As I stood in front of Spangler’s Woods, and stared across the field where Pickett’s Charge took place, I could hear the crunch of earth beneath my feet.  I could see the smoke covering the field – a product of the morning’s intense artillery blasts from both sides.  I could feel the weight of my rifle, and the adrenaline and terror shooting through my veins with each step.  I could hear and see the muskets being fired near the copse of trees, and could sense the presence of men firing from near The Angle.

On Little Round Top, as I looked out toward Devil’s Den past the monument to the 16th Michigan, I could almost see the Texans and Alabamans making their way towards the summit.  I could feel the heat and humidity, and hear the sharpshooter’s bullets piercing the air as they passed within range.  I could feel the pressure mounting as I began to run low on ammunition, and could feel the immediate despair when I knew the position might not be able to be held.

In the Soldiers National Cemetery, standing near the Soldiers National Monument, I could faintly hear the words:  “Four score and seven years ago………….we cannot dedicate – we cannot consecrate – we cannot hallow this ground……that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, for the people, by the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

It was an amazing experience – a life changing experience.

Visiting the Gettysburg battlefield was better than any of my expectations.  Being able to walk and stand on the ground where such an important battle in our nation’s history took place – and, even more importantly, stand in the area where Lincoln delivered his immortal words – in order to set a people free – was incredible.

The entire town has an amazing feel to it, and definitely was witness to a pivotal moment in the survival of our nation as we know it today.  If the Gettysburg battle had not turned out the way that it did, our country could be much different – much, much different.

I am a different person after being able to stand on such hallowed ground – and I am very grateful to all of those men – Confederate and Union – who fought and who gave their lives in order to define and shape a country into what it is today.

Standing on such hallowed ground helps us to not forget – and may we never do so.

Last week my wife, Abby, some of the wife’s family, and myself took a weeks vacation to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.  All of you who read this blog know about my fascination with the Civil War, and after my trip to Shiloh a few years ago, I knew I had to visit Gettysburg as well – and it didn’t disappoint.

We visited the battlefield, took in the town a little, visited Washington, D.C. and just had a great time.  We stayed in a private campground near Gettysburg, and we loved spending the time outdoors, although the sweltering heat and humidity did make it a challenge at times.

We had an incredible week, and once I get things back in order around the homestead, you can be sure that you’ll see a few posts about our experiences in Washington, Virginia, Maryland, and most important of all, a little town in Pennsylvania.

It was incredible.

Hopefully, while I was gone, you took in Matt’s post about his first fishing experience in Hawaii.  It sounds like it was one heck of an experience.

WTF?

A beer can.  And another beer can.  I hate trash!

It amazes me as to how little respect some people have for their natural resources.   Apparently, since they don’t take their mom with them everywhere they go, they don’t know enough to pick up after themselves.  And with their lack of respect for such a pristine stretch of river, I can only imagine what their home or vehicle looks like.  It has gotten to the point that I have started to carry a plastic bag in my backpack, just for such an occasion.  But, honestly, some of the things I’ve seen wouldn’t even fit in my backpack; there was that much trash.

It sickens me.

I truly do not understand not picking up after yourself, whether it be on a pristine waterway such as the Pere Marquette, your favorite local fishing lake, or your favorite hunting spot.  Just pick up after yourself!

I always have trash in my backpack, whether it’s picked up while walking the trail or it’s my own from the day’s packed lunch and/or snack.  And my tackle box was a mess for quite some time, because of some leftover fishing line that I had put inside it; I didn’t want it to get caught up on some unsuspecting waterfowl, or person for that matter (If you don’t think it can happen, check this out).

So, please, if you’re one of them, try picking up after yourself.

And, even if you don’t leave your trash lying around, do your favorite outdoor place a favor and pick up what you can while you’re there.

Sometimes we just have to be other people’s parents.

The day trip was planned to consist of a hike and some fishing. No big deal, right? I’ve been on plenty of hikes and logged hundreds of hours with a rod and reel in my hand. Not quite! This was a fishing experience like I’ve never had before. We started our journey by hiking  3 miles along the coast to our fishing spot. Along the way we did some “whipping” which is the term used  for casting or whipping your lure out off the edge of the coast and retrieving it at a fairly high rate of speed. You usually won’t hook into any giants by any means, but you can catch some wahanui like I did. I managed to land two on our hike into the spot. One got thrown back and the smaller one was taken as bait for our next fishing tactic. Wahanui reminded me of a largemouth bass in looks, but with a little different colorization. There were several other hookups along the way; however,  it is tough to not only hook a fish, but bring it up the edge of the cliffs without losing it.

After taking in all the scenery and enjoying some fishing on the way in, we finally arrived at the spot. I was in awe. With the beautiful view of Mauna Loa behind us and the vast Pacific Ocean in front of us, this place was surreal. It was cool to realize that this was truly a rare place on this earth. Where else can you hike across 3 miles of hardened lava and still enjoy such beauty all around you? And, to top it all off, the weather was absolutely gorgeous.

