I stayed up late last night getting to some old pictures and as a result getting closer to being caught up. All this while I try to get ready to lead a trip to Gash point in the Selway – Bitterroot Wilderness. The pictures are of a trip I took with the Rocky Mountaineers to Squaw Peak … oops, I cant say that. Well, I just did, so sue me. No really!
On a political note, I just took a political test that is supposed to be pretty accurate. I am proud to be a Socialist … does anyone know any Socialists running for office?
I confess, I should be skiing right now. Yet, here I am, after a night spent editing photos and setting up Adobe CS for speedier workflow. While browsing Outside Missoula and today’s news over mocha (cheers to Paul for the Ghirardelli’s), I stumbled upon a tech that might revolutionize grocery shopping: paying with your finger.
“The service debits the consumer’s checking account without them writing a check or using an ATM card,” explains Jon Siegal from Pay By Touch. “It’s more secure, as there’s no number to be copied or stolen.”
TechWeb.com shared this innovation. It seems convenient, avoiding PINs or passwords with the uniqueness of a fingerprint. But what if an injury like a mountain bike crash alters your fingerprint?
Navigating the Quirks and Quandaries of Missoula Life
Missoula, a town with a personality as big as Montana’s sky, often presents itself as a tapestry woven with the threads of community spirit, natural beauty, and, unexpectedly, moments of discord that remind us of the complexity of human nature. My recent experiences, echoed by local commentator Jamie Kelly’s sharp wit in the Missoulian’s Entertainer, bring to light the nuanced dance between embracing this community and navigating its challenges.
One morning, as I drove past Sentinel High School, my car—a beetle, not a Californian billboard—became the unintended target of a young person’s frustration, manifested as a piece of wood. This incident, minor yet jarring, served as a stark reminder of the unexpected moments of aggression lurking in the shadows of Missoula’s serene landscape. It’s not just about a piece of wood or a car; it’s about the assumptions and quick judgments that punctuate our daily interactions in this town.
Jamie Kelly, with his characteristic blend of humor and insight, seems to understand this dance well. Through his writings, he captures the essence of Missoula’s identity crisis—proudly insular yet struggling with the concept of the “other.” His articles, like a mirror, reflect the absurdity and beauty of our communal life, highlighting the tension between wanting to preserve the essence of Missoula and the reality of its evolving demographic and cultural landscape.
Amidst these reflections, my personal saga with Best Buy—a mundane episode of consumer grievance—unexpectedly paralleled the broader narrative of belonging and conflict. A morning call from Bob, the manager, promised a resolution to my lingering laptop saga, yet it felt like another chapter in the ongoing story of navigating community relationships and personal rights in a small town.
In my blog, “Is it Safe in Missoula?”, I’ve often pondered the safety and welcoming nature of our town. These recent events, coupled with Jamie Kelly’s satirical observations, underscore a vital conversation about the kind of community we aspire to be. Do we choose to embrace the quirks and challenges with open arms, or do we retreat into the comfort of the familiar, wary of the unknown?
Missoula is more than its picturesque landscapes and vibrant cultural scene; it’s a community at a crossroads, grappling with the realities of change, conflict, and coexistence. As we navigate these waters, let’s remember the power of dialogue, empathy, and a good sense of humor, as championed by voices like Jamie Kelly’s, to guide us through the complexities of life in this beautiful, baffling town.
Ah, the classic tale of tech woes, right? There I was last night, ready to have a chill online chat with Mom and Sis, thinking, “Hey, multitasking! I can set up my laptop AND gossip!” Famous last words, folks.
So, picture this: I’m there, clicking away, when my laptop decides it’s time travel day and poof, we’re back in 2004. Naturally, chaos ensues. Reboot? Crash. Rinse and repeat. I’m telling you, it was like a bad comedy skit, minus the laugh track.
Hours later, I emerge victorious (or so I thought), only to be lured by the siren call of ‘updates’. Big mistake. My chat window might as well have had tumbleweeds rolling through it. And to add insult to injury, my weekly dad chat got axed. Thanks, technology!
