Imagine you're a 44 year old male.  You've spent the last 15 years consistently working 40-45 hours a week for your company.  You have a nice, large 401k that you've been diligently adding to each paycheck, with help from your employer's six percent match.  You've even convinced your loving wife to be just as disciplined with hers.  In as few as ten, perhaps nine, years, you calculate that you'll finally hit that magic number and retire.

But things have changed of late. You haven't taken a vacation in two years, instead cashing the days out to add to your retirement account.  You used to enjoy the job, but the routine is getting old and you find yourself increasingly ornery and ill-tempered.  Just a few more years, you think, and you will finally be able to break free.

Then, BAM! You're hit by a bus.

I'm not suggesting cashing out your 401k and buying an Audi R8.  First of all, a good chunk would be taken out by Uncle Sam in penalties, not to mention the even bigger chunk in taxes (assuming it's not a Roth).  It's important to be disciplined with your finances, and a 401k helps with that.

As usual, this post was inspired by an article.  I'd heard of Timothy Ferriss' book The Four-Hour Workweek before, but only in the context of Virtual Assistance, which seemed a dubious concept at the least.  However, this time it struck a very personal chord.  A few years ago, with my roommates shortly before moving to Utah from Rochester, NY, I had proposed a similar idea:

"I think I'm just going to work for a year at a time, save some money, then quit and travel for a few months.  When I get bored, I'll come back and get another job, and repeat."

Hmm.  I didn't really take myself seriously, as I was more concerned at the time with finding a job to pay rent next month.  But this "mini-retirement" idea is very, very powerful, and could help answer some very deep questions about the nature of work, society, and their roles in personal happiness.  Why squander the best years of your life at a job you're not passionate about?  Why put off all your hopes, dreams, and desires for thirty years until you're too old to take advantage of them?  (Ironically, my parents are excellent examples of having happy, fulfilling lifestyles funded through traditional retirement savings.)

Which brings me to my point.  Saving for the future (or anything, really) is never a bad thing, unless it negatively impacts your happiness now.  Live (and love) your life while you can.  If you feel stuck, change something. There are always alternatives to the lifestyle you're living; you just have to be brave enough to step outside of the societal norms. 

Continued from part one

Tuesday: Royal Arches

After the long day Monday, we decide to stay in the valley. Royal Arches is on the list of climbs and is selected. It has a ten-minute approach, fifteen pitches of climbing, and an excellent position looking over the valley. While waiting in the parking lot for Matt, we witness a tourist almost back over his duffel bag with his enormous SUV, roll forward again, turn a bit, then proceed to drive fully over the bag. Unpleasant crunching sounds emanate and we wince from the other end of parking lot. Rough start to the day.

We have our own rough start as it takes us over a half hour to find the climb. (My bad!) Soon enough, though, we are squeezing up the first pitch's 5.6 chimney. The route mostly consists of 30-70 foot sections of crack climbing followed by some 3rd/4th class scrambling. We spend several hours working our way up the wall, gaining height and an amazing view of the valley. By 7pm or so we're out of water and at the top. Twelve rappels, one pulled rope with the knot still in it, and an impressive jimmy-rigged stick contraption get us back to the ground around 9:30. We're all pretty wiped as we stumble back to Camp Four well after dark. (This would be a common theme...)

Wednesday: Go USA!

Both Matt J and I are huge soccer fans, so we agreed that we couldn't miss the US-Algeria World Cup game. It is well worth seeing, as the US scores in dramatic fashion in the 92nd minute for the win and advancement out of the group stage. We spend the rest of the day sight-seeing and swimming in the Merced below the gaze of El Cap. It is an excellent rest day.

Thursday: Back to Tuolomne

We have a vague plan to go "dome-hopping" back in Tuolomne, and by 11am or so we're at the base of Stately Pleasure Dome, racking up right off the road. We split into two parties again; Glenn and I choose the highly-rated South Crack while the Matts do West Country, a 5.7 on the main face.

The first two pitches contain some of the best crack climbing I have ever done, clean fingerlocks on impeccable rock. I place almost solely nuts on this section as it is perfectly suited for them. On the third pitch the route leaves the crack, sadly, to venture directly up with rather run-out 5.7 slab climbing. I lead each pitch, and enjoy every one (except maybe the last one, which is 5.2 or something). We meet the other lads at the top, take some pictures, and scramble back down to the car. Tenaya Lake reflects the sky and I take in my surroundings contentedly.

