I didn’t choose my path or the path. It chose me.
I’ve called Maine home since I was four—rocky coastlines, long winters, and people who don’t waste words. It’s a place that builds you from the inside out. Straight lines. No fluff. Earned trust. But in 1992, my wife and I pointed the car west…
We were newlyweds — just chasing something we couldn’t fully explain. Adventure, skiing, space… a bigger life. No real plan—just a direction.
Our favorite song… ⚡️ Into the Mystic by Van Morrison 💫 ✨
We took the long way—down the East Coast, through the Everglades, across Texas, then up through New Mexico and Colorado. We looked at Taos and Telluride, but nothing quite fit. Too crowded. Too complicated. Not right for a couple just starting out.
Then we landed in Jackson Hole. Big mountains. Deep snow. Real people. We stayed only one year—but that year stayed with us. It shaped everything that followed.
But life doesn’t move in straight lines. Kids, college, careers… responsibility shows up fast. I built a wealth management firm in Portland, Maine and spent years helping people solve simple problems. Nothing flashy — just principles that work. Spend less than you make. Pay down debt. Build for the long term. Create options instead of pressure. It’s not complicated—but it isn’t easy either. We built a good life doing just that.
Still, we never lost the original signal. Late nights. Quiet conversations. A vision board filled with van-life photos and western horizons. A reminder of where we started. We tore it down more than once. Too far away. Too expensive. Too unrealistic. But we eventually would put it back up. Sometimes the vision has to hold you.
Piece by piece, things started to shift. What felt impossible became plausible. Then slowly… inevitable.
Not fast—but steady. Thirty-one years later, we looked west again. Jackson had changed—but so had we.
Then we found Bozeman. And something clicked. Same mountains. Same access. Less noise. More signal. It fit who we had become. We traded the van dream for something simpler.
A small townhouse. A real basecamp. Now I live between two worlds. Maine—where I come from.
Montana and the American West — where I roam. Both are home in different ways.
These days, I write, film, trade and explore from both places. Hiking, skiing, backroads, wildlife. Starlink in tow, laptop and iPad on board, phone in hand, drone in the air, cameras rolling. Not chasing perfection—just capturing what’s real.
I’m not trying to be the best. I’m trying to be present. That’s the real shift over time. From building a life… to living it. The Mainer Montanan isn’t just a blog. It’s a lens for how I see the world now. Simple, grounded, and a little bit wild.
Less noise. More signal.
Experience over excess. Adventure over comfort. Principles over trends. A life that actually feels like yours.
Dreams don’t show up all at once. They build quietly in the background. Then one day, you look around and realize — you’re already living part of it.