This morning, as I sat amidst a half-setup laptop, a revelation hit me. Maybe life’s better off the grid? But let’s not get too dramatic. I did sneak in a bike ride (classic Bill style) and have a hike lined up. So, in the grand scheme of things, maybe it’s not all doom and gloom. Just your average day in the life of a tech-troubled outdoor enthusiast!
My computer’s still a bit wonky, but I’m fixing it tonight. Also, I’m excited to join our weekly eMeeting, “Friends and Family On-line” again. I’m getting my photography software back up, so watch out for new photos soon! https://search.brave.com/search?q=photography&source=desktop
Got my computer back yesterday, but it’s a mess with corrupted settings. They “fixed” it, but it’s barely running. So, skipped my outing to do a fresh install. Now I’m at Break Expresso, downloading endless Windows XP updates. I’ve got a table and I’m not leaving until 9 PM. Long way to go to get it working right.
Those Geek Squadders really botched it. Thanks for the PC headache, guys.
Back in 2004, I spent a fortune on a laptop and service plan from Best Buy. Big mistake!
So, in July 2005, my power cord fails. Typical. I drag my feet, then in November, the screen goes wonky. “It’s quirky,” I shrugged.
Come December, my DVD/CD writer quits. Reluctantly, I take it in. Cue endless calls to Best Buy: “waiting on parts” from December 20th-27th. Typical.
January 2006, my complaint’s ignored, and a vague response comes on the 5th. On the 6th, they finally ship it, but now the modem’s busted. They guess it’s the motherboard, promising an 8-day fix.
The drama continues: shipping woes, a Montana DOJ complaint, BIOS password mix-ups, and more delays. I’m losing it.
January 23rd, I loop in the DOJ. The laptop’s back on the 27th, but finding it’s a joke. On the 29th, I’m playing tech support, fixing software and registry issues.
Surprise, February 2nd, the store manager calls! We chat on the 3rd, but it’s pointless.
This isn’t just tech trouble; it’s a comedy of errors and a lesson in repair service nightmares. It tested my patience, but hey, it’s a great campfire story!
Time for a blog update. My Lolo Peak trip didn’t happen, but my car sure took a trip to the bottom of South Fork Lolo Creek Gulch. Thankfully, with a friend’s help, we hiked in, chained it up, and drove it out. Makes the Best Buy laptop issue seem minor.
Speaking of Best Buy, still no computer, which means missing another Friends and Family Online. A reminder: avoid Best Buy’s service plans. It’s been 40 days without blogging or emailing from my own computer.
The Rocky Mountaineers’ Ski Adventure to Lolo Peak
The alarm buzzes at the ungodly hour of 4:30 AM, but there’s no snoozing today. It’s the kind of Saturday where sleep feels like a luxury I can’t afford, not with the Rocky Mountaineers’ trip to Lolo Peak looming excitingly ahead. I’m the trip leader this time, a role I volunteered for with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Memories of last year’s expedition fuel my planning, promising a blend of challenge and sheer beauty.
Our meetup point is the K-Mart parking lot in Missoula, 6 AM sharp. There’s something about the predawn gathering of like-minded adventurers that sets the tone for the day – a shared anticipation, the silent nod to the journey ahead. I aim to hit the trail by 7ish, keen to embrace the crisp morning air.
The South Fork Lolo Trail-head, our starting point, is a familiar friend. We’ll journey up highway 12, taking a left on Elk Meadows road. Then it’s up to the elusive access road, hidden to the left behind a gate – our gateway to the wild. Chains on tires are a must, a non-negotiable given the treacherous winter roads. No chains, no trip, a rule as rigid as the frozen ground we’re about to tread.
The first stretch of our journey, trekking up the South Fork of Lolo Creek Trail, is a gradual warm-up. Within 1 to 2 hours, we reach a crucial junction, marking our turn towards Lantern Ridge. It’s a steady climb, but the promise of the ridge keeps our spirits high and our strides steady.
