Beaver Creek

The sound of pages ripping as my brother tares the road atlas out my hands, and the squeaking brakes of the trailer as my Mom pulls off the road. My Mom scolding me and my brother, "Stop fighting and give me the map, now where are we?"
"We're right here," as I point to a spot past our right turn off the highway, "I think thats where we are anyway." Then getting a glare from my brother as if saying 'I would've done better.' This was the start of the best bear hunting weekend ever.