I had to be there

Well, I'm back, and it sure was tough making the decision to return.

I was never really gone, more like in another reality. Yes, that describes the all consuming nature of the place where I was living these past four months. Wyoming, such an interesting word, and really, that is just the beginning. A state that many coast dwellers often overlook, including myself, either out of proximity or in relation to "mainstream" states, such as Colorado or Texas, or for its relatively small population: 500,000 people more or less, still less than San Francisco's 750,000 sardined within forty nine square miles.

None of that mattered, nor did the fact that I didn't know a soul. The experience was born out of a search for natural beauty and freedom. I had only seen Wyoming through photographs, and despite diverse and inspiring landscapes throughout the state, I was immediately drawn to the Bighorn Mountains. One photograph in particular caught my eye and pulled at every part of me; an overwhelmingly green mesa; the Bighorns rising toward the big blue sky; a lone woman on horseback. I had to be there.