Once we crest Lantern Ridge, the real adventure begins. Off the beaten path, we’ll navigate along the ridge, each step a dance with nature’s unpredictability. Our skis, our trusted allies until now, will be left behind for the final ascent to Lolo Peak. This rocky, windy summit climb is a test of endurance, a battle against the elements, and a journey inward.
As we near the peak, the world seems to open up, a panorama of rugged beauty that stretches out beneath us. Five hours from our cars, yet it feels like we’ve stepped into another world. The summit, with its howling winds and breathtaking views, is our reward, a moment of triumph and reflection.
I’ve gotta tell you about this wild thing I read in the Missoulian recently. So, Wayne and Paula Frederiksen were out with their dog, Pepper, up Lolo Creek, right? Suddenly, two dogs just come out of nowhere and attack Pepper and their other dog, Mona Lisa. It was so bad that Wayne got bitten trying to protect them, and poor Mona Lisa… well, she didn’t make it. The owner of those attacking dogs is facing a court date now.
This got me thinking about our own walks with Marcy. Remember how we’ve bumped into some not-so-friendly dogs on the trail? It’s like their owners have this ‘alpha’ vibe and their dogs just follow suit, trying to dominate every pooch they see. Honestly, it’s getting to a point where I feel like next time some dog tries to pull a dominance move on Marcy, I’m gonna lose it. But, you know me, I’d rather not go down the road of fights and drama.
So, I’ve been brainstorming some smarter ways to handle this. First off, maybe we should steer clear of those notorious spots where we’ve seen aggressive dogs before. I’m also thinking about getting one of those dog deterrent sprays – they say it’s a safe way to keep an aggressive dog at bay without hurting it.
And if we do run into trouble, I’m all for reporting it. Let the authorities handle the owners who can’t control their pets. Plus, I’m considering some self-defense classes, just to feel more confident out there, you know?
But hey, I also want to make sure we’re not carrying around this fear every time we hit the trails. We’re out there to have a good time, after all. So, let’s keep our walks with Marcy fun and safe, without turning them into some kind of showdown at the dog park, yeah?
And if you guys come across any tips or have ideas, throw them my way. Let’s make sure our trail adventures stay awesome!
Ever have one of those days where adventure and a bit of misfortune go hand in hand? Well, let me take you on a little ride through my latest escapade. It all began with a blissful two-hour journey up the Blackfoot, the kind of ride that fills your soul with pure, unadulterated joy.
The Blackfoot River, with its meandering trails and breathtaking views, was the perfect escape. I was pedaling away, lost in the rhythm of the ride, the fresh air, and the scenery. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate the great outdoors and the simple pleasure of a bike ride.
But, as they say, what goes up must come down. In this case, quite literally. Returning home, in a twist of fate that only life can concoct, my bike took a tumble. And guess what it took with it? Yep, my toe. The pedal, in a not-so-graceful move, decided to make an acquaintance with my toe, leaving me with a pain that felt suspiciously like a break.
I went to bed hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Miraculously, by morning, it felt better, not perfect, but definitely not broken. Call it luck, call it resilience, or just call it a good old-fashioned toe miracle.
Now, here’s where the plot thickens. Despite the soreness, I’m gearing up for another ride today, this time up to the South Fork Lolo to Lantern Ridge. As I walk to the coffee shop, prepping for the ride, I can feel the soreness in my foot with each step. It’s a reminder of yesterday’s mishap, but also a testament to the fact that a little soreness isn’t going to hold me back.
