at doesn’t come from brochures or travel blogs—it comes from whispers in the wind, fragments of conversation, maybe even dreams. Bill Hole doesn’t chase places; he responds to them. And Oregon, Washington, Montana—they weren’t destinations. They were invitations. 🌄 The Pull of the Northern Wilds - Oregon: He’d heard about the forests that breathe like living beings, the rivers that carve through stone like memory. It felt like a place where silence had texture. - Washington: The mist, the mountains, the rain that never apologizes. People said the Olympic Peninsula was like the edge of the world. Bill wanted to stand there and listen. - Montana: Big Sky Country. The idea of space so vast it could swallow thought. He imagined lying in a field, watching stars blink like ancient signals. 🧭 What He Heard That Moved Him - A musician at a Bolinas show spoke of a cabin in Oregon where songs wrote themselves. - A painter at a party described the light in Washington as “liquid silver.” - A traveler passing through told him Montana was “where your mind goes quiet without asking.” 🚶 Why He Had to Go - Not to escape. Bolinas had given him everything. - But the North was calling—not loudly, not urgently. Just persistently. Like a low hum beneath his dreams. Want to explore his arrival in one of those places? Maybe Oregon first—what he saw, who he met, what changed? Or we could sketch out a map of his journey, each stop marked by a moment that shaped