justify the switchblade comb; I just knew I'd kick myself by finding it somewhere else for ten dollars cheaper. However it was great to see the large amount of indie Americana albums there. Not surprising, mind you, but great.
Shop-wise there wasn't much else to peruse which didn't either sell outdoor equipment or drinks to enhance your enjoyment of said equipment. So after the second shop I conceded that "we really should get to fishing."
And this, dear readers, is where our story begins.
22 July, 2010
...and, Bob's your uncle.
Alright, I've had the better part of a week to get my ducks in a row and summarize my trip out West to Bozetucky/Bozeangeles, and it seems like I've all but given up. Much like when I was there. Well, let it never be said that I am a complete quitter. Here's day one:
I did not want to go on vacation.
While mostly untrue, I had plenty reason to dread this particular trip to Montana. At the time I faced these truths:
1. The only way to travel required driving 15 hours each way in a vehicle I'd just rescinded on replacing (from what appeared to be serious engine issues but wound up requiring only slight repairs)
2. Though affordable, all said and done I'd likely be dealing with a pricey stay at my friend's place that week (potential car troubles aside)
3. From arrival to departure, I was looking at only a handful of days to spend around a friend I only get to see about once a year, if that (incidentally, this wound up being its own counter-argument)
4. The night before I was to leave I slept terribly.
5. TWO FIFTEEN HOUR DRIVES
So I wake up, drag myself from the sheets and shower up. While eating breakfast I review the weather and find that a solid storm is expected along the way. Suddenly my distaste for driving in heavy rain magnified tenfold as I considered the list above. Had anyone said, "Gee, maybe you should hold off" I would have put the computer to sleep and followed suit.
But hell. I had ten days - mid summer - away from work and anything resembling it. Add to that the only place my friend was moving to in the near future was at least 100 miles furter West - it then became time to put on my Man Pants (in this case shorts) and get on the road.
As I left city limits the sky was a beautiful gray (dark + no rain = beauty; think of a goth Blind Melon) and it was early enough that there was no one on the back roads to slow me down (also - being a Sunday morning - nary a cop to care). Heading through the northern parts of Minnesota I was reminded of the same path I took seven years prior in moving to PDX, while the music I played rang hints of a much earlier trip to the Portland of the East. Music, as you would imagine, played a large part in the drive. My past few long hauls included long periods of silence shared with whatever the AM stations provided but this time I was more interested in soaking up albums I'd abandoned intentionally or accidentally from years ago. For example, I was reminded that somewhere, somehow, I lost my copy of MXPX's Slowly Going The Way Of The Buffalo which, oddly enough, I felt was also their best album. Which reminds me...
By the end of the drive I'd crowned myself King of the Road as I'd only stopped when necessary: three stops to re/defuel myself and the car - and while making good overall time I never once stirred the 5-0. Although as it should be, just as I made it into BZN city limits I hit a rare construction detour and promptly led some cop cars through the maze of orange cones - all at the refreshing speed of 20 MPH (it wasn't that refreshing).
All in all the day's travels felt like a total of four hours - no joke. Almost as soon as I'd gotten on the road I was in great spirits, and thankfully that held out all day long. I was also under the impression that my host was working that day until 10, so being that it was 9 I stopped at a WalMart just outside of town (it's all they have) to pick up some essentials I'd forgotten. In town I messaged him on my arrival and said I'd stop by a pub until he got home. He then mentioned he'd taken the day off for the World Cup. Honestly, that I didn't figure this out beforehand is my own fault. It would have been nice to have an extra day there (and to have seen that game), but I wasn't going to leave that Saturday...and being what it was, I'm glad I didn't.
Finally I arrived, I unpacked a bit, and then we swapped some local brews along with well-wishes. Just as I'd remembered it, Casey's place was comfy and full of fans on full-blast. And, surprisingly enough, I was still pretty alert so we stayed up a bit enjoying and shooting the breeze.
But once I moved from the floor to the couch, the previous night's lack of sleep kicked in and we called it a night. So far no plans for the week were set, and I was sure glad I'd kept my Man Pants (shorts) handy.
Tomorrow: The Dangers of Being Friendly
*I also learned that all this time I've been badmouthing Fargo, when it turns out that Billings is the city I can't stand. Billings.
I did not want to go on vacation.
