Conquering Everest

I had barely caught my breath from plummeting down a massive hill when I opened my eyes to see that the track in front of me had been destroyed. I nearly pushed a hole in the floor beneath my feet in a feeble attempt to stop the vehicle from jumping off the side of the mountain. Just before jumping into oblivion, the vehicle stopped – along with my heart! I had just enough time to make one of those “God-deals.” You know, one of those deals where I promised God that if he would get me off this ride alive, I’d be a better person. As quickly as I could make the deal and begin to suck all available oxygen to re-inflate my lungs, the roller coaster started its decent, only backwards this time, toward the hard asphalt hundreds of feet below. I tried to think of scripture to comfort me, and all that would come to mind was, “My God, My God why hast thou forsaken me.”

When we had finally finished the ride, I tried to regain my composure. As I sat there my color began to come back as my vital organs decided to spare the blood it had so recently stockpiled. I checked and quickly realized that I had not soiled my britches and I began to shake out my stiffened arms that had been placed under extreme stress from gripping the handrails. I limped away with my chest stuck out, thinking, “I’m one bad dude.” I believe I was even able to muster up the broken words to my son, “You see, boy, that wasn’t all that bad was it!”

I don’t do roller coasters and I’m afraid of heights. Get me above my 15’ deer stand with safety harness and I’m out of my element. Riding this roller coaster was totally out of my character. Having said that, you may be asking, “Why did you do it then?” Well, I told my son, Cade (pictured above) on our recent vacation to Disney World that if he would ride Disney’s new roller coaster, “Everest,” then I would too. By now you already know what his horrific answer was.

When the feeling came back to my body and I reflected on what had just happened, I was so proud that I had done it. Had it not been for my son, you would have never gotten me near that roller coaster. It was totally out of my character and way out of my comfort zone. Because of my son, I was able to experience “Everest” and subsequently enjoy many of Disney’s other adventurous rides on our vacation.

We all have our own “Everest’s.” I surely have many, the least of which is a roller coaster. For many Christians, a major Everest to conquer is the fear of sharing your faith with an unbeliever. It’s also more difficult for some to step away from the familiarity of home and venture to a place far away where things are different and tell others about Jesus. Just like my son, who helped me overcome some recent roller coaster fears, there is another “son” that helps us ascend these mighty Everests in our lives. This August, 15 of our HOS fellas are facing these two fears head on and venturing to Alaska to share the Good News of Jesus. It’s the 2nd Annual HOS mission trip, the first mission trip ever for many of the guys. Our hope is that others will come to know the hope and love found in Christ and we as men will continue to discover the life of adventure and thrills that come with a life with the “son.”



"The one who has the Son has life. The one who doesn’t have the Son of God does not have life. I have written these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life."
1 John 5:13-13

Snow Bird Trout Camp

Deep in the heart of Nantahalah National Forest light gave way to darkness as night fell on the Heart of a Sportsman fishing camp. As the temperature dropped you could literally hear the music from the movie Deliverance being plucked out on a banjo by our buddy (and comedian) Bruce LaRue. There we were (Mark Ridenhour, Shane Brock, Kevin Simon, Nick Jones, Bruce LaRue and me) sitting by the campfire warming our hands on the first ever HOS Trout Fishing Adventure Trip along Snow Bird Creek. And it was just that: an ADVENTURE. Colder than anticipated temperatures, rain on the first day, hard to find camp sites, blown out tires, monster trout, improvising to cook (because someone forgot to bring the cooking stuff), leaky waders, slipping on rocks and falling in the stream, and meeting some really cool folks made for an interesting time to say the least.

We caught lots of trout and some were enormous. Mark and Shane literally put on a fishing clinic on Friday evening and Saturday morning. We definitely ate better because of them. After a morning of hard fishing on Saturday we were returning to camp for lunch and a tire blew out on LaRue’s vehicle, right there in the middle of Wilderness, USA. We knew that we had to get something done, because we had rough roads to cross, a 4-hour drive home, and tomorrow was Sunday and nothing would be open. Bruce and I set out for town and quickly found out that everything shuts down after lunch on Saturday in Graham County. We limped into town and found a place called Ellers Service Station. The mechanic looked everywhere, made calls and tried everything he could to find the right size tire but to no avail. Now, we were on our way on the “doughnut tire” through the mountains to another town nearly 40 minutes away. I’ll admit I was a little worried, especially when the axle started making this crazy banging noise every half mile. We decided to turn around and eventually found our way back to Ellers on our literal last leg. Thankfully the store was still open and a quest was started by the mechanics to get us back on track. Here’s where the story takes an unusual twist. We were desperate. Vulnerable. Between a rock and a hard spot you might say. The mechanic knew this and we held our breath as we waited to hear the damage (to the pocket book). But, instead of taking advantage of our misfortune, the mechanic worked tirelessly to try to save Bruce money. At one point we even heard the guys talking about “stealing” a used tire from the lot of someone else down the road just to get us on our way. Finally, they figured out how to get us on our way safely. While we were waiting on the work to get done, a very nice older man came in and we struck up a conversation. He noticed the shirts we were wearing that donned the HOS logo and after a while he asked us what church we were affiliated with. We told him and we talked for a while and with tears in his eye he asked us to pray for his daughter, “Cookie”, a 37 year old with 2 kids who has terminal cancer. Wow! We thought we were having a bad day. Bruce summed it up great on the drive home when he said that that man’s story really puts things in perspective. It sure does. Our situation didn’t even compare.

