I grew up in Covina, Calif. , back when there were still vacant fields and creative kids running the streets for lack of indoor entertainment. Don't know if you could have considered it a small town back then due to it's proximity to LA. , but I guess you could consider us on the outskirts. Our home was faceing the San Gabriel Mountains so we usually had a great view unless the smog had its way. My Dad had to support us nine kids on an eighth grade education which meant he took no time for vacations or camping. I can only remember the 2 of us fishing together only once, but I don't blame him one bit cause the other 8 were a real handful. I Love you Dad & Mom. My older brother seem to have all the fun in the outdoor department and occasionally took me fishing. He ended up in the Airforce somewhere over in Turkey so I ended up making my own adventures. I ran away to the mountains once, but after I ate my p&j sand I came back, about 4 hours later. I would sometimes take the bus for a quarter over to San Dimas and hike a mile or so to the Puddingstone resivoir to fish before I needed a license. Of course I was only about 9 and had to have my older sister tag along. Then I was able to take my younger sister until we had to hike to a better fishing spot halfway around the lake, I think she got discouraged. When I was 16 is when it really started. My older Brother took me on my first week long backpacking trip in the High Sierra's. I can still remember being just totally blown away on how vast everything was up there at 10,000 ft. Since then I've usually been able to take a trip at least one week a year in the Sierra's and it's something I hope I am able to do for the rest of my life..Dang, talk about spilling my guts.