While mostly untrue, I had plenty reason to dread this particular trip to Montana. At the time I faced these truths:
1. The only way to travel required driving 15 hours each way in a vehicle I'd just rescinded on replacing (from what appeared to be serious engine issues but wound up requiring only slight repairs)
2. Though affordable, all said and done I'd likely be dealing with a pricey stay at my friend's place that week (potential car troubles aside)
3. From arrival to departure, I was looking at only a handful of days to spend around a friend I only get to see about once a year, if that (incidentally, this wound up being its own counter-argument)
4. The night before I was to leave I slept terribly.
5. TWO FIFTEEN HOUR DRIVES
So I wake up, drag myself from the sheets and shower up. While eating breakfast I review the weather and find that a solid storm is expected along the way. Suddenly my distaste for driving in heavy rain magnified tenfold as I considered the list above. Had anyone said, "Gee, maybe you should hold off" I would have put the computer to sleep and followed suit.
But hell. I had ten days - mid summer - away from work and anything resembling it. Add to that the only place my friend was moving to in the near future was at least 100 miles furter West - it then became time to put on my Man Pants (in this case shorts) and get on the road.
As I left city limits the sky was a beautiful gray (dark + no rain = beauty; think of a goth Blind Melon) and it was early enough that there was no one on the back roads to slow me down (also - being a Sunday morning - nary a cop to care). Heading through the northern parts of Minnesota I was reminded of the same path I took seven years prior in moving to PDX, while the music I played rang hints of a much earlier trip to the Portland of the East. Music, as you would imagine, played a large part in the drive. My past few long hauls included long periods of silence shared with whatever the AM stations provided but this time I was more interested in soaking up albums I'd abandoned intentionally or accidentally from years ago. For example, I was reminded that somewhere, somehow, I lost my copy of MXPX's Slowly Going The Way Of The Buffalo which, oddly enough, I felt was also their best album. Which reminds me...
By the end of the drive I'd crowned myself King of the Road as I'd only stopped when necessary: three stops to re/defuel myself and the car - and while making good overall time I never once stirred the 5-0. Although as it should be, just as I made it into BZN city limits I hit a rare construction detour and promptly led some cop cars through the maze of orange cones - all at the refreshing speed of 20 MPH (it wasn't that refreshing).
All in all the day's travels felt like a total of four hours - no joke. Almost as soon as I'd gotten on the road I was in great spirits, and thankfully that held out all day long. I was also under the impression that my host was working that day until 10, so being that it was 9 I stopped at a WalMart just outside of town (it's all they have) to pick up some essentials I'd forgotten. In town I messaged him on my arrival and said I'd stop by a pub until he got home. He then mentioned he'd taken the day off for the World Cup. Honestly, that I didn't figure this out beforehand is my own fault. It would have been nice to have an extra day there (and to have seen that game), but I wasn't going to leave that Saturday...and being what it was, I'm glad I didn't.
Finally I arrived, I unpacked a bit, and then we swapped some local brews along with well-wishes. Just as I'd remembered it, Casey's place was comfy and full of fans on full-blast. And, surprisingly enough, I was still pretty alert so we stayed up a bit enjoying and shooting the breeze.
But once I moved from the floor to the couch, the previous night's lack of sleep kicked in and we called it a night. So far no plans for the week were set, and I was sure glad I'd kept my Man Pants (shorts) handy.
Tomorrow: The Dangers of Being Friendly
*I also learned that all this time I've been badmouthing Fargo, when it turns out that Billings is the city I can't stand. Billings.
18 July, 2010
15 July, 2010
Deepest Apologies
...as much as I craved pizza, I couldn't bring myself to order it even if via the internet. If this creates a rift that severs friendships, know I will start a campaign which stretches to grade schoolers and beyond: do not blueball a night filled with the possibility of pizza.
Bike cycles
I can't remember the last time I rode a bicycle whose breaks were harbored within the pedals. This. Is an experience.
14 July, 2010
DO NOT FEED THE TOWELS
So an old favorite of a place; the men's room stanks of urine and offers a two-tiered option for condoms via vending machines, yet still is pretty damned great. No buffalo gals tonight, however.
13 July, 2010
About as hard as it looks
After maybe three years secured in packaging, hidden amongst the things in my trunk I have finally opened up this fly rod.
I insisted that I use my own rod for fishing, resulting in the debacle you see above. Tying is trying enough when you know what you're doing. This, this is, well, not awesome.
Done now though and I feel like a champion!
11 July, 2010
:(
Just found a new item to add to 'dislikes' under the info for my inevitable Mr. October spread:
"Driving behind livestock"
Scenes from Medina
Not too much in the ways of landmarks in Medina (save for the drive-thru church), so I had to make do.
Speech-to-text software: a work in progress.
Recent text exchange between me and tonight's host, updating him on my progress:
-Just hit margo
-Good. She's a bitch.
So it goes.
I didn't even know there was a contest...
Just passed a joint named The Velvet Antler. We have a winner!
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