We walked up and down enormous hills, through swamps and low laying trees. By the time we reached the stream it was 9 am, and about 85 degrees. We found a spot on some slimy rocks, hooked the mice we had for bait to our poles, and cast them into the swiftly moving stream. For about 45 minutes there was no action. I had a few bites here and there, but it was never anything bigger than a sunny. It wasn't until about an hour later that I got my big surprise. All of a sudden I felt an enormous tug on my line and as I tried to pull it back, it pulled my small helpless body in. It all happened so fast that I didn't really have time to realize what was going on, but the next thing I knew I was floating down stream, my pole not within my reach, and my grandfather running along side me onshore.
Finally I had a chance to grab onto a branch that was hanging so low it almost cut my head off. Before I knew it, my grandfather swiftly jumped into the stream, grabbed my by my shirt and pulled me safely back to shore. That was the end of our fishing trip.
That night in the tent was utterly petrifying. After a small snack at about 9 pm we both decided to hit the sack. As I laid there listening to my grandfather's horrendous snore, all I could think about was how thin the tent was that I was laying on, and how many different kinds of species were probably going to attack me at any moment. Then .there was a noise. Something was outside of the tent, and I had no idea what it .
was. I heard it rustling about through the grill and the pots and pans we had left outside. The noise lasted for about five minutes, and then it was pure silence. Sure enough the noise started up again, only this time it sounded closer to the tent! I finally worked up enough .
courage to peak my curious 8 year old head out the door, and there stood a massive, snarling, black grizzly bear. Right as I looked at him, he turned his head and stared right back into my eyes.
