Through the years that I have been outdoors and partaking in regular activities that most people might take it in a different way. Like myself, I have many good experiences that I will share in this narrative. Fishing, to me is a sport that requires total passion. For most individuals, it is not considered a sport, more as a boring, pointless, hobby that wastes their time and energy. Switching to land again, hunting is a sport that many enjoy. First time one goes hunting, they are instantly hooked on the passionate sport. Another thing that I will continue to take part in is camping, kayaking, and hiking. There are many experiences that I will share as well. The satisfaction that comes out of every hunt, fishing trip, camping trip, kayaking trip, and hike, keeps building valuable memories, those of which I will never forget. Telling my children about it and giving them the same experiences. In telling all of these personal stories, I wish to convey the message to all my audience that the outdoors is not that bad and if you take it a shot, you will be surprised that it is highly enjoyable. After reading my stories, you may change your view of the outdoors, if you aren’t already partaking in these types of interesting hobbies. Try all the activities mentioned for about 60 days, if you are not satisfied, return back to your normal life!



Fishing, also called angling, is the sport, preferred by many, of catching fish. Either freshwater or saltwater, typically with a rod, line, and hook. Like hunting, fishing originated as a means of providing food for survival.


Fishing as a sport, however, is of considerable antiquity. An Egyptian angling scene of about 2000 BC shows figures fishing with rod and line and with nets. A Chinese account of about the 4th century BC refers to fishing with a silk line, a hook made from a needle, and a bamboo rod, with cooked rice as bait. References to fishing are also found in ancient Greek, Assyrian, Roman, and Jewish writings. That is the history of fishing. As you can clearly see, fishing has been around for a very long time. It was used primarily, at the time for a main source of food, now a days, it is sold commercially. Still, many people participate in the recreational sport. Also, today’s fishing equipment is much more advanced and versatile. While long ago, it was a mere stick of bamboo and very primitive equipment.


I remember being asked, what was one of my favorite sports. Well I thought, for a moment and I replied with an abrupt answer of fishing. I like to call myself a fisherman. Even though my family doesn’t catch big fish every time we are there, it is just the feeling of being out there on the water, on a boat, pier, or dock. I fish primarily in the Indian River.


My dad, brother, and I go fishing on a regular basis. When we first got our speedy small boat, we would go down to the Indian River at least every Saturday. We would ride down to a small island, that we had “discovered” where we would go fishing. The island that we go is about 350 yards away from the ramp. Therefore we would go often, with little usage of gasoline. Just to give you an idea of how much we go, our boat’s hull was shiny and white when we got it, and after a year of hard usage, it turned a light yellow, even though we wash it after every use.


When we plan to go fishing, we usually check the weather; determine whether or not it is a full moon, even if the sun is out, or even the wind speed matters. All of these circumstances are crucial to the fish’s behavior. Also, not to mention you must have the correct type of bait, be it artificial, and/or live. This plays a great role in landing a monster or not. In addition it is not as straightforward as throwing a line in the water. It requires a lot of trial and error. I should know. Since the past five years of vigorous fishing in every different environment, we have spent hundreds of dollars worth of bait, hooks, leaders, lines, and everything possible to catch fish. Whenever we ask someone at a tackle shop, they mislead us into buying something that doesn’t work. As a result, we have inherited a certain rig, which enables us in catching more big fish. We first got this rig from a guy fishing in our famous fishing spot, a small strip of sand, about a hundred feet protruding from the island. We didn’t get anything before that helpful tip, but soon we were pulling out trout after trout. As you can see, it is not always easy to catch fish, and the process is strenuous. That is why the whole fishing community and I are persisting that fishing is a sport.


Once, we went to the island in the river. My brother, dad, and I went there in hopes in catching big fish. My brother and I took the boat thirty yards from shore and started casting our lines. The next thing we know, fish start tugging. We would get a tug within five seconds after each cast. That day, we caught many redfish that were smaller than the legal size. This meant we had to let them go. At the end of the day, we didn’t want to leave, but to remain fishing.


