I spent five days in the Crazy Mountains back in 2006, camping and hiking by myself. The “Crazies”(as they are known to locals) rise 7,000 feet above the Yellowstone River and the tiny town of Big Timber, Montana. The Crazies are an island range, running 32 miles north to south, and 15 miles west to east. They are a dry range, receiving less moisture than the massive Absaroka-Beartooth Range just to the south across Interstate 90.

There’s something about an island range that appeals to me, and I admit The Crazies continue to inspire my fiction. While not an official wilderness, they are still part of the incredible Gallatin National Forest. Unlike the Gallatin National Forest south of I-90, the Crazies do not have grizzly bears. This makes for better sleeping if one happens to be tenting. The Crazies do, however, contain wolverines, which are just as wild as grizzly bears. A hiker might encounter mountains goats, too, or the rare goshawk, which require old growth forests. A careful observer may also glimpse cougar, black bear, and lynx.

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Every fall I embark on a road trip. This is not a comfort thing. I sleep in a tent, with a “self-inflating” (haha) mattress. I wake up at 2 a.m. to the sound of bears sniffing my tent. I wake up to moose farting after they decide to bed down next to my tent. A moose’s digestive system it not a pleasant think to wake to from three feet away. It sounds like muffled screaming.

Sometimes I go to California. Or the Northwoods. But most often, my target is Montana and the northwest corner of Wyoming. Places like Yellowstone National Park, Grand Teton National Park, and the Gallatin National Forest. I am drawn to this area because it is not strip malls. The ecosystem also supports grizzly bears, which no other place in the lower 48 really does. They are cantankerous beasts, disliking roads and development. In that way, we are the same.

I do not seek daily showers or pampering. I seek solitude amongst the wild beasts. When I’m in town, I’ll sample the nightlife, maybe stay with friends. But these are usually quick excursions, and it’s back to the national forest.

So why do it? The wild spaces are my church, my religion…things I can touch and see and feel. In my wake I leave unchecked strip malls and a sickly brown haze in the sky. It has to be this way.

Who knows where I’ll end up on this one. Maybe a simple national forest like the Chippewa in Minnesota. Or maybe Olympic National Park in Washington. All that matters is that it’s wild and clean. Because these last places are the actual rare jewels in 2013.

A dryer.

First impressions are everything.

You’ve heard the saying. It could apply to numerous things: personality, hygiene, fashion sense (low on the pole), or leadership. Even more important is consistency of impressions. That person or place that can shock and awe you time and time again. The place you never get sick of, the person you never grow tired of. Perhaps it’s your favorite CD or book. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is my favorite film of all time. I could keep it on the background all day. Between the quasi-psychedelic soundtrack, exceptional cinematography, and strong characterization, I simply never tire of it. It doesn’t hurt that I like the scenery, either.

I used to know a girl who, when walking into a room, could hush the crowd with her presence. She wasn’t a swimsuit model, but had a beautiful smile and a certain energy that others gravitated to. She had more than her fair share of admirers and suitors, which she turned away with charm and class.

Then there are the places. Some making amazing impressions, some not so much. Like Midway Airport versus a national park.

Each year, I travel to the places that blow me away with consistency. The Gallatin National Forest. Glacier National Park. Grand Teton National Park. I remember traveling with an ex-girlfriend (she’s still a very good friend) back in 2001. Our goal was to see the Northern Rockies. We’d traveled a long way across Wyoming, through high desert,and counted four cars in three hours. We passed the Hoback River, and made our way into Jackson, Wyoming. We kept asking ourselves where the Tetons were, because we had heard so much about them. The hype was immense. Top ten national park immense. We drove north on highway 26 towards the park, but still could not see the much-hyped Tetons. It didn’t help that East Gros Ventre Butte loomed to our left, blocking our view. But when the butte gave way to the land beyond, the Teton appeared at once, screaming to the sky in cold, chiseled granite. We had cried out in shock, and then laughed just as hard. It turned out the hype was true. The range was stunning, far beyond anything we had imagined (and this was coming from a couple who had just been to Colorado).

Every year I try to go back there, and each time I’m no less impressed as East Gros Ventre Butte gives way to what it has always given way to.

Yet each year I search for more first impressions. From people I’d like to get to know better, to animals I may encounter to landscapes that will forever imprint upon my mind and spirit. I drive to them, I walk to them, compelled. Maybe, just maybe a few will live up to the hype.