Travel From Jason

Moderate Hikes Near Glacier National Park With Stunning Views beautiful

2021-09-20T00:00:00Z

Moderate Hikes Near Glacier National Park With Stunning Views beautiful

It's tricky to gauge if you’ll be comfortable on a trail when looking at labels like “easy,” “moderate,” or “difficult.” And even harder when you try applying those labels to the hiker. Am I a moderate-level hiker? If you compare me to dudes that hike up a mountain for two days, then no. I am a beginner at best. But, compared to other “day hikers,” those who hike 10-mile loops, then yeah, I would say I am in the moderate range.

I can hike about 10 miles on mostly flat ground before I get cranky. If the elevation gain is greater than 1,500, that distance drops down to about 6 miles. If we’re talking 2,000 feet of elevation gain, I'm complaining pretty much from mile two.

Now that you know what kind of day hiker I am, here are a few hikes around Glacier National Park that were in my comfort zone or just out of it.

Check it: always check to see if a trail is open. Nature doesn't care about our plans. Harsh weather, bear activity, and time of year can close all or part of a trail. I like to use the AllTrails app or the National Park Service website to check on the status of a trail.

Lion Mountain Trail #

2.6 miles | 351 ft | Loop

The effort-to-payoff ratio for this trail is in your favor. I hiked Lion Mountain Trail in Whitefish, MT (30 minutes from Glacier) to get used to the elevation and to get those hiking muscles working again after the long drive from Atlanta, GA. The view of the lake is beautiful. I even found a piece of free art at the top.

Check it: this trail is dusty af. Don't wear your good boots unless you want to clean them after.

Danny On Trail #

7.2 miles | 2,034 ft | Out-and-back

This trail was a challenge. I foolishly assumed that the 7.2 miles of this out-and-back trail accounted for both out and back. Turns out, it's just out. Two things made this hike worth it — the views and the wild huckleberries I ate along the way. Okay, three things. The ski lift I was able to take back down the mountain saved my day from disaster.

There's a bar and restaurant at the summit so, if you're reading this post-covid (if that will ever exist), have a beer for me.

Check it: The elevation for this trail is not easy. No shame in taking the ski lift down, like I did. I can't remember the cost but wasn't too bad. Maybe like 10-15 bucks. Honestly I would've paid a hundred.

Hidden Lake Trail #

5.3 miles | 1,374 ft | Out-and-back

There's a reason why this trail is popular. The views are incredible from start to finish, and there's a good chance you'll see some wildlife. I was lucky enough to spot a Ram on the mountains and a mountain goat grazing just a few feet from me. The trail was closed from the lake overlook on due to bear activity when I was there. But, I didn't feel like I missed out. It was one of my favorite hikes.

Check it: Parking can be a challenge at Logan Pass Visitor Center (where the trailhead is located). I had better luck early evening, around 4-5pm than the mornings.

Wildhorse Island #

This one will take a bit of planning to get there. But don't worry, I'll show you what you need to know.

The aptly named Wildhorse Island sits in Flathead Lake, about 40 miles south of Whitefish, MT. The goal of this hike is to find wildlife. So, be a little flexible with your trail but still be mindful of your surroundings, location, and time.

This day trip was one of the first times I can remember feeling genuinely amazed; like damn, I’m here in the Wild West looking at fucking goats, and, of course, wild horses.

It’s about an hour's drive to get to the lake from Whitefish (1hr 30min from West Glacier). There, you can take a boat, rented or chartered, to the island. I opted to pay $40 for Boat Rentals and Rides to boat me to shore and pick me up 3 hours later (again, be mindful of your time). The boat rental place is right on Flathead Lake. It’s about a 15-minute ride from shore to shore.

Check it: You'll want to make sure you book a few days in advance. The further out, the better as the boats tend to fill up days in advance.

Boat Rentals and Rides ‭+1 (406) 260-5090‬
Google Maps: 44227 A St, Big Arm, MT 59910
Apple Maps: 44227 A St, Big Arm, MT 59910

Here's a full list of the trails mentioned (minus Wildhorse, follow instructions above) with directions, reviews, and other important info: Trails Under 10 Miles Near Glacier National Park #

Do you have any favorite hikes near Glacier National Park? Hit me up anytime. I’m interested in hearing from you.