Sometimes, ones luck may turn to the worst. Even though there is no such thing as luck, more like human error. I remember it briskly, and every time I think about it, I start crying from the inside. It was a gloomy day, we were fishing in our hot spot, and we had recently bought a ten dollar top-water lure, which is very expensive if you think about it. So I was quick at tying it to a 12 pound test fishing line. The lure is huge, and the fishing rod and reel is small. I truly don’t know why I didn’t think. So I through it forty yards out, and waited for less than two minutes until I felt a giant jerk on the rod which nearly knocked me in the water. Next thing I saw was a snook, nearly 40 pounds, 50 inches long, jumping a foot out of the water. It later escaped the lure and left me in rage, cursing inside on how disappointed at myself. I will never forgive myself for that. And I will never forget that disappointing event, but at the same time, I won’t give up something I enjoy doing, next time I will just be more careful and learn from my mistakes.


After the end of that day, our morale was below zero. I couldn’t stand hearing the word fishing. Also, it was very strange. After that defeat, there were fish jumping all around us, probably them teasing me. So when we pulled out of the island and returned back to the ramp, late at night, there was another boater pulling in also. When we pulled the boat out of the ramp, one of the men from the other boat came to us with a bucket. He asked us if we would want his catch, a great sized “doormat.” Doormat is the fisherman’s nickname for flounder. That flounder was half the size of my 11 year old younger brother. So we thanked him so very much for raising our morale.


Another fishing story left my head raised high was in the same spot as the previous story, coincidentally. As I recall swimming in the river close to our boat, we were enjoying our time while the fish were trying out the bait. We were only 30 feet out in the water. So we had our rigged fishing rods in the water, in the sand in a cinder block. So there was no worry of any fish pulling the rods into the river. Then in the corner of my eyes, I saw the same small rod that had the large snook on it and got away was bending almost a whole 90 degrees. So I dashed out of the water, nearly falling face first in the sand with excitement. I did not anticipate having this one get away as well. Right as I pulled the rod out of the cinder block, I began to be pulled in, so I began walking forward, and that is when the line went slack. I tried reeling in line in hope that I was wrong about my hypothesis. I soon found out I was right. At that time as well, I started yelling in rage to myself. I assumed it was a large redfish. At that moment my morale remained the same in hope that we may catch more fish. After a five additional hours of the same routine, add bait, cast, reel, add bait, cast, reel, we got tired of it. At that time my morale was at negative 100. From that day on, we found out that the use of a heavy wire leader was needed to prevent the fish from biting its way to freedom.



Not all fishing days are hopeless. Once when we went to our hot spot, the day couldn’t get any better. It was 90 degree weather, without a cloud in sight, and no wind. We knew from the start that it would go well. So we through our lines in and before we knew it, it was like, “Hey dad, I got something.” Our biggest catch that day were some good sized trout and a few bluefish. This was not the only time that fishing was good. I would say that about 50 percent of our trips are successful. When I define successful, I mean catching fish, right? Every trip that we go on is 100 percent fun and enjoyable, hands down.


All in all, fishing is a very enjoyable hobby, and yes, a sport. As a matter of fact, I found the definition of the word fishing and its first words in the definition were –a sport. So that clears that up that dispute to whoever reads this. Also, fishing is a challenge of one’s patience and also of one’s skill. One wrong movement, be it moving the rod at the wrong time, or reeling the line in too fast when using artificial lures. That is why one must adapt to the environment in which he or she is fishing in. Also, learning the skills needed to be able to land a fish is very crucial.




Still in the realm of water, kayaking and canoeing are hobbies that I treasure so very much. We have gone on many trips in numerous places. This one activity is that I like, since it requires powerful arms and endurance. That is why I have a strong upper body. It all starts with a “where do want to go?” It is occasionally “kayaking.” So we start by hosing it down from spiders and making sure no other furry creatures are going to be coming along with us kayaking. Next, my dad and I would lift the 100 pound boat over-top his tall SUV. We strap it down and head to the water. We primarily go kayaking in the Indian River, which is about five minutes from where we live. Kayaking, to me, is the best upper-body builder that you can get and enjoy it. Each time we go kayaking, my dad and I paddle while my brother sits back and relaxes. This was until we got another smaller, single person kayak. This forced my brother to paddle. The end of every trip ends with soar arms and very tired body. This usually lasts for about a week.


I have told this story many times to many people. It all starts in the Eau Gallie River, a protruding river from the superior Indian River. We kayaked for about an hour until we went through a canal adjacent to houses on both sides. I was kayaking in the single person kayak and my brother and dad were in the other. I remember my dad telling me to stay away from the bank several times. Of course, I didn’t listen and went close to the bank. In less then a few seconds, a large marine animal of some sort hit my very tippy kayak from the bottom. My kayak was rocking crazily and I noticed a long slender body disappear in the murky waters. My legs turned to water and I was going to jump off into the kayak with my brother and dad. From that day on, I remained a far distance from the bank.


