My first real adventure happened when I was six years old. My Dad took me with him on a fishing trip to Ross Lake in Washington State, along with my grandfather and a friend of my father's. We rented an outboard, and motored up the lake, catching our limit in rainbow trout. One night the men scared a black bear out of our camp by banging pots and pans. Unfortunately, I didn't see the bear because I had "gone to China" by tunneling to the bottom of my sleeping bag.