My email | @jasondotgov

Encinitas, California

2021-05-23T00:00:00Z

Encinitas, California

The air is sweet on Neptune Avenue. Blooming Star Jasmine and gnarled cacti creep through my senses as I start my ascent up the pedestrian-friendly road. A man carrying a surfboard approaches. He leaves a damp trail behind him. I give a faint wave hello, but he keeps forward, too exhausted from a day of surfing to notice me. I don’t take it too personally, though. The vibe here is decidedly carefree, and I’m helplessly infected by it^[1].

As I pass my third Mercedes Sprinter Van, I fantasize about living life off capital gains. The road levels off, and a neat line of ocean interrupts the chaotic row of architecture. I’m at the top of the bluff. I peak down and over the railing and spot a gaggle of surfers lying on their boards. It’s a fascinating lifestyle, but I’m entirely uninterested in participating. There are easier ways to catch a rush that doesn’t involve another knee injury. Perhaps, something with a chile-salted rim.

Slightly winded, I arrive at my destination— a deceivingly modest-looking beach house with a side entrance. I ring the doorbell twice, wondering if I’m heard over the cracking waves. A moment passes, and a large smile and open arms greet me. It’s Lori. She’s spent the past five months working remotely here in Encinitas and is happy to have a new visitor. I am also pleased to be here, among friends. I step into the living room and to my left, three wide open glass doors and a hundred miles of ocean. To my right, a masterful group of digital nomads— two FAANG employees and one business owner. They know how to unearth a visiting city’s gems, and I’m prepared to submit my time to their expertise.

A crisp breeze brushes over my sweaty face. “What do we have to drink?” I ask optimistically. Another moment passes, and a warm wave of local, organic tequila finally crashes through my body. I have arrived in Southern California. Must find tacos.

Surfhouse #

A short walk back down the bluff is the Surfhouse— a boutique motel that caters to visiting surfers and, also, me. Sun-bleached slabs of wood line the 15-room, two-story building with large numbers painted on each door. I’m in room one.

The accommodations are clean and spacious. A small kitchenette and closet fill the wall in front of me. A queen-sized bed sits under a pop of teal and faces a mounted TV that feels slightly too big for the room. A seafoam green barn door reveals the bathroom with a glass partition between the toilet and shower. Beach pebbles and mortar surround the drain. It’s all very cute and charming.

Nectarine Grove / Coffee Coffee #

As you may have guessed, life in Encinitas is Enci-expensive-as-fuck. The Surfhouse is a good option if you’re unwilling or unable to spend a couple grand on an Airbnb. There is no getting around the $7 cold brews at the cafes on either side of the motel, however. Take it all in stride. The paleo pancakes at Nectarine Grove are fluffy and delicious. I don’t even mind the gluten-free label. I just defiantly slather on more syrup. The coffee and pastries at Coffee Coffee really hit the spot on my first jet-lagged morning. Try the danish if you’re into that sort of thing. If you’re not, I no longer trust you and ask that you immediately stop reading this. Both Nectarine Grove and Coffee Coffee are just a few hundred feet from Surfhouse.

Side note: The barista at Coffee Coffee was kind enough to offer me a cold brew as they were closing on my first day in town. She saved my life. I’ll never forget you, person.

Stone Brewing World Bistro & Garden #

After a short hike around Lake Hodges, we head fifteen minutes south to the Stone Brewery in Escondido. The aroma of musty yeast sludges through our nostrils as we approach the building. We’re early to our reservation by an hour, and the host offers up the gift shop as a waiting room. We politely decline. Instead, we use our time responsibly and grab a beer down the road. These are prime drinking hours, after all. We’ll be back.

Upon our return, the high industrial ceilings lead us to open sky and round tables. A lush garden dances seductively, hoping to distract us from the beating our wallets are about to take. I order a light-bodied lager instead of the brewery’s flagship IPA. It’s the type of bullshit move waiters snicker at, equal to ordering your steak well-done at a fancy steak house. For dinner, I go with the Asian spicy noodle dish. It was unremarkable. This, again, is entirely on me. I should’ve ordered the burger. Real pub food. No one has ever said, “be sure to order the Asian dish at that brewery with outdoor garden seating.”

Please don’t make my mistakes. Personal missteps aside, I enjoyed my time at Stone Brewery. Have a couple of tasty beers with a few great friends. Exit through the gift shop.

The Taco Stand #

My toxic trait is I prefer hardshell tacos over soft. I’ll eat a soft taco because that’s what society demands of me, but I’m no fool. Softshell tacos are nothing more than open-face burritos.

