I would not make the trip by myself, but I also would not pass up the opportunity. I texted my sister Erica, who lives on the West Coast, "How do you feel about Montana?"

Let me back up. When I started writing about conservationists protecting our American landscapes, I knew travel was part of the package. I enjoyed walk-and-talk interviews in the woods, but Montana was different. This was no three-hour excursion but a weeklong scouting trip in America's Serengeti. It included camping in the middle of nowhere without cell reception and setting up a tent on a platform so bison wouldn't step on us while we slept. It meant carrying bear spray because grizzlies have returned to the prairie and looking out for prairie rattlesnakes. These were exciting but intimidating prospects.

I'm no stranger to camping. I knew how to erect my own pup tent by the time I was 10. Going potty outside was familiar, as was cooking on a camp stove. When my now 25-year-old was young, we camped on the weekends with friends and spent many an evening around a campfire where more people than not had a guitar packed with their gear, all before smartphones were a thing. I also spent loads of time in the woods with my husband, who is a bowhunter. He even proposed to me over a deer we harvested together.

So, why the big fuss about Montana? Because all of those adventures came to a halt when I was 35 and diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis, an autoimmune disease that, when left untreated, can be debilitating. There is no cure. My diagnosis was in no way a death sentence, but it has been a constant challenge to my quality of life. In the beginning, my joints swelled, my muscles spasmed and my energy tanked. My medical insurance required trial-and-error regimens with less expensive medications before finally approving the biologic treatments my rheumatologist recommended. All the while, my disease progressed. I spent a lot of time in bed and in pain. I used a cane to walk, and my husband had to help me shower. I even had to quit my job as the executive director of a community center. My adventures in the woods were no longer a reality.

When I was finally permitted effective medication, I slowly regained my mobility. But until last month, I still hadn't gone camping or slept in a tent. I had not really tested the hard ground or any unfamiliar terrain. Challenging hikes intimidated me, though I longed for the outdoors. I got my exercise in the comfort of a swimming pool or digging in my garden.

Nature fuels my soul, and writing about the people who champion our natural world brings me so much joy. Technology is a wonderful and useful tool, but Zoom interviews just don't capture the details in the work being done or help me understand a sense of place like being there does.

That's why when American Prairie invited me to learn about the incredible conservation work they're doing in the Northern Great Plains, I knew I wanted my sister to come with me. She not only grew up camping like I did, but she is a biologist and wildlife photographer who frequently goes backpacking and camping. I knew she was knowledgeable and experienced but more importantly, I knew I could trust her. I also knew she would help me capture our adventures with great photography.

I boarded the plane in Kentucky, and Erica met me at the Montana airport. Her car was loaded down with camping gear and her Newfoundland, Finn, rode along. This adventure was about more than land conservation. My sister's confidence helped me feel more self-assured, and when she pulled out a blow-up camping pad for me to sleep on, I knew it was all going to be OK.

Do you know anyone who's doing cool things to make the world a better place? I want to know. Send me an email at Bonnie@WriterBonnie.com. Also, stay in the loop by signing up for her weekly newsletter at WriterBonnie.com. To find out more about Bonnie Jean Feldkamp and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: at Unsplash