i’ve been gone from home a long damn time now


I’ve been gone from home a long damn time now. I don’t remember it much, the memories escape me and are beginning to seem like nightmares, some of the good dreams appearing like golden stones amongst all the broken rocks on all those beaches i once watched stretch far as the eye could see — while i sailed around the South West Coast of England. For many years i blamed England for a lot of things, my hardest living was on those shores and it gave me that cynical shell i so like to stew in but lately i’ve been missing home. The good house on Sand Road that now stands ruined by modern greed, the bay where i’d run into the sea in the middle of winter and wave the pirates by — waiting till i was old enough to go with them. Where i was soft hearted, and i was truly. I’d go and see the fine commodore, my dearest friend, and talk about all the things he’d seen and he’d tell me of the writer he knew i’d be. When all was deaftly quiet i would tell him..
“If something happens while i’m gone,” i’d say all choked up and taking a long look at my once only friend. “You come and you tell me yourself, no matter how you go. You find a way to tell me — and you promise to visit me.”
“Oh Izzie, i will. I’ll sit in a dark corner with a bottle of good chardonnay and boo at you as much as you like.
It’s a tough life living on wheels and wings and strange intentions. But thats me, whether i asked for it or not. Honestly, i think i always knew that i would never live any place forever and thats why i still to this day am very dubious about letting folks in. Whats the point when i wont be around long enough for anything to matter?


For the rest of my life my heart will always be a little broken and lost, with no real place thats mine and as the years go by i’m beginning to get real square with it. Lately i’ve found everything hard and i don’t mean that to seem bad, its not necessarily. I’m still here to ride through it, right? I don’t really understand what i’m meant for. To move from place to place like my traveller ancestors? To sail out in the venturous sea like my forefathers and gods or if i am simply bred to exist and talk about whatever my hearts dreaming of?  I could be dead before i find that out, which tells me thats not that important.
England, old girl and sailors haven, how i miss you today. And i suppose it’ll always been on the heart of my sleeve, but i forgive her now. I’ve hit the age that i can forgive her and i hope she forgives me, perhaps now we may both have peace. It took me moving to the western world where the sand is red like blood, the wind is a bitch and where i see possibilities where there are only stray mustangs and jagged cliffs — for me to realise that England made me hardy girl.
Summers beginning to loom in, teasing us with her random warm days full of sunshine from here to China. I’ve never wished for Summer more than i am lately. Winter in Wyoming wasn’t as bad as we’d been told it would be, but it feels like we’ve been living in the cold for 5 years and seen very little of good sunshine. Suppose we’re missing our Texas sunrises and hot afternoons with bees buzzing about us like poverty ridden men with no water.

Wyoming was one of my favourite places when we first moved here, i loved it before i started working. It was a free place where i could see Calamity Jane in the street and hear her drunken cussing as she rode into the dark. Since then, i’ve started to realise — as much as i like it here and enjoy the landscape, theres too much willing us onwards a final time, or southwards i guess. Perhaps if my situation was different and i was living like a western author i could see about living here for years to come, but Its not Texas. Its not a place we can run to when shit hits the fan, theres no Matt Le Blanc to talk through life’s troubles with and love til the day we all die, no Van Roekel or Madeley to laugh and live with. Texas, why the thought of her now sends tears to my eyes and sends my heart into absolutely frustration. The home where i fell in love with a Texas boy, and the little dog at his feet who loved me through all my faults.


While i sat on this rock and waited for the camera to click, my life flew by like a stone through a window. I never dreamed i’d be where i was. I never would’ve believed that that person sat right there — would be me. But it is. Im tough, i’m honest and getting there. I pretty rough around the edges after all these years and a lot of scars richer than before. Wyoming inspired me and gave me the push i needed to finish my novel, something i never believed i’d achieve. I have finished it and while the rest of the world is crying in a pandemic, all i can think about is my novel and the new venture i’m about to embark on. I’ll always be who i was, and i’ll always keep changing.

I wanted to go out to take pictures on Saturday, i had this feeling that i needed to get out out out. So we took a walk by the outskirts of town. We found new places to explore when the summer finally shows up. I sat down and played my flute a while as i listened to the wind, Jack holding my camera up so the wind wouldn’t knock it over and thats were this little bleeding notion hit me, and thats what i’m doing here. Sharing it with you.

what happens on friday nights

It happened in the blink of an eye, immediately after i complained on my instagram about having no place to do horse-y things …I found a place.
I came across a non profit horse revival organisation that helps horses in need. And its in town. Crazy — cause i’ve been looking for  places like that since before i even stepped foot in Laramie. I went to a few and never heard anything back when i attempted to reach out after our original meetings. But this one i found out about yesterday morning, sent in my form a little after lunch and had set up a casual meeting at 5.30pm that afternoon.

I left work early, i figured it was owed to me as i arrived earlier than expected in the morning. Jack picked me up from work and we went home, i threw on whatever farm gear i had handy and left, lickity split.
The sun down is always beautiful on that edge of town and everything was beautiful hues of pink and soft purple. The mountains in the distance were already cuddled up to bed.
The people i met were lovely, wonderful and happy people. Folks that you like the moment you meet them. For me thats saying a lot. They treat horses with respect and don’t act like they’re some fluffy teddy bear to show around like a fairy on a string. This non profit is working its bones and doing whatever they can to help what ever horse they can. And i am honoured to be able to become even a little part of it.

Prada – the sweet arabian princess.

This afternoon i’ll be going back to get my hands dirty and trying to get into a swing. I’m a little nervous as i always am when it comes to new things, but im so excited too. I hope i can remember what i’ve learnt over the years, by law im not really a “horse person” like the others around here or anywhere. I didn’t grow up living in it. I grew up chasing it, but this is a great start in a good place. I’ll update you when i can about how it goes.

I hope you enjoy the little video i made of my first trip out there today.
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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