our first month

We’ve officially been here a month as of last week, and it’s already been one hell of a ride.
It’s been wonderful. Scary. Stressful x 10. Hard. Exhausting. But we’re here and we’re making it work. Many things have  happened already.
So in it’s honour — the anniversary of yet another big adventure —  here is a minefield of pictures from our first month back in the West.















old bow leg

Well, as you can see I found a home in Wyoming. A place that is enough to possibly persuade me to stop running one day. If Wyoming were an ocean I would spend my life trying to drink it, whether the salt would burn and poison me would be trivial. Though even New England where the sea was close — I found myself missing the sea because it was so cramp and full of tourists. It was never like those cold nights alone on Sand Bay beach. Thousands of miles from me now and years of memories past.
Here there is no ocean or tall ships, there is only waves and waves of empty prairie. And for now I shall have to get my oceanic fix when I fly home to Denmark or you know.. if I ever get lucky enough to take a holiday to Saint Vincent where the sea is blue and the sand is whiter than I am.

I could never choose what I loved most or what I wanted to do. And so I told the world to go fuck itself.
I’ll do it all.
And I have.

I’ve sailed with pirates and commodores. Ive ridden horses on the Texas front and I’ve been the clown I was born to be. These days I find myself in a strange state of mind. A happiness wrapped in dark melancholy that is oddly comforting.
I have a job that pays me and will fund every dream from now. I have the west and I find my dreams coming true even weekly. But when you are a part of so many things that make your heart pump a million, there is always something missing.
Today is not a day that I will sail. Nor is tomorrow. But there will be a day when I see the sea and we’ll kiss like we always do.

I don’t know what kind of believer I am, but I know things do happen. And one thing that happened most recently, something that shook me to my core, was that I met a horse.. a horse that captured me like a sail from a mast holding the wind. An old man whom I call Old Bowleg. Im sure local photographers have an actual name for him, but I gave him this one.
A majestic horse that has seen war with half his ear chewed from its cartilage and a leg bent all out of shape. Yet still he stands as tall as the trees at the bottom of a valley. Still he knows the favorable wind and it flows through his mane. If there was a god — he walks this earth with a bowleg. Now that is something I can believe in.
He was a painting. He was an old chieftain without his tribe. I believe that he had been run off from his mares by a younger suitor. So out there on top of the mountain I found him. Between the reeds and the straw. This beautiful animal, stronger than any man I’ve ever seen, and his faith never wavered in all his years regardless of the fact that his leg struggled beneath him. It didn’t matter because he could fly.


If I had had the time to sit and talk with him a while I would have, but alas it was not be this time. If he Is still alive when the summer comes I shall look for him and maybe I am destined to look for him for an eternity. If that is the way, so be it. But how grateful I am to have seen him even for a moment, it seemed but a second. He was what I always dreamed a true American mustang must be. What America was and can be again. Thats unfair. America is a wonderful place, but the politics — the never fucking ending political bullshit is nonsense. And so I don’t think about it. I think about what I see and what I feel.

And that horse, that day — he took something from me and since I saw him I haven’t been able to stop feeling like I wanted to run back. I don’t relate to people. Thats not my business. Animals, its always the animals. They have me in a vice. Bowleg gave me something… a vision. I will remember him as my spirit horse — the one who taught me that though I have been pained and wounded it doesn’t have to stop me. It doesn’t have to define me. As long as I remember.
Remember. Remember. Remember.
To as true to you as you can be.
It doesn’t matter what Agatha did or what Johnson said. Riley can go fuck himself. What matters today and tomorrow is what you are.

No one can take that from me. And no one can take it from you.
Wopila!

chasing the american mustang *take one*

As i said before, i’ve always wanted to photograph the american wild horses whether it was in Nevada or Wyoming, wherever.
I never thought in a million years i would live either place. I feel pretty lucky and i feel incredibly far away from home at the same time. For thats a very rare feeling, usually I don’t think much about how far from Denmark or England I am, but this time I really knocked distance out of the park.

This weekend we took a drive around to see if we could catch some glimpses of wild horses near us here in Laramie, and there are quite a few. I’ve been looking for them since we got here and finally I’ve started being able to piece some kind of pattern together. If i felt like getting my ass shot and risk trespassing i would’ve gotten a lot closer to them than i did. But this is only the beginning of another old dream i thought would never happen and yet here we are. You and me — on my little blog.


Ironic really, i’m the type of person who doesn’t believe dreams come true but a lot, if not most, of mine have so far. When hell comes knocking for me, he’s got some real shit in store of me. I can count on it, but for now i’ll enjoy the fruits of my labor of this dreaming business. It feels like after all these years of moving, travelling, homesickness and struggle are starting to pay off. And it’s lovely to see Jack back in his natural habitat. The Plains.

