It was a Cirrus day over head with bright blue skies when I marched past the reviewing stand for the last time in April 1985. I had traveled the world but I was not finished. Off I went with a pension in my pocket, a rucsack and a camera at the age of thirty-seven. All that I had experienced under that Nimbus cloud years before seemed ancient history to me then and I was determined to keep it that way. I traveled and traveled and traveled until three years later when I found myself living my second childhood dream in Montana. "Big Sky Country" is what Montana is called and if you have never been there, you'll never know the meaning behind it. It was the only place I never wanted to see any clouds. The sky was so big and felt so close that I thought I could reach out and touch it. Watching the moon rise over Stillwater Valley and counting the stars was a favorate pastime.
Four years later and with itchy feet I left the cowboy life behind. It was and always will be the most exhilarating time of my life.
