What are your best Camping, Hunting, or Hiking stories? Share & You Could Win!

I have a pretty good one. Back when my brother and I were roughly 12 years old, our dad thought it would be a fun idea to play hooky from school and go out for a one day camping trip. Being kids, my brother and I were ecstatic to ditch school and go out to the wilderness to do some fishing. We travelled out to a prominent river area that was close to the campsite and tried our luck at fishing. Nothing was snagging on our lines and we stood out there for a good hour before deciding to move up the river a bit. We eventually spotted a small bridge and thought that would be a good place to cast our lines. When we looked down, there was a frenzy of fish just waiting to grab at our lines. As soon as we put our lures into the water, a fish would hook right on and be pulled up. This was possibly the craziest fishing I have ever done and we were just reeling them in like a Marine drinks a beer. Unknown to us, a news team decided to stop by the bridge and noticed us catching fish. They came up and asked to record us fishing because they were doing a news segment on the return of wildlife to the river because of a bad chemical spill a decade or so ago. So, there we were, my brother, my dad, and I, on the news catching fish. Once the news crew packed up and left, we realized that this was going to air in our town and our teachers would realize we called in sick from school to go fishing... Long story short, this is an experience I don't think I will ever forget with my family.

My Last time of Camping was Cold Weather Survival Training at Ft. Greely. Sleeping under a tent half, at -40 killed the urge to ever go camping again.

It was September of 2017 and I packed up my two little monkeys (then ages 2 and 4) and headed out to Zion National Park; one of the most breathtaking places in the world! The trip was meant to distract all of us while the father of my kiddos moved out of the house, as we were in the middle of divorcing. What I expected to be a difficult and emotional weekend, ended up being the most joyful camping experience! Something about getting out into nature helped us all forget what was happening back home. This was their first time sleeping in a tent, first time roasting hotdogs over a fire, their first time hiking along the mighty Colorado river, and the moment they fell in love with the outdoors. By the end of the weekend, I felt like everything was going to be alright... better than alright actually... and I smile every single time I look at these pictures! (More pictures in the comments)

Thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2004 I had an interesting wildlife encounter. From my trail journal:
May 25 2004, Saltlog Gap Campsite, Southern Virginia

After an early thunderstorm little did I know that the morning excitement was just beginning. As I lay contemplating a late start to let things dry out, I heard the scuffling of a small animal outside my tent. I had brought my food bag in when the rain started so I assumed it was a racoon and yelled "Get lost!" in a loud voice. To my horror, a black and white streak disappeared into the shadows. I had yelled at a skunk!

I was feeling relieved that it had left when back it came. It clamped it's teeth on the door zipper, grabbing hold of a hiking boot inside as well. I gently pulled the boot away and it let go of the fabric only to scratch away at the wall and try to burrow under the floor.

"Please go away" I pleaded, to no avail. Soon it was starting under the floor. I carefully used the boot to shove it gently out again but it tried again. Again and again the skunk tried to get in, from every side; getting underneath, chewing at the door, clambering up the wall and gazing at me through the mesh. Meanwhile I fended it off as best I could, but never too forcefully lest it decide to spray me.

It became clear that it was not after my food or my boots and did not care that I was there, it just wanted IN! It would keep it up as long as the tent was there, so during a lull in the action I started packing. At first I followed my usual neat orderly packing but when it returned to chew at the door zipper and would not let go for anything I just threw things in willy-nilly. When the skunk let go to run around and try its luck on the tent rear I snuck out the door and brought out my pack. I turned to pull the stake for the front awning and start taking the tent down when behind me I heard a scuffling of fabric.

"Oh no" I moaned, "Not inside!"

Not exactly. When I looked in I saw a skunk-sized mound in the floor. While it was exploring the basement I gingerly reached over the wriggling mound and plucked out the last few items. Then I cautiously removed my trekking poles holding the tent up. Taking no chances, I picked up everything I had so far and carried it a prudent distance away. Then I went back to pull the stakes and ever so cautiously pulled the tent off the skunk. At first it seemed about to grab a stake loop before it got out of reach and play tug-of-war. But it noticed the groundsheet and started worrying and burrowing at that while I took the tent to my pack and stuffed it into its sack. Finally I went back and got the groundsheet. Only then did the skunk give up and shuffle into the underbrush. Worried that it might return, I grabbed my pack and dashed, not even stopping to adjust the trekking poles to the right length for walking until I was a quarter mile away.