Next up is Lembert Dome, a couple miles' drive away. This is another Dome practically right off the road, and we decide to do a two-pitch 5.6 called Northwest Books. The first pitch contains some interesting friction climbing, leading to a traverse below a roof and then a thought-provoking corner system. Unknowingly, I take the 5.9 variation (which is, realistically, the natural line) up the corner which is quite enjoyable. Glenn takes the next pitch of easy 5th class to the ridge. We scramble up to the summit and relish another phenomenal view of Tuolomne.

Friday: Half Dome

None of us were quite ready to spend a few days climbing El Cap, so we opt for the just-as-famous Half Dome. There is a 5.7 that sneaks up its South shoulder called Snake Dike. Half Dome is a difficult mountain to get to, and the approach involves a six mile hike, most of it on well-maintained hiking trails. Most of the time I don't enjoy long approaches, but this is a very notable exception as we pass by two immense waterfalls. We take the aptly-named "Mist Trail," and I scoff at the other hikers donning ponchos. After all, there's hardly a cloud in the sky, right?

Well, forty minutes later I'm at the top of Vernal Falls and drenched to the bone. The trail winds within a few hundred feet of the water, turning the surroundings into a permanent tropical rainforest. We snap some pics (one of an amusing sign) and continue on so we can warm up a bit. The trail continues up to the base of Liberty Cap (one of dozens of massive shields of Granite in the area), where we then leave it to get onto a climber's trail which traverses below and around the Cap. Some bushwhacking and a heinous, loose scramble up slabs brings us to the base of the climb.

Snake Dike is renowned for being both really long and really run out. By this time, we had ample experience with both types of climbing, so the route itself is pretty much a cruise. Even 5.4 can be thought-provoking, however, when you're 50 feet above your last bolt, but we try not to let it get to us and continue on and on over the 7-8 pitches. A final scramble leads us to the top, and the best panorama of the entire week (which is saying something!) It is a fitting final climb. The nine miles of hiking back to the Valley aren't too brutal, and we again roll back into Camp Four after dusk.

Saturday: Bouldering

Matt and I rescheduled things so we could catch the next US game on Saturday, which turned out to be a bit of a bummer. Ghana beat us handily to eliminate us from the World Cup. The silver lining was that I was still in Yosemite! The rest of the lads were still beat from the day before, but I managed to sneak out for an hour to do some bouldering with our two very friendly British campmates. The sheer quantity and quality of boulder problems just above Camp Four was, again, staggering, and we only did a few before sputtering out. It had been a long week, and we were all hurting a bit. By 8pm the four of us were back in the car and headed back to Utah.

My photos

Matt J's Photo Trip Report (excellent photos!)

I started climbing back in May 2007. I was 22, and had just moved to Utah to start a new, brighter, more outdoor-oriented life. I haven't stopped since; in fact, the longest I went without climbing was the month in Nepal. I've probably consistently climbed 2-3 times a week for the past three years.

Thus, it was only a matter of time before I made The Pilgrimage. Yosemite Valley is the spiritual home of American climbing, where the first Stonemasters fashioned their own gear and made their way up the massive granite cliffs by whatever means necessary. I had heard and read so much about the Valley and surrounding climbing that a visit was inevitable.

Four of us packed into a Honda Element (a sweet ride!) to drive over the night of June 19. We diagonally bisected the utterly barren state of Nevada and were in California by dawn. Yosemite is split into two parts: the Valley, far and away the most touristy, populated, and spectacular area, and Tuolumne Meadows, a large expanse of alpine wilderness consisting of granite domes, peaks, lakes and streams. Both areas are beautiful in their own way, and we spent some time in each.

Sunday

We drive on the Yosemite highway through the valley in awe. Massive granite cliffs are everywhere. A large river to our left reflects the massive Sequoias and Douglas Firs towering towards the sky. We are all rather groggy but excited, and split up to look at wilderness permits and get a campsite at historic Camp 4. After an hour of waiting we get a site for the four of us. Glenn and I are psyched to climb so we gear up while the other two catch up on sleep. We walk over to some cliffs near the campsite and tackle a nice 5.7 in the shade, then toprope an adjacent 5.9 and .10a. Right around then I realized I wouldn't be doing many challenging routes that week, not because of the difficulty of the climbing but rather my partners' inexperience on granite. Oh well.

