Grew up in Oregon and Alaska tagging along on my fathers elk, deer, bear and moose hunts until I was 14. The only shooting I did was ducks. Sports got in the way of hunting (never again) after I was fourteen and did not hunt again until I was 33. My first time carrying a rife was when I went on a guided elk hunt in BC. My father who has elk hunted all his life said that it was the hardest hunting you can do - up and down ridges, packing meat out, up hill both ways in a blizzard, etc.
All that to say my father was up and hunting on this guided trip with the "good guide" and I slept in because my out of work logger guide was late. He shows up at nine that morning hung over and smoking cigarettes, and says lets go. We go out to the middle of a mowed pasture and the guide lights a cigarette and bugles - there is smoke coming out of the end of his bugle! Three minutes later a big 5x5 comes out at 100 yards - I get my sticks out but can't see. What seems like ten minutes later I discover that my heavy breathing had fogged the 1979 Bushnell scope up. I wipe them clean with my shirt sleeve and get ready to shoot again and the guide said, don't shoot, it has to be a 6x6. Granted, we are in the middle of a pasture frozen still, I am on my sticks shaking and my guide is still smoking cheap Canadian cigarettes. Not ten seconds later the 5x5 looks left and runs back into the woods. Ten more seconds go by and a big 6x6 bull comes out and stands broadside looking at us. Guide said shoot, I shot, down he went. We went back to the truck, drove out into the field, loaded him up and went back to the cabin. He only scored 304 but made Safari Club record book for that area. Come on dad, this elk hunting is easy!
Needless to say, I have been on several hunts since then and have eaten my words.
Fast forward to today - 2 elk (1 was unit 23 early rifle), 2 antelope, a N.M Oryx, one black bear and several antelope. Now there is nothing better in my life than to help by sons get out and hunt.