Resources to Enhance Your Day:
Biking the Blackfoot: Interested in exploring the Blackfoot area on two wheels? Check this out. Bike the Blackfoot
First Aid for Cyclists: Got a pedal-to-toe mishap? Here’s how to handle biking injuries. Cycling First Aid
Trail Guide to South Fork Lolo: Planning a ride to Lantern Ridge? Here’s your guide. Explore South Fork Lolo
Coffee Shops for Cyclists: Find the best coffee shops to fuel up before your ride. Cyclist’s Coffee Guide
So, off I go, a little wiser, a bit sore, but undeterred. Here’s to the rides that teach us, the mishaps that remind us of our resilience, and the coffee that fuels us. Let’s keep pedaling, folks, sore toes and all! 🚴
Hey there, friends! Greetings from Break Expresso, a snug little coffee shop in Montana. Today’s vibe here is taking me on a nostalgic trip back to my East Coast days, especially with the music floating through the air. It’s the kind of soundtrack I’d pair with those cherished east coast slideshows. Adding to this trip down memory lane is a bumper sticker I spotted – “Ski Mad River Glen, If you can”. It’s like a blast from the past!
Then there’s my buddy Paul, who’s likely enjoying his mocha at Muddy Waters in Burlington. Ah, Muddy Waters, quite possibly the coolest coffee spot ever. Just thinking about it makes me miss the East a bit more.
But, let’s pivot to the present in Montana. Today’s agenda? A scenic bike ride along the Blackfoot River, some DIY furniture crafting with plexiglass and cardboard boxes, and a fun project to send a slideshow CD to my friends.
About last night, though. It was the usual – laundry, followed by a night out at Kettle House. Let’s just say the Double Haul IPA was, as always, impressive. My post-drinking adventure involved devouring an entire pint of chocolate ice cream, leading to a peculiar hangover (is it the sugar or the alcohol? Who knows!).
So, here I am at Break, armed with a giant cinnamon roll and coffee, ready to embrace the day. It’s not Muddy Waters, but it’s the closest I can get to those East Coast vibes while chilling in Montana.
Kicked off the day on a high note with news that Maryland’s making Wal-Mart cough up for Medicare expenses. Talk about a twist!
But then, work happened. Opened my bike bag to a scene straight out of a raspberry daiquiri nightmare. Yep, everything’s got a lovely shade of ‘accidental smoothie’.
To cap it off, I’m returning a now raspberry-hued movie to Blockbuster tonight. Bet they haven’t seen this before!
Here I am, perched on University Ridge, where the night paints its masterpiece in contrasting strokes. To my right, the lights of Missoula twinkle like a constellation grounded on earth, a gentle reminder of human presence in the vastness of night. To my left, an open ridge unfolds, its golden grasses dancing gracefully in the moonlight, as if swaying to a melody only the night wind knows.
The moon, in its full glory tonight, shines with an intensity that rivals the headlights of an oncoming car. Its luminous beams, so unexpectedly brilliant, make me wish for sunglasses – a whimsical thought in this nocturnal serenity. The light bathes the landscape in a surreal glow, turning the ordinary into something magical.
But as the night deepens, so does the chill in the air. It’s a crisp reminder of nature’s indifference to human comfort. The cold nips at my skin, whispering that it’s time to leave this moonlit reverie. Reluctantly, I prepare to hike down, carrying with me the memories of this serene moment on University Ridge, where the moon was my companion, and the night, my canvas.
Double Dipper Adventure: Pengally Ridge to Sentinel Peaks
Today’s hike was a tale of two peaks and a path less traveled. I embarked on what I fondly call the ‘Double Dipper’ – a journey that starts with an ascent up Pengally Ridge, winds to the summit of South Sentinel, and then navigates over to Main Sentinel. The trek is a blend of endurance and agility, a dance with nature’s rugged terrain.
Reaching the top of South Sentinel felt like conquering a small kingdom. The view from here stretches far and wide, a canvas of nature’s grand design. But the journey wasn’t over. I then made my way to Main Sentinel, where the landscape shifts subtly, offering a new perspective of the world below.
The traverse between the two mountains presented its own challenge. Here, ice had claimed the path, turning each step into a careful negotiation with the elements. This section tested my resolve, a slippery bridge between two majestic peaks.