We take a nap, then all regroup to go for a drive and take pictures. As the sun is setting, we reach Glacier Point, on the other side of the valley. We take in a stunning view of Half Dome, the Toulumne alpine, and Yosemite Valley, then make our way back to camp.

Monday

I must say, I was quite pleased with my partners' willingnesss to get after it. We get up decently early, pack in the car, and make the hour plus drive up to Tuolomne. The objective is Cathedral Peak, a spiny mountain jutting out of the high alpine at 10,900 feet. There are several technical routes to the top, and we choose a 6-pitch 5.6 for the ascent. The approach is difficult -- due to a series of late spring storms, the snow is still deep and all the suncups make for frustrating hiking. It takes us a couple hours to get to the base, where we promptly run into a party of four retreating from the route.

Huh? I think, then turn around and look at the sky. Storm clouds are brewing to the east. They don't look too threatening, so we sack up, rack up and start climbing. The rock is impeccable, with fun cracks and low-angle friction climbing. We cruise up the first few pitches, including a fun, exposed, step-around 5.7 move four pitches up. The "crux" 5.7 crack is above, and proves fun and a bit spicy. (It's funny how different partners can totally change your psych level. Sometimes I'm gung-ho about leading .10c trad yet at times scared of 5.7...)

There is discussion of retreat, and as the storm clouds billow higher and higher we realize we're covered in metal trinkets attached to a granite lightning rod. Yet the storm still hasn't moved any closer and we proceed. The last pitch is a relief, leading to an incredible view of Tuolumne from a pool-table sized summit. We don't dally and expedite the rappels in hopes of descending before the weather starts getting hairy.

It never does. We get a sprinkle of hail on the hike out, but are delighted at the day's accomplishment. I suggest a route with a shorter approach for the next day...

Continued...

Over the last few weeks, I've met and caught up with a lot of people. Invariably, the topic of my quitting my job comes up, and it's been interesting comparing people's reactions. They fall into a few categories:

• Fear/uncertainty. By far the most common response. I've heard things like "Oooh. Risky." Or "You better have clients lined up before you quit." (Yes.) As if not working for a couple weeks is a cardinal sin. These responses are always disappointing as they don't drum up a lot of confidence. I think it might be a natural, almost motherly response though for certain personality types.
• Indifference/confusion. This is the most surprising reaction. I can't even think of any quotes as they seemed so foreign to me. I guess some people don't understand that you don't have to work for somebody else. A few people didn't really understand what I was trying to do, and just gave me the ol' furrowed eyebrow.
• Enthusiasm. Naturally, my favorite reaction. At times the power of these responses have kept me from changing my mind. Things like "Yeah, sometimes you just have to set yourself up in a position where you have to succeed." Hell yeah. Or, "you get to do whatever you want and dont have to deal with crap." Haha, well, that'd be great, but probably not. :) I can only think of a handful of people who have been genuinely supportive and enthusiastic of my decision, and, to those awesome few, thank you! (Curt, Katherine, Mom and Dad, et al)
• Disappointment. I must have heard "Are you sure you still want to do this?" from my boss six or seven times, or every time the subject came up. This was the reaction from my boss and a few coworkers, but I guess that's understandable. Workplaces have strange social dynamics, though, especially in fields where there's typically high turnover (software companies for sure). I've felt the same thing before (usually tempered with excitement for them, though) when great colleagues move on.

I'm definitely not the only one, though, and that's exciting. Ten more days of work, and it's on.

As I was making my weekly rounds of the software blogging universe, I came across this fascinating post by John Cook. Besides having a delightfully alliterative title, it struck a chord with me due to my similar experiences.

I've been a student of programmer productivity for over three years now, especially as it relates to hiring, pay, and experience. The last two paragraphs of Mr. Cook's post made me smile, as I can relate. The best (most productive in this sense) programmers aren't necessarily the smartest or most technically skilled; they just have a special talent for recognizing and applying the best solution to a given problem. They recognize common problems and that existing, stable code exists to solve them. At a higher level, they realize when they're building the wrong thing or applying a hack rather than a long-term solution, and call it out to the appropriate people. In fact, these skills aren't endemic to the current definition of a "programmer" at all, but are often best applied at the managerial or director level. Often, developers (or even managers) don't have the clout to interrupt an ill-designed project or feature, even when it's clearly off-track.

