I learned a valuable lesson about impassible barriers as I took my young son for one of his first hikes. We were living at the south end of Round Valley, near Laketown, Utah. Leading into the high country, there were several well defined game trials that ran in back of the home we rented. The lower trails were flanked by tall thick grass that ranged from twelve to eighteen inches high along the path.

My son was still a toddler and I thought one of these game trails was an excellent place to set him down to let him follow me. I did just that and walked a ways. He was following me just fine so, at this point, I decided to sneak off in front of him. I waited to see what he would do. At first he seemed just fine. He walked along looking at things, just as happy as a toddler could be. I walked further out in front. Then all of a sudden he let out a scream. I dashed back to see what the problem was.

He was just standing in the middle of the trail with his arms reaching up toward me. It was clear he wanted me to pick him up and carry him. I wanted him to keep going on his own, so I told him, while motioning him, to come on and follow daddy. He would not move one inch forward and kept whining and reaching for me. All my beckoning wasn’t about to move him. I looked and tried to figure out the issue. There didn’t appear to be one to me. Things looked just fine.

I decided to get down on his level to see if I could find anything that would cause him to stop and ask for help. At first there appeared to be nothing, then I saw it. It was right there about chest high on him. I was astounded that this thing was his impassible barrier. It was one thin, lone stalk of dead grass leaning across his path.

It was then I realized that the problem here was simple inexperience and that I needed to teach him that this situation was not the impassible barrier he saw it as. I took his little hand and pulled him forward as he, with considerable fear, resisted me. I overpowered him and as he moved forward the stalk of grass yielded as it drug across his chest.

Once through, I let him go and walked slowly forward with one eye on him. He stopped, walked back to that stalk of grass and slapped at it several times, making it move to his touch. He then gave a shrug of his shoulders and he was off following me again.

We went on many hikes over the years. From that time forward he was more the explorer than fearful child. Helping him face his fear was the best thing I could have done. He learned he didn’t have to be afraid of something just because it was unknown.

There have been several occasions in my life where I or others have been faced with what appear to be impassible barriers. I just think back to this experience and remember that a closer look most often reveals those barriers to be more perceived than real.

Read more at The Outdoors Dad

In the spring of 1980 my first born was a year and a half old. He was named after me and we called him Little Paul. It was time to take him fishing. I wanted my son to love the outdoors and be an outdoorsman. We had taken him fishing and camping numerous times since his birth, but this fishing trip was just for him. I wanted him to catch his very first fish, feel the thrill of the tug, and reel it in.

To start this adventure I figured digging some worms was a great first lesson. I took him to a spot in the garden where I knew there would be worms. I didn’t want him reaching for worms and getting hurt as I was putting the shovel into the dirt so I sat him where he was out of reach of the turned over clods. I put a #10 can in front of him and explained his job was to pick up the worms I tossed in front of him and put them in the can. It was a simple enough task for an 18 month old and in the doing he could see he was part of the process and was helping.

It took me showing him several times before he fully understood what I wanted him to do. As with most people, Little Paul began to do it his own way. At first I was frustrated as he took the can of worms and dumped them out in the spot where I had been tossing them. I explained the process to him several more times but he insisted in dumping the worms out.

As my curiosity overtook my frustration I just let him do whatever he was going to do and see what he was up to. It became very apparent that he had decided that the way I was digging worms was not the correct way. The thing I had been missing was the fact that each worm needed to be tensile tested before being accepted and placed in the can.

I was trying not to lose it laughing as I watched him take each worm, one end in one hand, the other end in the other hand, and begin to stretch. If by some chance the worm survived this test of little Paul’s he deemed it worthy to be put into the can. However, if the worm broke into two halves Little Paul simply threw the broken worm in a two handed motion over his shoulders so that it landed somewhere behind him.

I had never had such fun digging worms; we took so long “diggin’” worms that we didn’t have much fishing time. We got to the small lake near Randolph, Utah with maybe only about a half hour to fish. Little Paul had watched me catch fish many times…a fact that I had never considered until a few minutes after we threw in his line. Little Paul got a bite, the tip of the pole dipped, and he set the hook.

I could tell he had been observing me closer than I had thought because when the pole dipped and he set the hook it was with all the might and furry one would use to set the hook on a much larger fish. The poor fish, about 10-11 inches in length, flew around two feet into the air before the hook was pulled out of his mouth and it splashed back into the lake. Little Paul then dropped the pole and gave me a look that said, “Why did you let my fish get away?”

Most of the best things in life are unplanned and unconsidered. When I count the really great times in my life and great times outdoors “Diggin’ Worms” that day with Little Paul is one of the Best. Remembering always brings a smile.

Read more at The Outdoors Dad

As far back as I can recall my dad was taking me out fishing, on hikes, hunting, and many other outdoor activities.

Many of my most cherished memories come form time I have spent outdoors with my father and family. Also many of the lessons I learned came from experiences I had while enjoying the wonders of the great outdoors. Most of the stories I share will be from the many fishing and hunting trips we went on over the years. The first of these (below) was the day that taught me dad really knew what he was talking about.

One day while being carried away by the current of the Bear River I learned that my dad really does know best.

It all stared on one of our regular fishing trips to the Bear River. At the time we lived in Evanston, Wyoming and it was easy to take a quick trip over to the Bear River after my dad got off work.

We were having a great time fishing but hadn’t caught any fish yet this particular day. We thought we were going home skunked. I was working the river up stream from my father when my line got snagged. After several attempts to get the line free I decided to wade out to the middle of the river to free my line. What could go wrong? It seemed a simple enough task. I had seen experienced fishermen do the same. However, it was a big river with a strong current and I was a young boy around the age of nine.

As I waded out in the river my father yelled up to me, “Son don’t do that, you will get swept down stream.” I thought to myself, “Dad you don’t know what you’re talking about…I will be fine. It’s just a little water.” As I proceeded into the middle of the river, my dad proceeded to tell me not to do it, and I proceeded not to listen. Suddenly I felt the strangest thing. My feet were being taken off the ground and I was being pulled down scream. The water at this point was far too deep for me to touch the bottom and in a state of panic I let go of the fishing Pole. I started to work my way towards shore and upon reaching it my dad grabbed me out of the water. I was lucky all that really happened was I got a little scared and wet. He reiterated that what I had done was not a good idea. This time I believed him…too late. We followed the river bank down looking for the pole but never retrieved it.

At home several hours later I sat and thought to my self, “Wow, my dad really dose know best!” Remembering this lesson has paid off many other times in my life. On one fishing trip to a river in Louisiana we were sitting just below a dam. My father was about ten feet away from me when I saw a fish that was roughly three feet long. It was just right there, in the calm slow pools at the bank of the river. I walked extremely close to the fish, hovering over it. The fish didn’t seem bothered by me so I decided I was going to catch the fish with my hands. I had done it before and thought it was just another big fish.

As I reached out to catch the fish my dad yelled out to me not to go for the fish! As competitive as we can be about catching fish I could have though, “He just wants this thing for himself.” However, I pause and remembered, dad knows best. I backed out of my plan. When I asked dad why I shouldn’t have tried to catch the fish he said it was an alligator gar. Alligator gars have razor sharp teeth and scales.

It would have torn me up. That was one of the many times I was glad I listened to my dad.

Read more at The Outdoors Dad