I remember the first time we went kayaking was at a small park in Suntree. We launched our two kayaks on the sandy shore and we set out. The river was a bit choppy, but we did it anyways. We set a goal to cross the Indian River and get to the other side. It took us forty minutes to cross over there, against the wind. My brother was lazily enjoying the ride while my dad and I bit our tongues, and keeping the pain to ourselves. Coming back was easier since we went with the waves. I won’t forget that day in the history of my outdoor life.


Canoeing has the same principles as kayaking. Keep your weight in the center and paddle strong, while alternating sides. I remember going canoeing with my friend in a creek that runs through the back of her backyard. The narrow creek is adjacent to houses of either side. It takes special skills to maneuver a large canoe like the one we went on through large outstretched tree branches. If you loose control you will drift through spider webs. The outcome of the trip was relaxing and it was great exercise.


Recently, I went on a retreat with my church youth group. We went out to Fort Wilderness in Magic Kingdom. We stayed in log cabins that were very luxurious. We partook in many activities, one of which is canoeing. Like our leaders said, “there is always a twist in youth group.” Subsequently, we were given instructions and they said to all the guys to get oars and get a canoe. After everyone was situated, they passed out 31db ear plugs for everyone and blindfolds. The blindfolds were for the guys only. So the guys had ear plugs and blindfolds, while the girls only had ear plugs. We set off and the people in the front started telling me directions to where I paddle. We crashed into rocks and run aground sometimes and ran into many spiders along the way. That weekend was so much fun, but the trip concluded with very soar arms.




Another wilderness activity favorite of mine that will always stay close to my heart is camping. I have gone on more camping trips than any other activity. I’ve also been through all sorts of situations. From camping during a tornado warning with very sticky, muggy weather, through very cold night on an island. Camping to me is a way to get out of life’s regular routine and just relax next to the campfire. You are sitting, there and enjoying the pristine environment around you, and surrounded by the chirping birds, gobbling turkeys, snarling hogs and croaking frogs. It is that tranquility that makes camping a very enjoyable activity. No matter how painful it might sound to people, they are missing out a lot of great relaxing time. I once was watching this show on TV in which a large family went camping in the beautiful state of Alaska. There, the mom murmured to herself, “What is the point of camping, it is torture.” After hearing that I couldn’t stop laughing. Throughout the show, she complained while her children and friends were enjoying their time there. For me, camping in my tent is like home away from home.


The most memorable camping trips are with my closest friends, my Boy Scout troop 520. Mostly all of my camping is with those guys. We have gone camping all around Brevard County and even 200 miles out of Brevard County. Every camping trip is different in my opinion, and each campsite and environment is totally diverse. I feel that a bit of everything is good, while I prefer to camp in the woods, surrounded by forests with pine trees.


One of the most treasured camping trips I have ever been on in my life was my first camping trip with the troop. We went camping in Ocklawaha, in Florida. From the beginning, our leader got his car stuck in the mud. Also, did I forget to mention that the weather was 45 degrees and it was drizzling, or at least for the first half an hour? All of that was even before we got to the campsite. To me, I was a little excited to get there and start to set up camp. When we got there, I quickly changed my mind. Finally when we set up camp, the inside of the tent was filled with mud, sand, and bugs that got in for the warmth. After a small snack before lights out, we crawled into the tent. It was eleven o’clock at the time and on the inside, my friends and I were talking. While on the outside it was constantly raining. That was the coldest night ever.


Even though it had dropped by about ten to twenty degrees in a time span of four hours, it seemed a whole thirty degrees colder. So that is one reason why I couldn’t fall asleep. The second reason is that my tent buddy, Timothy falls asleep in less than twenty seconds after he enters his sleeping bag. I really once timed it! The third and most annoying reason of all is my other tent buddy, Aaron. He is a chatter-box which will never ever stop talking even after being told a million times to stop. Finally, the fourth reason is that the tent’s material leaked in some water, which later accumulated into a puddle all over my sleeping bag and pillow. In addition to all that torture, I slept in the middle of the two boys, sleeping on a small root protruding out of the ground. Therefore, I ended up staying awake until four in the morning.