I'm very excited to start putting on some more hats in my new business endeavor besides the old, crusty programmer one. Call me biased, but I've always considered developers the single most important link in the production of software. They are what connect the business idea to its implementation, and thus can have the biggest impact on not just performance and accuracy, but requirement satisfaction and usability. The best developer can not only implement a fast, clean, and elegant software solution, but prevent a poor user interface or inappropriate system from ever being realized. Those latter cases represent the lion's share of wasted time and money in a software project as constant redesigns and reworks are required.

It would be interesting to extrapolate this concept to the productivity divide between large and small software companies or the necessity of software CEOs to have an excellent technical background. Perhaps in a future post.

At the end of June, I will no longer be employed.

This is my choice. From my employer's perspective, I'm quitting; from mine, I'm just beginning. Over the past few years I've been putting together the pieces and gaining the requisite experience to make this decision. Not to mention enduring a growing dissatisfaction with my current job.

So what's next? Well, it took a while to answer this question, but eventually all the signs pointed to the same place.

My next employer should be...me!

Yup, I'll be striking out on my own, building websites from the ground up, using whatever technologies fit. Ruby and Rails, of course, are the preferred means of expression, but I can do PHP and all the client-side stuff, too. One project is nearing completion and another is in the works, and I must say, it's really exciting. The opportunity to trade the nine-to-five for my own schedule is a huge draw, not to mention the freedom to use the beloved technologies of my own choice! Woohoo! Hopefully this will lead to a happier Alec, which will naturally yield a more satisfied, productive, and better Alec.

At least, that's the vision. I'm willing to accept the risks; in fact, I feel obligated to try. But I can't do it alone. I'll need clients. Development work. Small businesses in need of a web presence. Entrepreneurs with the vision but not the programming chops. Perhaps there's something I can offer for you?

I bought an iPhone a few months ago. It was a difficult decision, weighing the sheer beauty of the device versus its commandeering popularity. Having always resisted spending too much time on it, I never bothered searching out and finding interesting and useful applications. I did end up installing one game though, Scrabble, and have become quite attached to it. The other day I initiated a routine App update, let the updates install, and launched Scrabble.

Same splash screen as always, then, wait....nothing?

Just a black screen. I waited for a couple seconds and clicked the home button. Tried again. Same thing.

I must say that my experience on the device has been pretty great thus far. Beyond some annoying service interruptions here and there, everything of significance has worked quite well. Undoubtedly other, more enthusiastic users haven't had the same experience, but this was a first for me.

Immediately I thought, crap, why do I bother downloading these updates? Everything works great, what's the point? What's in it for me?

Well, not a lot, really. I suppose it depends on the user, but if I download an app and it does exactly what I expect it to, I don't think about changing it. Updates are just pushed down from the developers to provide new features, bug fixes, or, (unfortunately) advertising.

Not to say that perfection should be expected from version 1.0. This would be near impossible in any app with enough complexity. Bugs occur and need to be fixed. But what happens when users download these routine updates which render their applications unusable? Naturally, they stop trusting them, and with enough annoyance, stop bothering completely.

This is unfortunate for both users and other developers, rendering a useful feature less so. Yet software is increasingly deployed more or less automatically, rarely requiring more than a simple user click. The day of the shrink-wrapped software is past.

Don't pollute the ecosystem! Think about, really, how vital is this new software update? How well has it been tested on each platform? How will it affect the user experience? And damnit, Scrabble, what am I going to do on the bus now?

If you've been here before, you've surely noticed that things look a bit different. Well, it's been a long time coming, but I'm finally changing the blog's theme to make it a) look better and b) more readable and usable. The old theme was a bit stale and I had gotten a few complaints, so here ya go.  There have been numerous changes behind the scenes, too:

I upgraded from Typo 4.0.1 to 5.4.3. This is a major update.  The entire back-end has changed (drastically for the better!), and things work as never before.  Funny how you can get used to and just accept a crap version of something.  Perhaps this will entice me to post a bit more, since the UI has gotten quite slick.

Now for the nitty-gritty details of upgrading.  Don't bother continuing unless you're interested in upgrading Typo on a shared hosting service (in my case, Dreamhost).  I ran into a few roadblocks along the way, piecing the steps together from numerous sources:

1. First, I went to the typo upgrade site to get things going.  These directions aren't very good, so I'll elaborate.
2. I have gems installed on my account (~/.gems), since mine is a shared account and I like to have control over the software being run there.  I simply ran
   

   gem update -i ~/.gems typo

   to update the gems in my account.  Pretty simple.

