I have learned many things from him. I learned how to ride a bike, how to drive and many other things from him. .
He always took me and my brother on an outing. Once, during summer he took us deep into the depth Sierra Nevada. That vacation was one of my best vacations. I always hated the fact that my brother and my uncle were better and more fisherman than I was resulting in that they would catch the bigger and most beautiful fish and each came home with twice the fish I had caught.
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This is how it all began. It was the last day of our school and I came rushing home. The next day we packed are bags, grabbed our fishing poles, loaded the camper and were on are way. Our drive lasted for four very long hours before we got to the Post pile campground. We hitched are camp and made ourselves right at home knowing we would be there for a while. We couldn't ask for better weather, the sun was blazing and the temperature was an awesome 85 degrees for fishing the San Joaquin river. We found ourselves the trail that lead to the post pile, twisting and turning along the green, damp trial until we came upon a sight that every human being should lay their eyes on, Devils Post pile. Enormous rocks all rubbing against one another scalling the sky. Jumping my way close to the river, as I drifted away from everyone else, knowing I was going to catch the mother of all fish in this sacred river. Competing with my uncle and brother, I definitely wasn't going to let them outdo this modern day Tom Sawyer. I hacked along river for a while, wiping the sweat off my face every other minute, only to find nothing but sheer cliffs and there was no possible fishing hole in sight. All I could see was a river about seventy to eighty feet below with one very big obstacle in the way jagged rocks were surrounding me from the river as I just kept on stumbling along. Soon I spotted what was going to be my home for the next hour or so, an old dead tree lying in the middle of the river, just where the cliffs had seemed to vanish.
