The image is supposed to be me! My legs aren't skinny though. I started backpacking in March of 1996. I really wanted to get to know the sport so I decided to get some experience on the Appalachian Trail. I did get about 340 miles see journal AT Trail Journal 1996 before my body had decided that enough was enough for a while. I am interested in contacting other backpackers, hikers and all-around-bipeds that would like to shoot-the-bull about the sport. I learned a lot about long distance hiking...i.e. you must walk for a long way before you are finished. I also learned some of the nuances of backpacking i.e. leave the kitchen sink at home, even a few ounces shaved off pack weight will make the difference, snack often, drink a lot of water and pack plenty of Snickers bars.

I guess that one of my earliest memories of the water was that of my weekly dives into the undersea world of Lloyd Bridges and Sea Hunt. I remember how he would talk about the deep diving and many hazards of the sport. Of course hardly any safety issues were discussed. It was always how DANGEROUS and MACHO it was to strap on a tank and flip backwards into a world of creatures just waiting to eat him up. I never thought that I would ever actually get to do what he did, but I always kept the dream alive. I learned to dive back in 1981 when scuba was just beginning to hit big with the recreational sport enthusiasts. Most of my diving was limited to Destin, Florida and I would go out with a co-worker on his boat. We would devote at least one dive to working the sandy bottom for sandollars to pay for equipment, beer and fuel. The second dive was for sport. Spearfishing and sightseeing were the most popular choices, but we would visit some of the more popular dive holes, after the dive charter boats left and salvaged much of the lost gear from inexperienced or panicked divers. I did all this and I hadn't had more than about 15 or 20 dives myself. I guess that I owed most of my experience to my first dive buddy, Bill Larsen of Fort Walton Beach, FL. He was the one who gave me the chance to dive often. He had been diving for about 10 or 15 years before me so it was like a master and student relationship. Bill was the one who put the recently acquired 'Jaws' syndrome out of my head. I had a real fear of sharks before and very certainly after that movie. He convinced me so well that sharks are not the man eaters that the stupid movie portrayed that one day while we were diving for sandollars, I came up early and the boatwatch's 12 year old daughter had hooked a medium sized hammerhead and the line was stretched over my back. I asked what they had on and of course she replied "a big shark!" I responded "oh" and calmly put my mask on and politely asked them to stop throwing the chum on me 8^). I then calmly removed my ripe smelling carcass from harms way. Well that was my earliest experience. I later moved to the Virgin Islands and led a very happy clear water, reef laden, Saturday morning beach dive lifestyle and lived happily for the 3 years more.