3. The next step was to actually install the updated Typo gem into my existing installation:

   ~/.gems/bin/typo install ~/blog_home

   which is where the troubles began.  Turns out that the 'install' gem tries to back up your entire weblog database into a .yml file.  Well, if you have a decent-sized blog, this is going to take a lot of time, and consume a whole lot of CPU and memory resources.  Dreamhost kept killing the backup process for that very reason (as this guy experienced, too) which was frustrating.  I contacted someone via online chat (which has been quite helpful recently) and got some tech guy on the other end who temporarily turned off the kill process for my account.  Well, the backup still took forever, with dire warnings from him periodically (99% CPU.  800MB RAM.  How long is this going to take?  Uhh...just a couple minutes..)

4. If the previous command causes these types of problems, I'd suggest backing up your blog database manually via mysqldump, phpmysql, or some other utility.  Then disable the auto-backup by hacking the rails install gem ($GEM_HOME/gems/rails-app-installer-0.2.0/lib/rails-installer.rb) and commenting out the 'backup_database' step in the install_sequence function:

   #backup_database

5. Now re-run the command in step 3.  This got much further for me, but failed again during the schema migration when Dreamhost killed the process again.  The simple workaround here was to run the migration manually from the rails home directory via rake:

   rake RAILS_ENV=production db:migrate

6. And finally, re-run step 3.  This completed successfully for me; however, navigating to my blog again was less than successful, giving the dreaded 500 Rails Application Error.  Now, Passenger to the rescue:

7. Create the file $RAILS_HOME/tmp/restart.txt.  Passenger watches this file and restarts when it is touched.  This is quite handy for debugging.  Now go into config/environment.rb and add these lines beneath the #bootstrap require line:

   if ENV['RAILS_ENV'] == 'production'  # don't bother on dev
     ENV['GEM_PATH'] = '/home/USERNAME/.gems' + ':/usr/lib/ruby/gems/1.8'
     Gem.clear_paths
   end
   

8. This tells Passenger to use the gems in your local account first. Now touch the restart.txt file and you should be good to go!

Time for a rare forward-looking blog post.

EDIT: This post isn't quite accurate anymore, as I've had to bail on this trip to be in a good friend's wedding in NY. The river trip's still on; this one, not so much. I'll be back.
</EDIT>

I try to keep myself busy, and it's been a good winter. At least for my ice tools and crampons, not so much for the skis. It's pretty clear where my priorities lie these days, and between work/climbing/girlfriend I've been staying pretty busy.

A couple years ago I was hoping to get in the groove of an international trip a year. This was right when I got back from Nepal -- bitten hard by the travel bug. I haven't been out of the country since.

That's about to change. Well, actually, technically it's not, but I don't consider where I'm going to be part of this country anyway.

That should narrow it down for you. If not, think cold, think mountains, think glaciers, think BIG. I'm Alaska-bound. May 14 I'll be flying into Anchorage en route to the Ruth Gorge, Denali National Park. I'll be camping less then ten miles from the tallest mountain on the continent.

Oh, you're going to climb Denali! How exciting! No. My aspirations have graduated from merely standing atop peaks to standing atop peaks via the most fun way possible. The Cassin Ridge isn't quite attainable at this point in time, so the Ruth will have to do. Since we will only have a week or so on the glacier we're looking at a few "smaller" routes, like Ham n Eggs or Peak 11,300. Because of the fickle weather up there, though, itineraries are useless, so all you can do is come up with the most inspiring line up the most inspiring peak possible and hope for the best. That's what we'll be doing. If we don't spend the week storm-bound in a tent.

Oh, and I'm going on a river trip the week before that. Five days down Cataract Canyon in magnificent Canyonlands National Park. Woohoo!

Most of these posts incubate in my brain for days, weeks or even years before finally seeing light.

I just got done watching American Beauty for the umpteenth time. Perhaps, as the theme of this post weaved its way through my mind like mycelium, the film became the final piece of inspiration to bring it to fruition. Or maybe it was the recent conversation with my wonderful girlfriend, and my appreciation of her unyielding gratitude. She gets it.

You are lucky. If you have family and friends that love you. If you have always had the resources to support yourself. If opportunities fall from the sky into your lap.

I am lucky. I have all these things. Throughout my life, I have been supported by those I love and motivated in ways they'll never understand. Brandon. Dennis. Evan. Only three of so many.

Thank you.