It was all ok until something even worse happened. Our senor patrol leader was waking everyone up while yelling, “Tornado warning troop 520, get out and go to the pavilion now!” In hearing this, I was the first one out and under the pavilion, and really thought to myself how much worse can this get. So after fifteen minutes, the troop was all assembled under the pavilion with a whole collection of other troops. This is so funny and every time I repeat this I have to giggle. My troop leader came up to me and said, “Hey Mario, where is your dad?” My dad on the other hand was unaware that the patrol leader woke everyone up and that there was a tornado warning in effect. Therefore he was sound asleep on his cot in his castle-sized tent. So after waking him up, we stayed underneath the pavilion for close to three hours. Finally we were given the ok to go back to our tents, but of course, I did not.


Another one of my interesting camping trips was also with the troops. But this time, it was different; it was not your regular tent and roasting marshmallows kind of camping. It was the annual island campout the troop held annually. Since we were earning our wilderness survival merit badge, we were required to sleep two nights on the island and survive. Without my knowledge, others brought sleeping bags, which apparently I missed the memo in regards bringing one. With not knowing that, I was forced to use what I had. I only had my backpack filled with the Boy Scouts basic essentials. They include flint and steal, a knife, whistle, fishing line and hook, rope, flashlight, first-aid kit, light plastic sheeting, extra clothing, signaling device, trail food, and bug spray. In my opinion, the mosquitoes were my biggest enemies during the duration of the camp. Other than sleeping on the bare ground without any cover form insects, or mice that crawled around us, the camp taught me many skills to basic survival. We learned purifying water through three different ways. Also, we learned how to catch our own food and eat it. Lastly, we learned three ways how to make fire for cooking and signaling. Not to boast, but I think I was truly the only authentic “survivor” that weekend.


The last story that I will share with you about my camping experience is my first backpacking trip. My camping experience all starts with inexperience. I remember being told to not pack what I don’t need. At the same time, I was always told that it was better to be safe than sorry. Of course I packed everything that I could have lived without. It turns out that I only used a mere twenty percent of the stuff I packed, be it food, clothing, or equipment. Before the trip, my pack weighed more than forty-five pounds, so if there happened to be a short gust of wind, I would topple over. So the actual trip all begins in John Dickenson’s State park, in Florida. Let me take a moment to describe the setting. The trails are like beach sand, and you know how beach sand is very hard to walk in with your beach chairs and cooler, so envision hiking in that with a forty-five pound pack, for 5 miles one-way. Altogether, we hiked 10 miles and a little more because the troop missed the turning trail and kept going. So after we arrived at the campsite, we set everything up and went to that nearest well and purified its water. The water came out brown and smelled like eggs which are the iron and the sulfur compounds in the pipes. I was the troop’s “water guy”. I was given the task to deliver purified water about 500 yard away, times 60 times. Although the hike was painful and it showed for the whole week the actual camping element was really relaxing. When night came, me and best friend, Tim played card games until we had to go to sleep.


Camping to me is like vacation. I would rather sleep in a tent in the mountains than in a cabin. That is because you are closer to nature than when you are in a cabin. Also, you breathe differently, and sleep differently than opposed to being inside a building. When you go camping, you must be sleeping in a tent on the ground, with the exception of a cot.



The third activity that I do that is painless if you know how to walk is plain hiking. I can tell you that my “hiko-meter” displays hundreds of great hiking miles. I have hiked flat trails that are sweet and painless, and I have hiked hilly and sandy trails. Also, I hiked mountains in California that are more that 5,800 feet above sea level. All hiking trails have one thing in common, they are packed with a unique ecosystem. Despite the bugs and snakes, some hiking trails offer nature’s best scenes. I can’t describe them in words. All the photos we take describe them in thousands of words.


Whenever we go hiking, we go to a convenient sanctuary which contains several trails. One is a wide, wooden planked boardwalk which is excellent for beginners. The other is a narrow trail which is enveloped in trees and vines. We prefer this one the most, because you are the closest to nature. You can here the rattlesnake’s rattles and the bird’s chirps, on some occasions. Also, in a way, one can smell the trees’ lovely fragrances that are spread throughout the forest.


I can recall one time when we went hiking, I spotted a female turkey only less than three yards away. It looked like we snuck up on it without it knowing. The funny part is that the sanctuary is called Turkey Creek Sanctuary. That was quite coincidental.