Well, now that we had arrived, I was in for the treat of learning about “sliding”. Sliding is where you take a bigger pole and cast the line out with nothing but a lead weight on it. You let the weight get snagged on the bottom and then you slide additional small lines with your bait on them down the line. When a fish is hooked it will basically break off the line that has the lead weight and allow you to fight and bring in the fish without the hassle of the weight too. It is also best to attach a bell to your rod to notify you of any strikes. It was a completely new concept for me, but made sense for dealing with the conditions of the surf and the depth that you are trying to get down too. We set our sliders up with some white eel and the small wahanui. After setting up the sliders, I jumped right back into whipping and managed to snatch a nenue, which looks like a giant bluegill. We added this to one of the slider setups as an additional meal for a larger gamefish. I did not manage to take a pic of the nenue, but just imagine a bluegill on steroids.

After several hours of whipping and several false alarms from the slider rod we finally got some action on one of the sliders. The bell started going crazy and then all of a sudden stopped. The line and the rod seemed to be greatly relaxed so we decided to check it out and see what was going on. After reeling the setup in we were stunned to see that the nenue (which was not tiny) had been bitten completely in half and the piece of white eel was gone. To top it off, the steel leaders that were used to slide the bait down had been mangled and twisted together as if they were pieces of yarn! After seeing the evidence of power we knew that whatever had decided to grab our bait was no small fish. It was definitely exciting!

During the afternoon, while hanging around our spot, I did manage to land several of these guys. Apparently they are equivalent to a sucker fish or carp. So, why did I even mention the catch? Ah, glad you asked. These little guys make quite an interesting sound which I was unaware of. So, after catching the first one and trying to remove the hook from him, I first noticed that the little guy had an amazing set of teeth. His mouth was very small, but the teeth quickly caught my attention. Secondly, I was abruptly introduced to the loud chattering sound these guys make. I will be perfectly honest here. Between the teeth and the chattering sound, I was a little intimated by this 10-12 inch fish. It was quite the experience for me!

As our fishing time was coming to a close we decided to take a little swim on this tiny remote black sand beach. After spend most of the morning and afternoon in the hot sun, it was a great way to cool off. Of course as soon as we decided to take a dip the cloud cover did roll in, but it was a great way to re-energize for the 3 mile hike back out.

We did manage one other spectacular tidbit on our hike out. We managed to discover a natural spring that was merely feet from the ocean. It was down in a large crack in the hardened lava and was completely shut out from the saltwater. It was epic! It was the highlight of the day and allowed us to take a dip in the cool water and rinse off all of the saltwater from swimming earlier. Just as a sidenote, I will not divulge any information pertaining to the location of the spring!

Well, I can honestly say that I was truly impressed with my first island adventure. Thanks to Paul McCarty (a former Michigander) and his son Kaikoa for taking me on this amazing trip. It was a long day, but worth every ounce of energy. I thoroughly enjoyed every second. Who knows whats in store next? I can’t wait!

But, even though all of us completely remember how great his season was, and because Justin is the complete jerk that he is, he likes to send pictures months after the season in order to continue to rub it in.

The picture in this post is of the mount he just got back recently; it is the bigger of the bucks he took last year.

It’s a great buck, and I hope all you enjoy its beauty.  For me, personally, I’ve seen enough of it:)

It’s always interesting to see what triggers the senses and summons that primal hunting urge within.  The corn stalks glistening in the morning sun caught my eye this morning, as well as the morning sun’s reflection on the tractor as it slowly made its way through the field, cutting this year’s wheat harvest.

I immediately began to drift away for a moment – the car on autopilot – and thought about the number of deer that could be using that corn as safe harbor.   I thought about how it would look as the majestic buck stepped out of the field edge and into the newly cut wheat field, his antlers glistening against the morning sun. For a split second, I could feel the crisp, fall air pressing against my face; the warmth of the sun as it rose to start the new day; the call of the geese as they moved overhead in their yearly migration; a pheasant cackling from its grassy home; a crane breaking the morning silence; the snap of a twig signaling an animal’s approach; and the smell of fall wetting the hunting instincts within.

I was in a hunter’s heaven.

Then, unfortunately, reality settled back in and I began to focus again on the road visible through the windshield, and realized that hunting would have to wait.

While I love fishing, and don’t mind the summer whatsoever, there is still something very different about hunting season, especially when it’s in the fall.

Nature will always call me to fish, to camp, and to play outside with little Abby.  But hunting stirs something deep within.  It’s different – and it beckons me, even on these hot, humid, dog days of summer.

It’s primal.

It’s perfect.

And, though hunting is only around for a few months out of the year, it lives with us always.  It’s part of who we are, no matter what time of the year it is.

And, Mike, my fellow Michigan hunting blog friend and bear hunter, you and your brothers might want to look out; it appears that the bears are learning!:):)

If you want to see another pic of this bear in a treestand, head on over to Tom Remington’s Black Bear Blog, and read this post.  Too crazy!

Early on the fishing was very slow, and picking our way through the multitude of “fishing spots” was a task in itself.  Houghton is approximately 7 ½ miles long and 4 ½ miles wide, so trying to find the “spot” on this gargantuan of a lake was a crap shoot at best – even my pre-fish “scouting” didn’t seem to help.  And with the beautiful sunset that greeted us that morning a thing of the past, frustration was starting to set in.