Bruce said another thing that will always stick in my mind on the winding ride back to camp. He said that he’s found in his 51 years of life that a good philosophy to live by is to “make the most of the best and the least of the worst.” On this trip we had done just that. We caught lots of fish and we ate ‘em, and they were good. We had some bad stuff happen, but put into perspective, they were opportunities to meet new people and have an experience of kindness that restores your faith in humanity.

As the fire popped and crackled on our last night in camp, we talked about the events of this “adventure” and the adventure called life. We talked about the trials of life and read from Philippians, which incidentally was written by Paul who was experiencing a trail of his own by being unjustly imprisoned. It was nice. When I zipped up my sleeping bag and was serenaded by the rushing trout stream, I thought of “Deliverance” again, but this time, without the banjo music, but to the tune of God’s grace. Thank God tonight for what he has given you, especially His son Jesus. Also, pray for Cookie and that she is delivered from the grip of cancer. God is an awesome God!

“For you, O Lord, have delivered
my soul from death, my eyes from
tears, my feet from stumbling, that I
may walk before the Lord in the land
of the living.” Psalm 116

Jeremy B. Harrill

First time!

Recently I had the privilege and honor of taking someone hunting for the first time. Darrin Jordan, a friend of mine is no stranger to the outdoors. He had been known to “sore-lip” a trout with a dry fly on many occasions, however had never taken to the woods with heavy artillery in hand. Darrin had recently taken a Hunter Education course and thought he would like to put to use what he had learned so I obliged with an offer to turkey hunt. He accepted, and agreed to trade the suit and tie for camo and a 12-gauge shotgun for a mid-week hunt.

We hadn’t been in the woods long when we heard several old Toms thundering off in the distance in the early morning light. Their gobbles shook the treetops. I believe that Darrin got excited at this point. The gobblers decided not to cooperate at his point so we made a tactical retreat to another set-up. They must have liked what they heard then because they started heading our way. After several minutes of silence, they finally appeared – 3 Toms looking for love. The gobbler out front came within range but never offered a clear shot. I was an emotional wreck. With my heart pounding in my chest, I could already see my friend posing with his first turkey in front of the camera. And then it was over – the gobbler just walked away resisting to come back at my feeble attempts to call out to him with yelps, cuts, clucks and purrs. Darrin did a good job. He decided not to take a shot that many hunters would have tried to make. I guess he was paying attention in the Hunter Education class after all – “only take good clean shots that deliver a quick, ethical kill.” Not long after all this happened, I heard Darrin call his secretary and tell her to cancel his evening appointments because he was going to be hunting. I think he may trade that fly rod for a turkey vest and some decoys.

Later in the day, as I reflected on our day of hunting and Darrin’s first hunting experience, I couldn’t help but think of another first time. The time when I first realized that I was a sinner in need of a savior. It was during my college days that I found out that being a Christian was not about being “religious,” but about having a relationship with Jesus Christ. Up until that point in my life, I believed that being good was what it was all about. I was a “good guy.” I was nice. I didn’t cuss, or drink, or kill people. Then, I realized that no matter how good I was, I couldn’t be good enough. If I could, Jesus would have never had to die on the cross. I realized for the first time that God loved me so much that he sent his son to die for my sins and that He desired a relationship with me. Then and there, I decided to accept God’s free gift of his son Jesus. The good news is that Jesus didn’t just die for me, he died for you too. If you don’t know Jesus as your savior, why not try Him for the first time today.

We had a great time hunting, but I must admit that I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t able to help Darrin get his first turkey. Since he didn’t get one, I guess we’ll just have to go hunting again. It was a beautiful day – perfect for turkey hunting. I will always remember something that Darrin said while hunting during the day. While we were trying to locate another lovesick bird, we were talking about the wonderful weather and Darrin said, “It would be a beautiful day to kill a turkey.” The fact of the matter is that any day is a beautiful day to kill a turkey – Amen!

Jeremy B. Harrill

Close Shave!

Joe Finney and the “Gillette” Gobbler

When I answered my phone early this morning I heard a humming of the music to that old song “Another one bites the dust.” I instantly knew that another bird must have gobbled its last gobble. Sho nuff, Joe Finney had dropped the hammer on a nice Tom and was calling to share the story. I love hearing interesting hunting stories from my buddies and I must admit that this story was interesting to say the least. I noticed while I was listening to his story, he never said anything about the bird’s beard. When I inquired about how long the Tom’s beard was I heard a chuckle on the other end of the line and then a pause, followed by an interesting response – “I shot it off,” Joe said.

