Bighorn Mountains

Sitting with my wife, Judy, in our 1896 cabin in the Bighorn Mountains during a snowstorm, with a fire burning, discovering an author I’ve never read before.

I moved first to Wyoming, a small town called Story, near Sheridan, where I kept staring at the beauty of the Bighorn Mountains, accessed by a trail out of Story, and at last succumbed to the idea of two horses, one for riding and one for packing.

And the four of us—horses, dog, and I—spent a wonderful summer exploring the wilderness areas of the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming.

And so to the Bighorn Mountains.

“I need two horses. One to ride, one to carry a pack. I want to go up into the Bighorn Mountains....”