In record time, I wash down my second tostada with an ice-cold Coke. The hard shell plate is stacked high with crisp carnitas, fresh onion, cilantro, and a creamy lime sauce. There’s a bit of mango in there somewhere, giving just the right amount of sweetness to its savory surroundings. The Taco Stand feels like a hidden gem but, is in fact, a regional chain with five locations in Southern California. This isn’t Chili’s, though. The food at The Taco Stand holds its own and I’m grateful to have experienced it.

Other Stuff #

Here’s a Google Map List of everything mentioned in this post.

Food #

Corner Pizza: ‘The Killer Bee’ is prepared with pepperoni and drizzled honey. Get drunk first.

Leucadia Liquor: Just down the road from Surfhouse. I bought the tequila I had tried on my first day at this liquor store. The brand is Solento Organic Tequila.

Richard Walker’s Pancake House: A popular breakfast spot located in the Marina District of Downtown San Diego. Order the baked pancakes if you have nothing else to do that day. You won’t be able to walk it off. Source: trust me.

Puesto: A trendy restaurant with good margaritas and ambitious taco creations. Located in Ja Holla near
Windan Sea Beach.

Herb & Sea: Fine dining in Downtown Encinitas. We saved this spot for my last day in town. The cocktails are out of this world. The food is surprising and delicious.

Cali Cream: Tasty ice cream in downtown Encinitas. They are generous with their scoops.

Pannikin Coffee & Tea: Iced latte and a big blueberry scone. I wish I spent more time here.

French Corner: I didn’t get a chance to stop at this cafe, but it does come recommended. If you go, let me know what you think of it.

Birdseye Kitchen: Get the pork belly.

Shopping #

Gaslamp Quarter: We just passed by this commerce area. There seemed to a lot going on, booze-wise.

Vuori: Popular athleisure wear store in Downtown Encinitas. I almost bought a pair of shorts.

Outdoor Activities #

Lake Hodges Overlook Trail: Tried to earn those margaritas with a hike.

Annie’s Canyon Trail: I didn’t get to do this hike, but it looks like a good time. Instagram-able.

Windansea Beach: Why doesn’t anyone have a COVID body in this dumb town? Good beach for the sun.

Grandview Beach: Popular spot for surfing, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Children’s Pool La Jolla: Check out some seals and sea lions. They smell bad but are cute. I have no idea why this beach is named Children’s Pool. It’s a whole-ass ocean.

Self-Care #

Fairmont Grand Del Mar: This is a total splurge of a spa day at a beautiful resort. After our massage, we spent the day by the pool. The staff is so attentive you’ll feel important.

Torry Holistics: I’m not saying you should bring weed gummies back with you on the plane. Just that the California TSA doesn’t seem to care.

Clean Green Patient Services: Another weed spot. This one has delivery for $10 with a $60 minimum.

Revive Spa: B12 shot for happiness.

After a few days of overcast, the sun reappears. It’s my last day in Southern California. We head over to Children’s Pool Beach and check out the seals and sea lions. A few are flopping around on the rocks, but most take the opportunity to soak up the sun. I spot one seal lying remarkably still. I stare at him. “Is he dead?” I ask. A young boy walking by shoots me a look of concern, then continues on. Three minutes pass. No movement. Five, maybe seven minutes later, and still not even a rise of the chest. We’re now concerned, and I’m thinking of who, if anyone, I should call. A vet? The zoo? I am unprepared for this. Just then, a seagull pokes the seal in the belly, and the seal pops up. Whew, I thought. “You scared us, dude!” I give him a wave, but he ignores me and flops back down onto the rock. That will be the last time I wave to anyone without a shirt on.

If you have questions or want to give me a shout, hit me up on my Instagram. I’d love to hear from you. Thank you for spending time with me. Talk with you soon.

This is a test footnote. ↩︎

The Bradfordville Blues Club

2021-05-21T00:00:00Z

The Bradfordville Blues Club

It’s been ten years since I was here last. It was during my intense love affair with Adderall, so I doubt I remember many details. Just vibes. Very, very focused vibes.

I remember how cool I felt at this funky little blues club in the middle of the Tallahassee forest. I drank cheap beer and listened romantically to one of America’s best exports. Oh, I bet I was smug about it too. I was in the know, after all.

