July 24, 2026

I look like I walk a lot

I went to see some live music. I never do that. But since I have more time and need to be around people, I tried. The bag search was unexpected for a free public event. I had to explain why I carry a pocket knife and a can opener next to a $5,000 laptop. The guy searching my bag looked just as confused as me, but he let me in.

A surfer-looking dude came over to talk to me. He asked if I was a through-hiker or some kind of traveller, pointing at my legs, big fancy backpack, and scruff. I listened to him for a while as he talked about his life and what led him here.

At some point he'd talked so much that he had me cornered. I told him I was actually very familiar with the area. That the big backpack and the scruff were more signs of misadventure than adventure. He looked performatively bummed for a second. Then he kept talking about his life.

He never found the right girl apparently, and manages Airbnbs. His name and physique matched too perfectly: Scott. Fifty-seven years old. Outdoorsy tan. Groomed but not posh. Long white hair. Malas and a GPS smartwatch on his wrist. Perfectly white teeth. Subaru keys dangling from his belt. From Lafayette, fellow old time BART rider.

After twenty years of thoroughly enjoying the coast, he wants to explore the backcountry before he gets too old. He ended our conversation on an unexpected note: Freedom can feel lonely, yet in nature that very weight often feels like connection.

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P.S: I have been walking a lot lately, both physically and through life.