Sometimes, you gotta go home. Like at Thanksgiving. And while this trip was definitely brought on by the Thanksgiving Holiday, I also needed to go. Why? I’m not sure. But I knew it was time to go as the mountains were calling me home.
Where I live now, I’m surrounded by mountains. Literally, they are all around me. I can’t escape from them even if I wanted to.
Mountains, mountains, mountains.
But there’s something different about the east side of this incredible mountain range. It’s rugged. Wild. Wind-blown. Brown. Vast. Endless.
It’s a place where I feel so incredibly connected to my surroundings. It’s where cowboys are tough old guys, ladies are tough old girls, babies grow up running around outside and start learning about work at a very young age. It’s a place where everybody knows your name, what car you drive, your age, your grandparents, etc.
And it’s a place that I love.
Behind these clouds are some of the loveliest mountains in the world. (Yep, I said world).
Haystack Butte in the afternoon light.
This is the view from my parent’s house. Lucky little ducks.
After a few days spent at home, it was time to pack up and head back over to my current side of the mountains. And Mother Nature must have known my heart was a little heavy to be leaving, so she left me with these images on the journey west.
Clear roads over Rogers Pass.
Saying bye for now to the east side.
Driving into Montana’s iconic Blackfoot Valley.
After all, when the mountains are calling, you must go.
“The mountains are calling and I must go.” John Muir