Funny how hunting can become a tradition.
My dad was taught hunting by a family friend that I always called an uncle.
One of the guys on this trip was my deceased brother's best friend in kindergarten.
His name is Cory, and he started hunting with my youngest brother back around around 1988 /89

Since about 1991 or 92 a group of us go every year to a place called Pink Mountain (mile 148 on the Alaska highway)
The core group is 8 guys, with some years only 3 or 4 making it, other years all of us make it.
It is always a good time, last year because of the fires in the Pink Mountain region we went somewhere closer to home.
Didn't matter we still had a blast.

Growing up some of my favorite memories are hunting with my 2 brothers, my uncle and my dad.

One of my happiest days was when we got my nephew and a long time friend their first deer, both on the same day