A Rolling Stone

An introduction to how a photographer from the East Coast traveled West and almost lost his mind.

It all began almost 10 years ago, no wait, it really started over 20 years ago when I met this woman at a NYC party and eventually became my life partner, introduced me to the Rocky Mountains.

I had never traveled to the Northwest, except to the big cities like Seattle, Portland and Los Angeles for photo assignments. Montana was just a big State I would fly over and look down and wonder, "where are all the buildings? Why would any one want to live there?" When in love, one will do just about anything, even travel to Montana.

We arrived on the midnight flight in Missoula, Montana and my girlfriends' father, soon to be father-in-law, picked us up in his 79 white chevy pickup. We threw our luggage in the back and under a clear starry night headed down highway 93 South through the Bitterroot Mountains that were backlit by a full moon.