Now that my full time job is starting tomorrow i’m pretty excited about looking into purchasing a new lens for wildlife photography because theres critters everywhere around here. Everywhere. And it also means i can finally start putting some money away to go to the school of horseshoeing in 2020. Lots of things are coming together.. I just have to get the first day over with which for me is the biggest hurdle because its scary and uncomfortable and daunting. Is it the weekend yet?

On this trip alone we came across prairie dogs, bald eagles, red hawks, resting pronghorns and three or four different herds of horses on the hillside a little too far away. Whereas in New Hampshire I felt lucky if I saw a plastic bag fluttering around in the wind like a ballerina — but not really because pollution sucks balls. New Hampshire was beautiful, but this is another world.

This is where we belong right now. On the plains with this beauty. Dappled in utter perfection somewhere on Sheep Mountain.


One day, on these lonesome prairies so high in the sky, i’d like have a homestead with my own herd of wild mustangs that just drift over hundreds of acres. And have a couple of retired draft horses too … because damn i love draft horses.

Thanks for reading. I hope for us all that the weekend comes quicker than a woman during foreplay, unless she’s got a headache — in which case. Good luck friend, I do not envy you.

All Trails Lead to Laramie **vlog**

It took me forever and I’m glad its over so I can get a million of my other things done.. like writing my books.
I hope you all enjoy the fruits of my efforts. Feel free to ask and comment below!
Tell me what would be on your bucket list and where you would go.

all trails lead to laramie

Its been a few months since we found out we were moving.
We’d been waiting so long it felt like it was never going to happen. The sun and moon set a million times too many, but finally the sun rose to her peak and we were given the news.  It was between two places originally, but all our trails are leading us to the truest west the USA could offer.  To the land where Calamity Jane has  been seen flouncing around from bar to bar and riding from town to town. Where the railroad towns were built, and stand there still amidst the windy plains the little hells on wheels. The Cowboy State of America and where there isn’t an abundance of people to bother us.
All our trails are leading us to Laramie, Wyoming. The land of the wild mustang, buffalo (bison to you sticklers for accuracy) and the notorious grizzly bear, who isn’t too scary to an angry mother moose.

The beginning.

We all know i’m terrible at blogging. Not a secret and no point beating around the red-bush about it.  It’s just not my kind of writing and thats why i keep trying. I never could keep a damn diary either, i always ended up doodling naked ladies, making notes for plays/stories and writing poetry. I did desperately want to though however, because pretty girls on telly kept diaries. Normal people kept diaries. That was never supposed to me. I was a short little thing with pigtails (before i cut them off), scraped knees, big front teeth and freckles all over my nose. I couldn’t keep a diary because i was too fucking busy fighting the royal navy on the beach, burying treasure, climbing trees to see how far away my house was and digging till i reached China. And for that reason and many others, i haven’t been writing things down as i meant too. Nevertheless i’m doing it now whether or not i ever reach that great wall of China.

Pimples, periods and packing. The three p’s that don’t fucking mix.

I don’t know how i got through the last few weeks of New England, it might just be me but when i know i’m leaving i just want to get up and go. So staying at my job for as long as i did after i found out there was a light at the end of the tunnel — was an utter nightmare. The job was hard enough to go to everyday as it was haha, but when freedom came waving her skirts i could barely sit still. Im glad that job was over. Hot damn it was hell. IF you’ve ever been the most intelligent and normal human being at a job you know what i mean. Being surrounded by rich scientists who think they are somebody because they spend a sugar tone of money and name drop like popping pimples, the worst. And you’d think they had some form of common sense. But i digress.

Bennett Way and her bright lights.

The closer we came to leaving the more sleepless nights i had, so i’d wake up and watch the sunrise and pack the last few bits and bobs in the apartment, all the while dreaming and planning and thinking how different things will be. I really hoped that i would be re-inspired once i got to Wyoming and find a place that i felt i could stay in. New Hampshire was just hard. Jack was lucky enough to be surrounded by some great guys at work whereas for me, as per usual, i managed to find every crazy person from every rock that had something to say. And they were all my bosses and what a fucking joke. In truth i am a nice person i suppose, but i just don’t deal with bullshit well, in fact i choose not to deal with it and just disappear. Once i’m done with something — im absolutely done and we were done with New England a couple of years ago. I will say though, that the last few months of my job i spent 8 to 5 writing and writing and writing and writing. And i took the money like someone kind of sneaky whore with an STI.
Ask me if i have any regrets.
I would love to write for a living. How do i make that happen?

Our little apartment is almost packed.
Where we loaded our trailer that would go on to Wyoming without us.
Almost dead after two days of loading Uhauls and trailers in 123901283901283 degree heat and humidity.
A welcome break from packing, loading, cleaning and so forth.

