The best times were going hunting with my dad in Oregon. I was only 5-6 years old the few times we went but I'll always remember it. We hiked each day for several miles taking breaks to hunt and then at the end of the day he'd find a cliff like area so that nothing could sneak up on us, then he would drag a large log to block off the edge in case I rolled in my sleep. We would lay out our bags, build a fire and then he would boil some water and make hot cocoa for me and coffee for himself. We'd have crackers and venison jerky for dinner or he'd heat up a can of stew and we'd share that. I remember that even though it wasn't much food it was always enough. One of the times we kept seeing a mountain lion on far off ridges, it was a small one and I remember not even being scared because my dad was there. A couple of times he would fire a shot close to it to try to scare it off. I had my Daisy BB gun and I had to keep the bb's in my pocket so they didn't rattle in the barrel so it was mainly my walking stick. I remember seeing a bear with a cub by a stream and a herd of elk grazing in the valley from the side of the mountain we were walking horizontally on. He'd show me deer tracks and fresh droppings. But of all things that stick with me from those times I'll remember the scenery and how beautiful every view was and I'll remember how vast and empty the wilderness was and how free I felt. For some reason even at that age I felt like I had experienced all of that before in another life as a young Indian on hunting trips with his father. There's just something soul cleansing about being far away from civilization, just a young boy and his father passing on a tradition of knowledge of the land and the habits of animals. It was a real bonding experience as well. I learned to trust my father more and he knew that I would learn from my experiences and how valuable taking my own children out into the wild, if I ever had any, would be.