Evidently the bird popped up about 20 steps from the end of Joe’s gun barrel. It quickly found himself on the receiving end of some #5 turkey shot and in the process got a shave at no extra cost.

It just seems fitting that this Big Tom is given a name. After all, all extraordinary whitetail kills are given names to distinguish them from one another. All deer hunters will recognize the “Hanson Buck” or the “Hole-in-the-Horn Buck.” I’m sure that if this gobbler still had a beard it would be impressive and surely be a record book bird. I can hear the stories now. I bet each time the story gets told, the turkey’s beard will get bigger and bigger. When thinking of a name, one came to mind that just had to be it. “The Gillette Gobbler.” Remember Gillette, the shaving company. They prided themselves on being able to give a man the closest shave that a man could get. Our good friend Joe knows exactly what they were talking about in those commercials, but he doesn’t need a razor, just one round of 12 gauge turkey load. Congratulations Joe. “Gillette, the best a man (I mean turkey) can get.”

Gobble Gobble!

The turkey killin’ has begun. Opening day of the spring turkey season started this past weekend and many were hunkered down next to a tree during the wee hours of the morning with shotgun in hand. I was unsuccessful in my attempt to bag a Tom, but a few of the HOS fellas put some lead in the heads of a couple “thunder chickens.” Kirk Fessler (pictured) and Shane Brock got the season started off right by each waxing a bird on opening day. I can’t wait to hear the stories.

This is one of my favorite times of year. After being introduced to my first “gobble” a little over 10 years ago, spring has had new meaning for me, and life had a new purpose – chasing after longbeards! Those of you who turkey hunt know what I’m talking about. There’s nothing like hearing that ‘ole Tom thunder off at your calls. Then, knowing that you’ve found a love sick strutter and he’s headed your way, your heart races. The spitting and drumming, the strutting, the double and triple gobble all send your heart into overdrive and chills up your spine. Finally, you send lead down range and send the gobbler “home to glory” with one pull of the trigger. What excitement!

All experienced turkey hunters know that turkey hunting can be as frustrating as it is exciting. These wary birds can be hard to figure out sometimes. They’ll gobble their heads off one day, only to be tight-lipped the next. Once you think you’ve got them figured out, they throw you for a loop and do something different. It seems like each time I go into the turkey woods I get another education in gobblerology. When it comes to matters of turkey hunting I guess we really like not knowing what to expect from the birds. It makes it thrilling, keeps it interesting and keeps us coming back to the woods with our slate calls and strikers. However, when it comes to spiritual matters it’s awesome to know that as a Christian we serve a God that is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). He loved us so much that He died for us yesterday. He loves us that same amount today and He’ll love us that much tomorrow – in spite of who we are. God is good!

Jeremy B. Harrill

“That’s a Good Name”

A couple of weeks ago the Heart of a Sportsman fellas took part in one of the dog gone coolest events in North Carolina, the annual Southeastern Treeing Walker Days. The Rowan County Fairgrounds played host to coon hunters from over half of the United States. There was more Carhart bibs, camouflage, 4 wheel drive trucks, hunting dogs and spit cups than you could ever imagine in one place. Needless to say, we felt right at home.

Proverbs 22:1 says, “a good name is better than great riches.” I know that this verse of scripture is talking more about the person behind the name than the name itself, but I couldn’t help but think of this verse while I was reading a list of the names of coonhounds in the Walker Days hunting competition. Coon dogs have really cool names! Hardwood Elvis, Goose Creek Slammer, Bolt Action Reverend Jones just to name a few. Now those are good names! Although these names caught my attention, to the seasoned coon hunter they are nothing really special, just run-of-the-mill names. However, I did learn that there was a name that would particularly cause a cooner to raise an eyebrow. A special name that would cause a seasoned coon hunter to stop in mid spit and swallow his ‘baccer juice when he heard it. The name seemed to demand attention. The name was “Yadkin River.” Whether it is Yadkin River Pete, Yadkin River Joe or Yadkin River Jinx, any dog that had the Yadkin River title was special. Collectively called Yadkin River Dogs, dogs from this bloodline seem to be a cut above other coonhounds. They have the amazing ability to sniff out and tree coons with incredible speed and ease. The bloodline has produced more champion coon dogs than one could ever count. To many in the world of coon hunting, Yadkin River is the name above all names. I guess you could actually say that in the coon dog world, “a good name can mean great riches,” cause often times the puppies from these hounds bring thousands of dollars when sold.

While thinking about the cool names that coon dogs have, another name came to mind - the name of Jesus Christ. The Bible tells us in Acts 4:12 that “salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved." After putting your hope and trust in Jesus, you belong to an amazing bloodline. Romans 8:16 even say that when we accept Christ, “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” It’s an amazing bloodline to be a part of that comes with great riches: forgiveness and eternal life. Now that’s a name above all names!

Jeremy B. Harrill

Nice Rack

Our boy Shane shows off a behemoth monster Whitetail rack at the Dixie Deer Classic in Raleigh NC. I'm going to get my food plot going right now!