On August 14 we moved everything from our Uhaul to our ABF trailer that we rented for the trip. Originally we thought about just getting a Uhaul van with a trailer for the car, but we wanted to travel in luxury this time. When we moved from Texas to New Hampshire we had to blast right through every state faster than a scared dog. So this time, we did it differently. We loaded a Uhaul with all our belongings, drove them down to Massachusetts and loaded them onto the trailer, because the trailer couldn’t make it into our badly set up apartment parking. The trailer was then moved for us and arrived here in Wyoming a few days ago. Easy as taking a shit after a curry and only yesterday morning did they come and pick it up without a fuss. It was well worth it in my opinion. All we had to worry about was the car and ourselves on the way. So we could stop wherever and whenever we wanted to. And we did! That is another blog post entirely and that’ll be coming up in the next week or so.
All that loading though — kicked my ass. I’m glad i was actively working out every day and working weights or i never would’ve been able to move our things as we did. But now i need to get back on to that without the free gym at the apartment complex. Booooooo.

Something strange is afoot on our last trip to our local circle K in Newmarket.
When we first moved into the apartment and Basil loved to supervise the workmen outside and watch cars go by.

And someone we couldn’t have survived New England without. Someone we have everything to thank for. Basil, who i will no longer think i see at every corner of the apartment as the apartment now belongs to another. That is the cruelest part of the move for me. Feeling like i left Basil behind even though that dog would have gone anywhere with us in life or in spirit. But that is what i will miss. The comfort of knowing Basil lived here with us and that is something that is missing from the new house. The three Musketeers that are but two. But those of us who have been so lucky to have a dog — we know they never truly leave until we are ready to go with them. And Basil will forever be at my feet, on my lap and in every sundown and dream. Because that was Basil. Leaving New England is in part also a way to force me to move on and stop lingering for him to return.

I’m lucky he was mine and how we love each other, even in death.

I am a man of constant sorrow — it’s true.

We left New England on the 16th of August and arrived on the 21st tired, with a million adventures under our belts already and a positive first impression. I could write about everyday on the road if i wanted, but i’m not that kind of person. If i wouldn’t read it myself i wont write it. Just as i wont post every single picture i took of us just driving, because how dull. What i can tell you is that having someone, who changes everything, to drive two thousands miles with should be on everyones bucket list. We made like Jack Kerouac and made the road our life. We drove through every storm and swore at every traffic jam. I was surprised at the prices of each fucking toll — money grabbers! And we watched every sunset from all the Holiday Inns from Wyoming to New York.

We drove through 2 or 3 tornado warnings, but other than that the weather was perfect the whole way.
Find someone worth travelling thousands of miles with.
The sundown over New York.
Somewhere in Pennsylvania.
Entering Knox County, Illinois.
Winterset, Iowa.

I can’t fully explain in words yet, what it felt like to finally be back in Old West country. When the mass of buildings started to dwindle and cars were replaced by cows and bison. When there were more horses than people. And when a horizon kissed our foreheads for what seemed the first time in 4 years as we drove to our new adventure. Country accents laced with hospitality you just don’t find anywhere else. Attentive service at the local eateries and free beer for a cock up. That’ll take me a month or two to comprehend — to find that this was real.

A view of Omaha Nebraska from our room in Iowa. Below us is the Missouri river.
Almost at our new hell on wheels home. <3 This is Cheyenne, Wyoming where we spent the last night before reaching Laramie.
Rugged country.
Out of focus, but we arrived safely to the Cowboy State!
Our new home!
The first Wyoming sundown.

These aren’t the only pictures i took but as i said, I wont show you everything because some of it is just mine. Maybe in another post later on when the dust has settled. I think this is the furthest i’ve ever been from little Jylland in Denmark. The furtherest from my family i’ll probably ever be and of course this will most likely be where i stay. Thats not a reflection on my family, but for some reason this was just where my heart stopped weeping. A place i didn’t feel my spirit was sore.
We travelled from New Hampshire, Massachesetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and finally found our Wyo. Everything went as planned it.
Some of our things were a little scratched up and worse for wear when the trailer arrived but that was our fault, i can’t fault the service at all. We probably wont do it again though because we wont be doing another cross country move.
I’m sure someone in your life has told you, that everything is a learning curve? You wont get it a hundred percent straight off the bat and if you do, i have to wonder whose paying and whose doing the work for you.

Danish kid back in the country.

And so, here i am. Back in my boots and hat and plaid and new wrangler jeans, and god damn proud of it. Sitting in our backyard no less. Our trip here was a trip of a lifetime, a trip people fly to America to do. We crossed out 4 to 5 things from our bucket-list if not more along the way. The strangest thing for me is that some of these bucket list dreams i dreamt about when America was just a mythical place beyond the water that i never truly wanted to visit, because i didn’t want to fall in love and end up never moving back to Denmark.  Life knew better, didn’t he?

Well, thats it from me for today.  I have a mountain of unpacking to do and some breakfast to make. Soon i’ll have the vlog ready that accompanies this particular post and i’ll probably be working on that today and the rest of this week.

Until then.
Until then.
Until then.
Coming soon to Youtube — All Trails Lead to Laramie Vlog