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.