The Bradfordville Blues Club is what some might call unassuming. I think it makes a whole bunch of assumptions, though, like people's ability to find the place:

Head north on Bradfordville Road from Tallahassee. When you see a lit tiki torch, turn left. Don't let the thick brush and the general feeling of doom deter you. This is the place. Continue down the dirt road for a half mile until you hear the music. When you approach a drab grey cabin, find a parking spot.

Three mossy oaks surround the central area, which consists of a stout cinderblock structure with an outdoor stage and seating area (bring your own lawn chair). Sprawled strings of light hover above the crowd and convene center stage. The crowd, I think to myself. There's a lot of older white folks here. More than I recall the last time. It's giving Cheeseburger in Paradise. Perhaps I'm just a forty-year-old lost in his own projections. But, I don't feel as cool as I did when I was here last; I feel a little less "in the know." The forest is sparse now, and I can clearly see a new subdivision behind the stage.

Tonight’s featured guest is The Sauce Boss. He and his band are halfway through the first song when I arrive. Two large aluminum pots sit curiously on either side of the stage. One pot has a guitar poking out. The other is emitting smoke. Are they cooking on stage? I'm hungry.

To the far left, a small shack embraces the light from a bonfire. If I remember correctly, and I think I do, there’s fried catfish inside that shack. I take a quick inventory of my feelings and decide a drink is in order first.

I make a beeline to the club. There's a bar inside.

Tables and chairs are stacked near an empty stage— a reminder that this place struggles to keep the lights on during the pandemic. Portraits of important blues musicians cover the walls (I assume they're noteworthy. I'm a little rusty on my Blues history). At the bar, a handwritten sign reads “Bacon salt for the afflicted.” This is presumably an inside joke that I decide I'm a part of forever. After what feels like an eternity of waiting in line, I order a Yuengling and ask the bartender to keep the tab open. I then head back out towards that shack.

I join a second line for catfish. I immediately recognize the chef. She’s an older lady with short white hair and a round face. Maybe my memory’s not so bad after all. I don’t remember who I came with the last time, but I remember her. Ced, an old friend I reunite with later in the evening, astutely points out why I remember her. She fed me. And she’s about to do it again. Bless.

The fried fish sits on a bed of sliced bread, store-bought and doughy from the steam. The meal comes with a generous helping of thick-cut fries, too, prepared straight out of a Great Value bag and into a frier. None of this matters. The catfish is the star of the show. I plop down on a nearby picnic table and dig in. A man tosses a pallet into the bonfire, and I watch the flames dance with renewed vigor as I eat.

Man, there are a lot of white people here, I think to myself. Is that a bad thing? I’m unsure. I know little about the blues genre, except it is a Black art form born from an unsavory past. No one here, except for the men on the walls, the woman who served me catfish, and my friend Ced is Black. How much should I worry about this? I’m vibing right now. The music is great, the beer is cold, and I’m sure something's cooking in the big pot on stage.

The Bradfordville Blues Club feels more like a public service than a for-profit business. The establishment is now a landmark. An iron plaque inscribed with a historical blurb stands outside the club. No one here is getting rich, except maybe The Sauce Boss, who took the opportunity to hack some of his white-label hot sauce during intermission (I bought one). Tonight is a benefit concert to help keep the lights on and, in turn, maybe even help keep the blues alive. That’s a good thing, right? Even if what I fear I am watching is the Margaritaville-ification of Black art, it’s better than forgetting entirely...right? I turn to my friend Ced for answers since he apparently represents all Black people within a 20-mile radius. He shrugs. “I don’t know either,” he answers.

The show ends, and The Sauce Boss invites everyone up for a bowl of gumbo. I knew it. The Sauce Boss can shred a guitar and cook a mean pot of stew. Okay, so maybe sitting on a lawn chair with a belly full of food and Yuengling isn’t what Muddy Waters had in mind when he sang Standing Around Crying. Maybe The Sauce Boss is closer related to Jimmy Buffet than Jimi Hendrix. And perhaps the last time I was here, I was a little less sensitive to cultural appropriation. But this was fun, and I hope the Brandfordville Blues Club lives on as one of the historic stops on the Chitlin’ Circuit. The blues is worth preserving, even by imperfect protectors... right?

Update: I wrote this piece in 2020. Since then, it appears The Bradfordville Blues Club has permanently closed its doors and only offers streamed shows from its Facebook page. This is sad news. I'm glad I got to visit one last time.