I was fortunate as a young boy to have been introduced to camping, mountains, motorcycle riding, hunting and fishing by my two uncles. After my father died my two uncles took me under their wing and took me fishing and camping whenever and wherever they found the time which was generally quite frequent especially during the summertime. I have many, many fond memories of the numerous trips I took. I can still remember sitting around the campfire and listening to uncle Frank tell stories of seeing bigfoot as a child...and...seeing with my own two eyes a trout jump out of the water to hit a fly...and...riding in a four wheel jeep and crossing the mighty Kern River...and...freezing my buns off on the opening day of fishing season at Crowley Lake...and...walking on frozen lakes while looking for a break in the ice to drop our fishing lines...or seeing my two uncles flip their canoe in the Owens river after I told them they couldn't handle the shift current...and...all of us contemplating sneaking into the fish hatchery after midnight because we hadn't caught a single fish for over two days...and...watching a stick of dynamite explode in the desert after my uncle shot it with his rifle...oh enchantment...oh the fond memories...