Dryhead Ranch in Montana

So here I am at the Dryhead Ranch with some great people and on the back of a horse we ride the range for an entire day. Normally we end up at the mess hall for chow but this particular night the owners' daughter decides we'll do a night ride, cook by the fire and just enjoy each others company as we chow down in the cool night air. To the north we can see the Billings skyline and Bleu chases whatever moves. The fire is crackling as we sip coffee watching shooting stars and trying not to feel small under this big sky country. There's Jackie and Harmony from France, a couple from the Netherlands, a guy whose just had back surgery from Denver, my son, a father and daughter from out east who have trucked her horse for her ride, two young guys from Switzerland and a several others all coming to America to ride the wild west. This group is different than the one last year, but each has it's benefits of colorful personalities.

Still today I remember this night especially well because it was the first time we'd been able to ride at night and sit around a campfire. I'd missed two years of opportunity to drive the cattle and so I slept in a cabin each night. But this was special in a way I'd long forgotten about. Boy Scout camp or sitting around the fire by the skating pond in Westboro, Massachusetts had long ago past into history. The pond was tucked in between the horseshoe of Gary Circle with it's apple trees and the railroad tracks that carried new cars from points unknown. Watching steam come off ice coated pants after playing hockey was a distant memory. Tonight in Montana we got to lie down on cool grass in front of a warm fire with boots, stirrups and a wide brimmed cowboy hat that kept the heavy damp air at bay.

By nights end we'd seen enough shooting stars to sleep. As we drove away from the DryHead our thoughts couldn't help but drift back to all we'd seen on the 45,000 acres that for one week had been home.

Adventure Travel

KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID

I've been purchasing adventure travel services since 1999 when I first ventured to Montana and Wyoming to ride the range at the Shively Ranch, now called the DryHead Ranch. Some 45,000 acres of fresh air, wide open fields and expansive vistas that took my breath away. Riding for a week at a time the owners and staff were for me a breath of fresh air. Straight forward, plain speaking and frank with fewer words than you'll hear throught your day at work or in an elevator ride up to the floor of your office. I learned more in a few words from these plain speaking folks than in a year and a half of litigation over some piddly issue. These folks don't squabble unless it matters.

No phones, faxes, keyboards, laptops, PDA's, Blackberry's, pagers, elevator buttons or cell phones. A rollup, the clothes on your back, spurs, chaps, a vest, some water and a light snack is all your horse and you will need. By weeks end I was tired because unlike some I chose to work while there. The hard work was good for me and as people there are fond of saying, "The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man." That first year I chose to drive out to Wyoming, we stayed in that ranch house that year. I met some really fine people from all over the world. At the conclusion of my first week I was already planning next years visit.

Upon arriving home I found myself standing in my closet and remembering what a great week it had been. But it caused me to consider how it could be that for an entire week I could have so very little, and no electronics, and still could be so happy. As that thought kicked around inside my brain my eyes fixed on the clothes hanging from the top row in the walk-in closet. Many were old, some as far back as my first year in college. Why had I kept these clothes? What would influence me to save old clothes that hadn't been worn in well over 15 years and that didn't even fit me anymore? They had long gone out of style. I'd saved them because I'd been taught to save things like this just in case - for that rainy day which might come. That day when I'd need them again. Hell that day was never coming. And then it struck me that probably over 60% of the clothes in my closet were not longer needed. Are you kidding me I thought? What is this about?

And that started a serious journey into adventure travel. It was about learning to rely on myself, to evaluate and then to give away whatever I don't need. If a rainy day comes less will certainly be more anyway. I gave things away and the more I gave away the more I wanted to give away because the less I owned the lighter I felt. The less you have to insure the better off you feel.

It was a few years later, in 2002 when in Nepal that a Buddhist said to me, "You Americans have everything and yet you have nothing." For ten days I spun what he said in my head and when it struck me what he meant and how it related to my life I was literally blewn away. It was learning that lesson from the Buddhist that took me on a new journey. From that day forth I earnestly began really wanting less so that I could have more out of my life. What good is it if I work hard, to buy a lot of things, then need to work harder to buy a bigger house with more garages to store it in, only to have to work harder to pay the taxes, upkeep and insurance to store all that stuff; and then end up with no time to use any of it? In essence I have everything but I have nothing.

I'm a tool guy, I love tools. Those I can't give away because they allow me to get done more work than one man should sanely be able to do alone. So my infatuation with tools continues. I owned a Porsche, but it too was a burden. The Porsche attracted attention but not positive attention. The sleek lines, shiny paint and speed attracted jealousy and anger and just a whole lot of bullshit into my life. It had to go.

My new attitude didn't please everyone. My kids questioned whether giving everything away was a sign of suicidal depression. It wasn't. My wife at that time thought perhaps I'd suffered a stroke or had a brain tumor. She offered a free MRI, which I turned down. I told them there wasn't anything wrong with me, but with the way they were viewing life. Buying that 25th pair of shoes at the mall wasn't going to make them any happier than there were buying the 2nd pair.

All these trappings of "success" were really things hanging from the oxen's yoke on my shoulders. These things were throttling me and making life less enjoyable. Because in the end the less I have to insure, the less I have to consider living without. Imagine that. And so by riding the range north at the south end of a herd of cattle I learned how to better experience life.

On this blog I intend to cover to general subjects. The first will be the changes in me and how my life has changed. The other, how not to be taken advantage of by adventure travel companies, guides and guiding services. Just because we are naive doesn't mean we need to stupid.

Welcome to my blog named Mountain Madness Sucks. And remember even if the guiding service sucks life doesn't have to.