Battle Born

I come from a long line of rugged frontiersmen. Men who did whatever they had to in order to survive. Tough. Independent. Resilient.

For five generations, the unforgiving landscape of the Nevada desert has shaped our lives. The Wild West has been a major character in all of our stories, and no matter how hard we try to leave, each of us is called back to dance with the desert again. For me, that call came the summer after I turned eleven. I never could have predicted how my time in Nevada would shape the rest of my life, but I’m glad I got to spend a decade breathing in its untamed air.

There are few places that will foster a spirit of adventure like the absolute desolation of the high desert. Wide valleys bordered by rugged mountain ranges and covered by clear blue skies; and, once in a blue moon, a blanket of black clouds echoing with thunder.

Long, straight highways that cut their way through sagebrush-covered valleys and connect small town, to smaller town. No one around but you, God and the devil. That’s when you really get to know yourself.

There are no distractions out there. No one to compare yourself to. It’s in the desolation that you learn exactly who you are and what you’re made of. The desert will weigh and measure you, and if you can’t cut it, you’ll know. There is no hiding.