Check out Phase 2, my podcast about quitting my job to find more fulfillment in my work life. You can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Below is episode 2. If you haven’t heard episode 1 you may want to check that out first.
They silently emerge from the pine forests without warning. First we see two or three of them in the distance and suddenly an entire heard of them are upon us – at least a hundred Bison. Babies are fed by their mommas. Big bulls eye each other wearily. Most are in pursuit of the lush grass surrounding the highway. All the vehicles along the road – probably about 50 – are stopped in both directions. First we stopped to look at them, and now we’re completely surrounded by them; both lanes of the highway are blocked. A 2000 pound male brushes up against our minivan and my initial confidence in our safety erodes slightly. So far they’ve ignore us completely; or maybe they’re just unimpressed with us. My wife inches us forward as the beasts give her space, but its slow going. I vaguely hear my 8 year old spouting facts about Bison population in the US in the 1800s. I’m more interested in soaking in this rare experience to commune with the natural world. He snaps me back to the real world when he says “Daddy, I need to go pee”.
I’m Samir Lakhani and this is Phase 2,, a podcast about quitting my job in corporate America to find more fulfilling work. At the end of the last episode, I had quit my corporate job in the middle of the pandemic and embarked on a cross-country road trip with my wife and two young kids starting in Minnesota and head to our home in Seattle. That scene with the Bison was from Custer State Park in South Dakota, which was about 3 days into our trip. It was one of many surreal experiences in our month of travel that are still vivid memories.
This trip was the physical manifestation of what I needed in my life – to break away from the shackles of the life I had created for myself: one of mortgage payments, responsibilities, in the rat race punching the clock 8 to 6pm every day. I felt half present with my kids in the evenings and weekends because my mind was busily planning and obsessing for upcoming quarterly reviews . This trip was the open road, full of possibilities with no responsibilities except to ourselves.
We didn’t have a particular timeline for the trip. We had a rough plan to visit parks in South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho and Oregon with some possible camping along the way. While my wife Amy had been to some sites in there as a child, it was mostly new to me and our kids.
Bikers in the Black Hills
Our first destination was Badlands National Park, which is a desert climate full of otherworldly rock formations, dinosaur bone discoveries and the famous Wall Drug. We encountered our first group of bikers here, who would be our constant companions for the rest of our time in South Dakota. We saw thousands of them on the highway and the rest stops along the way. They were there for the Sturgis Motorcycle rally, an annual event held in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Typically the event attracts 500 thousand people and at least half that many were expect this year despite Covid.
Most of the bikers fit a particular mould: late 50s, rough looking, tattoos, leather jackets, american flag patches, few helmets. Trump stickers. Not a covid mask to be found. No social distancing. I remember standing in line at a camp grocery story in a line of 15 leather clad bikers without masks all holding cases of beer and liquor. And then there was me, the skinny brown kid in a golf shirt wearing a covid mask trying to buy two kombuchas. I did not fit in.
At our hotel in the Black Hills, I overheard a conversation between a group of bikers on the porch. This was an older group – maybe early 60s. They were talking about and exchanging photos of their kids, talking about their jobs, their trips to different rallies in past years. Their frustration with politics. Reminicing the good old days. The stresses of their lives. Many of them had come from long distances – North Carolina, Tenessee, Mississipi.
The trip to Sturgis was a temporary escape from their lives, doing what they love. In many ways they were on a similar journey to me. Seeking the freedom and possibility of the open road was important enough to them to risk their health in a pandemic.
Needles Highway
That was us squeaking through the Needles tunnel in the Black Hills. It’s a tunnel blasted in the rock which is 8 feet wide and 12 feet high allowing one way traffic only. The path on both sides has perrilous hundred foot drop-offs and is mostly winding switchbacks hugging the rockface. There are spectacular rock formations and valley vistas along the route. My wife Amy was navigated us through that section flawlessly but it was pretty stressful. We all gave her support along the way which I think helped, but ultimately, her success was up to her. Is that what I’m trying to do in my life now? Thread the needle from my old world to a new world – with perilous hazards along the way. People can support me, but ultimately, it’ll be up to me to make things happen.
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Grand Tetons
The Teton mountain range springs up almost out of nowhere as you approach Grand Teton National park. There are no foothills – just a vast plain and then three 13000 foot peaks jutting out the valley floor. The scenery is a welcome respite after miles of flat deserty landscape. We stayed at a cabins on the north edge of the park. Despite covid, the campground seemed mostly occupied, although people were social distancing and masked up – park ranger enforced.
I woke in the Tetons to sub 50 degree temperatures, the coldest we’d experienced in months. I pulled on a sweater and step outside to sit on our porch. The sun rise peaked out from behind the mountains in a spectacular display of reds and yellows. Light flickers through the towering pines needles onto the porch floor as a light breeze passes. I sip from a steaming cup of coffee with my journal open. What can I do to bring this moment of morning peace back to my life in Seattle in some small way? Instead of writing, I start sketching the scene in front of me in an effort to capture the moment. Or maybe as a way to explore my feelings in a new way.
A piece of advice I got from my coach Ravi for this period was to try things I hadn’t done before and listen for what brings me a feeling of aliveness. Back in Minnesota, my father in law took us fishing and we probably caught 20 fish over several weeks. He took me trap shooting at the local range – I hadn’t shot a shotgun before. Its harder than it looks and it was a ton of fun. My brother in law took us single track mountain biking at Cayuna state park. This was incredibly fun and definitely brough aliveness – probably because you’re always feeling like you’re about to no longer be alive. You need to focus 100% of mental faculties on the path with no time to contemplate the meaning of it all – unless you want a broken collerbone. My 8 year old and I emerged unscathed and liked it so much that we rented and road at multiple points during our trip. Thank you Matt and William for being great teachers.
One morning in the Tetons, I tried something else new: to write some poetry on my morning walk. Hopefully the majesty of nature would permeate my soul and express itself through me. Wow, saying that aloud makes me sound like a complete douche bag. Well here’s what I came up with:
Only I know
What it looks from my eyes
What it tastes like in my mouth
What it feels like in my heart
Only I know who I am
Do I even know?
I did not write any more poetry after that.
We did several hikes in the Tetons and our 6 year old Leena showed amazing toughness completing a hike after scraping her knee. We came uncomfortably to a Black bear on a hike along Jenny lake. The rangers alerted us to the bear as we were passing and they attempted to move the bear away from humans by quote “poking it with a stick”. This is apparently state of the art in bear management.
One afternoon we swam in the frigid but pristine waters of Jackson Lake with the backdrop of a spectacular sunset over the mountains. Amy and I had a tender moment floating in an embrace while the kids made castles on the beach. At that moment, holding her and watching these vibrant and playful beings we had created together I had everything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Having this focused time with them has been a true blessing. Connection time with my family has to be part of whatever work pursuit I tackle next. That I know for sure.
Join me next episode where we’ll continue our journey across the American west where we’ll analyze the meaning of street art in Boise, take a stressful canoe trip near Crater Lake and explore Dune City, Oregon as we head back to Seattle.
Samir Lakhani 