How I escaped getting sprayed, I'll never know.

My dad grew up vacationing at Bass Lake with his family and when I was stationed at China Lake, him and I drove from China Lake to the north entrance of Yosemite, through the park and, to Bass Lake where we camped and hiked and fished for a few days. My dad shared memories and stories and we hiked one of his favorite trails. Getting to have that experience with my dad and him being able to share this place with me was the best and is a memory I will always cherish.

My 13R friend (you're only allowed one) and I after years of hoping and planning managed to get an opening weekend opportunity to hunt Fort Pickett in Virginia. Our first day was fantastic, saw a bunch of doe and got a good read on the area. Our second day started very early to get in before anyone else started moving around. It was mid teens cold when we got in the truck and as we pulled to the side of the road on the north side to start our hike into the woods, I saw a dog in my mirror almost glowing in the brake light and exhaust heat. At first I was startled, because seeing a white dog with a red glow in your mirror at 0300 in freezing temperatures will never make sense. I could see he had a tracking collar on and it was obvious that this was someone's hunting dog. He was a little skittish, but I managed to get him to let me wrap him up in an old jacket I had, and I found a name on his collar but no number. I googled the guys name thinking maybe he ran guided hunts or something and I might find a phone number, instead I found a news article about an 18 year old young man who had recently been killed in a car accident. The article identified the young man's parents as survived by relatives, you know like the obituary does. I poured some coffee and put considered whether or not to reach out not knowing how to address the situation. After getting the dog to eat the sandwich I brought and considering it was already daylight, I decided to search for the mother on Facebook, understanding that there ain't really a lot going on near Fort Pickett Virginia, I figured it was very likely that she had a profile. I found her page with a news article about her son's car accident and decided to message her my phone number and an explanation. 30 minutes or so later a man called me and explained that he was the father and that the young man's two dogs had gotten lose a few days prior and they had found one that was killed by a car. He was so excited to have the dog back that he immediately asked for directions and said he would come right away. As I explained where I was, the dad choked in "and that's where you found the dog"? Turned out the dog was likely waiting at the wood line where he and the deceased young man had hunted several times. I had long realized that my chances of hunting this particular day were shot, but maybe I could save the dog.

You can’t go wrong with Camping out at Trillium lake with Man’s best friend.

Trillium lake and view of Mt. Hood

I was in the Blueridge Mountains staying at a Cabin on the Skyline Drive. I awoke early in the morning and went out to gather some firewood. I'd been to this park a number of times and I know the especially in the fall, there are bears looking to eat anything to get ready for winter. I experienced a momma bear and two cups a few years earlier taking over my campsite so bears were on my mind. As a gather wood, I heard a noise just over my shoulder, a quick glance of brown fur was enough to get me moving. I heard the distinct thud of heavy paws hitting the ground behind me. Would I make it to the cabin? I just kept moving as the thuds grew louder and closer. As I reached for the door, he was on me. Yep, attacked but the largest St. Bernard pup I'd ever seen... licked to death and he took a piece of my firewood.

When I was 10 we where camping in a national park and I would sleep outside off the ground on a camping cot. During the time we stayed I befriended a family of skunks, they actually became so comfortable with me that one morning I was awaken by my mom whisper screaming at me to not move! I wondered why she was so excited but trying to control herself she had a look of utter horror on her face. She was frantically telling me as quietly as she could that I had a family of skunks sleeping on me, to which I replied oh yeah that's George and his family there is Mama, George jr., little Georgie, and Greg. (I had named them all after the old Bugs Bunny cartoons) I told her they where my friends and proceeded to pet them, Mom was shocked and couldn't believe that wild skunks where behaving this way. The Skunks came back each night to sleep with me until we packed up to leave.