Some of my best memories with Dad are from camping trips. He'd get me to jump off cliffs, float through rapids, ride motorcycles and tromp around the woods as if there was nothing to be afraid of. Like the time we floated the Nisqually from Eatonville to McKenna. Here's the gist - 4 people, 3 innertubes (Dad popped his as soon as Mom dropped us off), a cooler of beer and almost 12 hours of rapids, trees in the water and nightfall before I refused to get back in the water. Dad and Nick walk up to a riverfront shack only to be greeted by an old man in overalls wielding a rifle. He was calm the whole day and I was fearing for my life. It took a lot to rattle him and overall I always knew I was safe with him. He also new I liked to find my own place and just observe nature and he said it was good. He new about my "secret" spots on the Tilton and at Indian Hole and my favorite tree in Gig Harbor. I always found a place of my own and he always discovered it. He even let me be a little snobby by taking me fishing but never making me kill or touch the fish, even as an adult. He encouraged me to be myself and push myself a little. Love you forever Dad.