2019 ended in the worst possible way. My furry soul mate Wrigley passed away on December 27th. I forced myself go on a date for New Years, and I was nothing more than a zombie in shock, stumbling around slack-jawed. I felt bad for my date.
From there I slept for a month in Missoula, then stayed at a lodge in Yellowstone for a week. As I packed up and left the lodge, something powerful compelled me to drive to Chicago and see good friends, including Wrigley’s cat pal, Ruffy, whom I’d rescued with my friend Sarah.
I spent a month in Chicago with those very good friends and Ruffy. From there I drove back to Missoula, Montana to prepare for a move to LA. My agent had rented a house in the Hollywood Hills. We had numerous meetings, networking events, and dinners planned with very creative folks. The plan was to move to LA for my career. A week after I arrived, the mayor shut down LA (for obvious reasons). All my dinners were cancelled and my meetings morphed into Zooms.
So, my agent left LA to head back to New York and I had the house to myself. I woke up one morning and couldn’t move. Literally. My lungs felt weird. I had a fever. My chest was tight and I could hardly walk up two steps.
Then I received a phone call that Ruffy died of cancer two weeks after I left Chicago. Was that why I felt the strong pull to speed out there from Yellowstone National Park?
So, I isolated myself for thirty days. The lung symptoms stayed the longest, and I embarked on a vigorous walking program and low-inflammatory diet to return my lung function to normal.
I found myself back in Missoula shortly after that. One night, while out running errands, I had shotgun pulled on me in the parking lot of a gas station.
Fun.
I literally thought I was going to be shot as this dude pulled out a military style shotgun. He was shaking, threatening, and angry because I’d asked him to respect the new six foot social distancing guidelines.
The incident made the news as the first social distancing dispute. But I did my best to suppress it as the nation was worried and anxious. I did not want to feed the flames.
Somehow, I’d survived Covid and a shotgun. But 2020 wasn’t done with me yet.
I decided to head to Grand Teton National Park to film grizzly 399 and her quad cubs, and to camp and film nature far away from people. I had one of the most productive and awe inspiring days of my life. And also met a cool girl. We arranged a date in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for that evening. Eight miles north of town, I bull elk ran out in front of my car. Next thing I knew, the car window shattered, smoke pouring everywhere.
When I limped out of the car, the elk was gone. And a few days later, my beloved Subaru Crosstrek deemed a total loss by the insurance company.
When I hit the elk, the back leg almost went through the windshield, but the hood crumpled just in time to block the hoof. Right where I had Wrigley’s collar wrapped around the rearview mirror.
I was sore for thirty days.
The insurance company cut me a check so I bought a new car up in Whitefish, Montana. After these consecutive near death encounters, I thought it might be a good idea to see family, In this case my dad, who lives in Colorado. I remember chatting with him and his wife in their kitchen, me wearing a mask. Strange times.
I spent a month in that beautiful state, visiting with my dad, friends, and the girl whom I had the date with in Jackson Hole.
From there I spent ten days filming grizzly bears in a remote corner of Yellowstone, away from people, at this point doing whatever I could to center myself from recent experiences. I went on hikes, jotted down notes in my phone, reflected on the state of things. I was high on all the national forests I’d been visiting, my mind filled with grizzlies, forests, sunsets. But I was also frazzled.
I spent the summer and fall in Missoula, Montana working on The Puller screenplay and a new novel. And walking. A lot of walking. It was a beautiful summer and fall, weirdly smoke-free for western Montana.
So what will being in 2021 feel like?
Honestly, it makes me wonder how the hell I survived 2020. Covid. Shotguns. Car wrecks.
Damn.
But I can feel the winds of change blowing. It’s probably time for me to find a new patch of ground to kick around on. Time to spend more time with my head in my laptop, doing the things that got me here. Maybe Oregon. Or Northern California. We’ll see.
What have I learned in all this? What’s the takeaway? What is the core lesson?
Not much. I’m just a man.
Best,
– Michael
