Living with indians
I left home at fifteen (that is the time when my dear, eccentric father also left to marry for the secone time) but we both went our separate ways and by the time I was twenty three, I had travelled many miles and lived a thousand lives. My footprints are embedded in land across the globe. It is no wonder that my head is spinning with tales to tell.
For some time, I lived amongst the Makah Indians in the wilds of the Pacific. It was here I fished amongst the great orcas in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Bartering with the Indians became a way of life; a life which I knew was totally illegal. I soon began to change and looked at everything in a completely different way.
I played music in mountains more spectacular than those found in Switzerland (though I have been there also and they are indeed magnificent). I have done things perhaps I shouldn’t have done and risked my life a million times. My feet, though small, have worn out many shoes, trekking places less travelled. And my heart is engrained with enough stories to fill a thousand books. It’s no wonder I have little trouble finding tales to write for you on these quiet nights...but I do need to finish my books.
Remember, whatever it is you are longing to do you, writing a book, travelling, a different way of cooking, visiting long lost friends, etc, you must find a way to do it! It is as simple as that. You see, it is indeed later than you think!