Despite the icy obstacle, the weather was an ally for most of the hike. The air was crisp, with a gentle breeze that grew more playful atop the peaks. It was nature’s own soundtrack, a symphony of wind and rustling leaves.
From start to finish, this ‘Double Dipper’ took me around 1 hour and 45 minutes. It was a journey marked by breathtaking vistas, challenging transitions, and the serene beauty of the great outdoors. As I descended back to my car parked at Gas Alley, there was a sense of accomplishment, a feeling that only comes from embracing the adventure and unpredictability of nature’s paths.
What a day! Picture this – you finally get your computer back after a month-long hiatus, dreams of tackling that mountain of emails dancing in your head. Then, bam! The modem waves a white flag. Off you trot to Best Buy, only to hear the dreaded words: “It might be the motherboard.” And just like that, your beloved tech is California-bound once more.
It’s like waiting for a soufflé that never rises, isn’t it? At what point do you throw in the towel and demand a new computer? Or better yet, when do you get the green light to launch the old one into the scenic Blackfoot River? Talk about a dramatic end to a tech saga!
This blog post is a deviation from my New Year’s resolution of crafting only cheery stories. But hey, life has its own plans, right? Sometimes, it serves you lemons, and other times, it hands you a faulty modem.
So here’s to the ups and downs, the tech troubles, and the whimsical thoughts of giving our gadgets a watery farewell. Who knows, maybe a fish might appreciate a motherboard more than we do!
Ever have one of those days where everything feels like an uphill battle? That was me today, coming down University Mountain with a head full of thoughts about my sidelined computing passions. My trusty computer, a gateway to my hobbies and livelihood in programming, photography, and web communication, is out of commission. And today, I found out the wait’s not over yet.
But let’s talk about tonight’s adventure – a classic tale of urban frustration. Picture this: I’m all set for the Friends and Family Online Meeting. First stop, Break Espresso. Sounds simple, right? Not so fast! Not a single seat in sight. So, what’s a person to do? Embark on a chilly quest through the streets, hunting for that elusive Wi-Fi signal.
Imagine me, braving the cold, phone in hand, eyes peeled for a hotspot. Alas, the Internet gods weren’t smiling down on me tonight. In the end, I found myself huddled outside the Kettle House, squeezing out a post to my group as they closed up shop.
And here’s where I hit another bump – my PDA’s clipboard is full. Yep, technology’s really testing my patience today. So, I’ll have to wrap up this blog here. But hey, every cloud has a silver lining, right? At least I got to enjoy a scenic walk through our lovely town, even if it was a bit on the frosty side!
There’s something magical about hiking in Missoula, especially when you find yourself on University Mountain Ridge. The contrast of elements can be astonishing – one moment you’re bathed in golden sunshine, the next, you’re nestled under a tree, facing a brisk wind and a slightly chilly afternoon.
That’s exactly where Marcy and I found ourselves on this day in January 2006. We had just hiked up to my favorite secluded spot. As we looked off toward Lolo Peak, the valley below was a dazzling canvas of sunlight, while our little nook seemed to embrace the cloud and wind with a stubborn, yet cozy charm.
Looking westward, the drama of the Montana landscape unfolded – a snowstorm brewing over the Nine Mile Valley. But here, on the ridge, the snow was sparse. The trail was nearly dry, offering a glimpse of summer hiking bliss. If not for the biting wind and the occasional shooting pain running down my leg, I could almost fool myself into thinking it was a warm, lazy day in July.
Marcy, ever the adventurous companion, seemed unfazed by the weather. She trotted along, her tail wagging in that infectious way dogs have when they’re simply happy to be out and about with their human.
But the reality of winter hiking soon caught up with me. My thumbs, bearing the brunt of the cold, started to feel like icicles. It was a clear signal – time to head back down. The thought of heated seats in the car beckoned like a warm embrace after a long day.
As we made our way down, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for these small adventures. They’re the ones that stitch together the fabric of our memories, filled with contrasting hues of weather, warmth, and the companionship of a loyal dog.
Boneshakerbike 