Houghton is very shallow and has the grand daddy of all weed beds.  I seriously don’t think I’ve ever seen a weed bed that dense, that thick, that shallow, or that big; it was quite a monstrosity and definitely threw all of us for a loop.   We tried our luck at fishing the drop-offs on the edge of it, but after they only produced one small pike and one huge lost fish, which we can only dream as to how big it really was, we were seriously thinking of throwing in the towel.

Thankfully we all have cell phones.

After 3 hours of slow, slow, slow fishing, Jeff finally dialed us up on the cell phone and let us in on a little secret he had found.  Apparently, after talking with a local old timer who was fishing on the lake, Jeff, along with his son, Tyler, had found a honey hole for walleye.  And, though it was another family fishing tournament, Jeff was still nice enough to share this information and let us in on the secret.

We sped across the choppy water – I’m still sore from a couple of the “bumps” we hit – and headed for the walleye Holy Grail.  Though Jeff and Tyler were using soft tail jigs, I dug through the tackle box and located the rig I sought:  one of the walleye rigs that we used when we were fishing on Lake Erie.  Now, normally, these rigs call for a real night crawler, but not having any of those in the boat, it was time to get crafty – and that is when I remembered that I had some Gulp brand night crawlers in the tackle box, and it was about time they actually caught something.

With the boat positioned parallel to the “run” we wanted to fish, I dropped the rig over the side of the boat, letting it hit bottom before jigging it up and down in the hopes of a strike; it didn’t take two casts before I had a decent little walleye on board; my first fish of the day.  Sweet!  If at first you don’t succeed, keep trying.

The rest of our first drift produced a fish for my cousin, Randy, but didn’t produce anymore fish for me.  After motoring back to the top of the drift, though, I meticulously jigged the rod up and down – slowly and easily – in the hopes of putting the first keeper of the day in the boat and increasing our odds of winning this “tournament”.

Finally, I felt a nice little tug on the line and set the hook.  It was quite a fight, because, not only did I have to fight the fish and the weeds, but I also had to fight the quick drift of the boat – the winds were horrible out on the water.  After a couple minutes of battle, I brought the 15 ½ inch walleye onto the boat – and, since there was only about 20 minutes left in the tournament, I figured this fish was the one that would take home the prize.

But, I forgot I was fishing against Jeff.

Right on cue, and not 5 minutes after landing my fish, I happen to glance over and notice Jeff’s rod bending like crazy.  I started to wish that he only had weeds, but after watching the 17 ½ inch, 2 ½lb largemouth make it to the net, I knew our chances of victory were over.  Obviously, Jeff was going to take home the money.

The trip was worth every penny we had to pay, though.  For one, it proved that you can teach an old dog new tricks – I caught my first walleye actually using a rig and method that is meant to do so, and Jeff caught his first walleye; it only took him 38 years to do it!

It was a great time after a work-filled week.  And, though I lost another tournament to the fish whisperer himself, I still have another walleye fillet to add to the grill.

Yum!

But like a noose around a new hunter or fishermen’s neck, I fear all the laws and regulations contained within these guides have the potential to hinder a person’s willingness to start hunting and/or fishing.  Considering these new recruits already have a myriad of things to remember – when to shoot, what to shoot, what to wear, what bait to use, where to fish, etc. – expecting them to be able to pick through a bucket full of regulations and requirements certainly could be viewed as a very daunting task, and could send a possible new hunter/fisherman back from where he came from in a hurry.

Also, some of these laws not only have the potential to send a new recruit packing, but they also have the potential to send an established hunter searching for another activity as well.  With so many laws and regulations to remember, it doesn’t take much for a law-abiding person to overlook a minor infraction (don’t even get me started about Michigan’s law that you have to have your bow in a case), and get hit with a hefty fine or worse.

I’m a law-abiding kind of guy, and I will never purposely break any law (okay, maybe I speed), but I will definitely vocalize my opinion when I come across what I believe to be bogus law (did I mention that you have to have your bow in a case, yet?).  However, I do believe some laws and regulations are needed in order to protect our natural resources, and in order to help protect the actual animals we seek.  But more often than not these particular laws are put on the books because of an isolated incident involving a small subset of the hunting population – punishing the many, because of the few.   Or worse, these laws are put on the books because of pressure from many environmental and anti-hunting groups who are helping their agenda – eliminating hunting and fishing – by pressuring their local legislator to pass “common sense” regulations.

Hunting and fishing regulations have completely gotten out of control, and it doesn’t take much to find a law that simply doesn’t make sense – the Sunday hunting ban in many states, for instance.  With laws such as these on the books, and with these types of regulations getting more and more complicated, I fear many people will step away from the bureaucratic mess that is the majority of hunting/fishing regulations, and not even try to decipher them whatsoever.

In the last few years, there has been a steady decline in the number of people who hunt and fish, and all of us do what we can to get young people involved in the outdoors.  But, as important as that particular task is, I believe that the sheer  number and complexity of today’s hunting and fishing regulations are just as much a threat to our chosen lifestyles as video games and laziness.