One summer before my high school year, my family went to California for the first time, primarily for my uncle’s wedding. So as the story goes, we attended and had more than four day there for our pleasure. We did a little research on the geography of the place and we found a few hike permitting mountain. In fact, our hotel was adjacent to a small mountain range. The next day, we set out on a sixty mile drive to another range. There we went hiking around a large lake, which we swam in. A sign that displayed the altitude there read “5800 FEET ABOVE SEA LEVEL.” Up there, my ears were popping, until we stopped driving higher. While me and my dad did that, my younger brother and mom went to Hollywood with the rest of our big family. As you can clearly see, I would rather do anything outside than see famous people’s homes.


Another hiking account while we were there was in the mountain range near our hotel. The trail we hiked was a well known trail called “Weir Canyon Regional Park.” What makes this trail different from the other is that this one is pretty much all sand, and no nice shady trees. Also, to give you a brief setting, the trail was ultimately wide, but usually narrows. The problem is that sometimes, one side is a steep fifty degrees, while the other can be an almost ninety degrees cliff. So unless you got disoriented and started carelessly walking, then there would be a chance of toppling down. After about an hour of hiking in this dessert environment, we came upon a steep forty degree hike, which turned into a climb. This climb was about a hundred feet, which was painful to go up. I was in front, which meant that if I slipped, I would have knocked over my dad and brother. But we made it alive to the top and a small jackrabbit scurried into the bushes going at a hundred miles an hour, which melted my legs. The funny part to this account is when we went back down to the car. When we walked through the entrance, there was a small education board with a map, pictures, history of the park, and a big warning. The warning read: “Warning: mountain lions are present and can attack without notice. Hike at your own risk!” we were so glad we had not read that before entering, for it would have discouraged us form going. In concluding this story, I must say that this was the best hiking I have done so far.



“Hey, nice big cottontail, five o’clock, behind those thorny bushes.” I whispered. Cocking my rifle, I took aim and nailed him squarely where I had my sights aimed on him. The final activity that I highly enjoy is hunting. Hunting, as defined everywhere is the practice of pursuing any game animal by humans for food or recreation. There is a wide variety of game that can be hunted. They range from small game animals like squirrels and cottontails to large game and predators like deer and bear. Also, there is such a huge selection of tools used to pursue these animals. Some use the old fashioned bow and arrow, and others use muzzleloaders. Most people prefer using the most versatile method of getting game, in my belief, is the common rifle or shotgun. I personally enjoy the feel and functionality a rifle. They are the prime image of the hunting experience.


One great memory that I have is the first time we went hunting. At first, my dad was too scared to go hunting for it involved killing an animal. He was scarred by witnessing his dinner meal getting slaughtered, when he was a little kid. So after that, he couldn’t stand seeing anything to do with the ending of life for warm-blooded animals. The reason I brought that up is the first time we went hunting, he was the one to shoot at it. It was a good-sized pigeon in our backyard. He then grabbed my air rifle and shot it squarely, causing it to fall without the slightest pain. He was not affected and he was quite proud of himself. So that was a big milestone for us to advance to future hunts.


Recently, we were in our backyard when we spotted two fat pigeons on the power line. I was told to grab my gun quickly and shoot one of them. So I did so and not knowing when it would fly off, I took aim carelessly. My dad told me to shoot it in the chest, in doing so I managed to hurt the poor fellow. We spent hours in the scorching sun to locate it. Unfortunately, I assumed it flew to a nearby tree and later died. At least another animal can benefit from this free meal. What I learned from that experiences was to take my time and shoot clean head shots. I was reading a book about hunting and one person said that you better shoot it cleanly and meticulously or let it be.



It takes good practice to be able hunt an animal. It is not as easy as placing the crosshairs on the animal and pull the trigger. You first find the animal by finding footprints, deciding if they are fresh or not, if the animal was running, or walking. After locating it, stalk it until the point you cannot get any closer. That takes skill, since the game you are stalking can hear a simple twig snap, or even smell the scent of your presence. (I had learned the proper techniques in doing so through the Boy Scout’s tracking merit badge.) Next, you look a good shooting position to get into, according to the circumstances. Whether you are in a flat environment, one with many trees, you must find the most stable position. Then you determine the distance. That is because the ballistic trajectory is not flat. Even a high-velocity bullet will drop several feet at a few hundred yards. That is if you are shooting farther than the distance you sighted in the scope. So you must know the distance and know where to position the crosshairs. This will counteract the missing low shots. Also, finding the wind speed and direction is very crucial. Even a very heavy bullet will be pushed by the wind. Finally when all of that is taken care of, it takes a slow and neat trigger pull. Jerking on the trigger when shooting jerks the gun as well. So that is a whole sequence of things a hunter must do before making the shot.


