Wilsall- follow your dreams

7/24

Our friend Seth is a perfect example of someone who abides by the "follow your dreams" motto. Growing up in the Midwestern suburbs, going out west and becoming a cowboy on a big ranch was something that Seth was rarely able to experience outside of the occasional Louis L'Amour novel.

After two years at Taylor it was time, and Seth left with his associates degree to pursue cattle management at Montana State. Since he left two years ago, every time I see him he fits the image a little more. But it was always out of context, back here in Indiana amongst corn fields, not on the open range.

Alex and I arrived in Wilsall, MT around 8:00pm with the trip odometer reading 10950 miles and parked on the street between two big, muddy 4x4 pickups. We could see the whole town from our parking spot, and I got out my phone to call Seth. Just as I placed the phone next to my ear, a tall figure wearing a cowboy hat that shaded a flannel that was tucked into a pair of Wranglers that covered the tops of some slick boots emerged from the diner down the street from where we stood.

His walk and mannerisms gave him away immediately. I put the phone away and Alex and I walked down to meet our friend on the sidewalk where he grinned, let out a little laugh, and gave each of us a hug. "Welcome to Wilsall."

Seth acted amazed to see us like we had dropped out of the sky. He poked and prodded our bikes like one of his cattle and kept saying, "I can't believe you guys are in Wilsall." Seth has always displayed this wide eyed amazement and plays that he is surprised by all that is in the world. But he is clever, clever enough to transplant himself from little burbs to big sky.

We followed Seth into the diner where I warmed over some bread and soup while Alex filled with a Montana sized burger. He told us a bit about life on the ranch and the misunderstandings of people back home. "My friends and family back home think I live the romantic life, riding my horse into the sunset and branding a few cattle, all while having a few drinks with my fellow hands. The truth is, it's a lot of hard work." Tromping around in a mixture of mud and manure up to your knees doesn't seem to make it into the beer commercials and paperbacks.

Although we missed the storms, it had been raining all day in Wilsall, and as Alex and I followed Seth's truck back to the ranch he worked on the road conditions deteriorated. By the time we pulled into the final drive up to his living quarters the road had turned to mud. I hit the final turn a little to fast, and standing on the foot pegs almost spilled in mud that would have been tricky to cross in a dirt bike let alone my street cruiser. Safely parked, I looked back at Alex who was walking his bike up the drive. The bikes were covered in mud, but we didn't care.We were there.

That night we rode with him up to a high point on the ranch. The sky was beautiful and we sat pondering life. Friends are good, and relationships are valuable and worth pursuing.

In the morning we whipped up a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Alex and I raided Seth's closet for a game of man-dress-up cowboy style. After a brief trip into town where Seth educated me on boots, hats, and electric fences we returned to the ranch and hopped on a couple of four-wheelers to explore the range. He took us to some beautiful viewpoints.



After a few hours zipping around through the sage brush, it was time to leave. Seth was sad to see us go, but released us after one final group shot.