Hunting and shooting are much related in my opinion. Since they require guns and good marksmanship. I know that hunting isn’t only with a gun but with a bow, trap, slingshot, and any of other method of legally taking game. But whatever method used, they all need many hours of strenuous practice and dedication to the sport. My family spends a whole lot of time fine-tuning our skills at the local gun range. Every fourth Saturday of each month, an old man comes and brings his guns, trying to hook young kids on the sport. Therefore we go there and attend.


In the fall, the general gun hunting season begins in our zone. This applies for the Florida public hunting land. A good friend of my dad’s has a few guns so he partakes in taking hogs, turkeys, and deer on his own land. He offered for us to come along with him on the hunt. He hunts turkey early in the morning, while everything is quiet. (Also, hunting turkey is allowed only during certain hours of the day.) Just picture yourself waking up around four in the morning, on Thanksgiving Day and setting out to the local wildlife management area. Then you set up your blind and decoys. After you harvest your catch, you go back home to gut it and clean it. Then you stick it in the oven and let it roast for a few hours. Lastly, you take it out, and enjoy your Thanksgiving meal. Honestly, it doesn’t get any fresher than that.


There are some species of animals that I have no problem to hunt. They are a nuisance to society and to the environment. For example, the wild pig, also called the wild hog, wild boar or feral pig. They are not a Florida native and may have been introduced by the Spanish explorer Hernando Desoto as early as 1539. Hogs cause extreme destruction to property and are known to kill humans. Once, my brother had a campout with his Cub Scout troop and the place we went to spelled wild pig all over it. The dirt was cultivated and the ground didn’t have a lot of vegetation left. Another animal that I don’t mind hunting is the eastern cottontail, or the common rabbit. They don’t destroy their habitat, but multiply at an outstanding rate. In one season a single female rabbit can produce as many as 800 children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. A doe (female rabbit) is ready to breed at about 6 months of age, and a buck (male rabbit) at about 7 months. Therefore, hunting them won’t affect their population. The third animal is deer. The whitetail deer is one of the most popular hunted game animals. The reason why hunting them is not a problem to me is that they destroy their own habitat. If the population is not controlled, then they will eventually loose all of their habitat. People have the common misconception of hunting “Bambi.” That is not true.


Sometimes, people disobey the rules and regulations. This very much irritates me. I read a book about hunting, and the guy was describing how bad some people may be. Once, he said he was hunting with a park ranger and his son. His son shot a pheasant and gave it a look and tossed it in the bushes. This is such a waste of perfectly good meat, waiting there for it to rot. Another story was when he went hunting with his friend and his friend shot a trophy buck. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find it, since he was too lazy to follow its tracks. So the author of the book tracked it down, and claimed it himself. In my opinion, any hunt should be a one shot, one kill. Even if the game runs off, you still have to put your hardest effort in finding it. That makes the experience greater and more enjoyable.





All in all, it has been great talking about some of my most memorable experiences in the great outdoors. In giving these short stories, I hope to somewhat encourage you slightly to try experiencing it. They are an exceptional way to add memories that are cherished forever. You are probably thinking that I am completely passionate about it, and that I am taking it too the extreme. What do you expect? I don’t sit at home and get trapped in video games in my free-time. That is why when my friends ask me if you played this game I always say an abrupt no. they feel a bit of sympathy but I feel sympathetic for them. If only they knew how t is like. Unfortunately, not everyone is into the outdoors, which is something I must accept form my friends. On the contrary, I very much enjoy the freedom of the outdoors’ best that nature has to offer. That is what people don’t understand. They think that I am the weird one for I partake in the outdoors. Also, many ask me why I don’t participate in a sport. I simply tell them I do all of these activities, therefore I can’t do any other. In the future I hope to extend the bar out a little more, doing more things, and becoming braver. I was inspired to write this because these are some things I really enjoy and I felt real comfortable about writing this. In closing, these are the stories of the outdoorsman within.