When I went to boarding school about 20 miles away from where he lived, I would visit him on some weekends and I lived at his house during the summers. He taught me to hunt and fish and to fend for myself in the woods if I had to; and (although I may catch some flack for this) he taught me about the ways of men.
Gramp was a man of many talents. He was an engineer, a gardener (he grew much of his own food), a hunter, a fly fisherman (he had thousands of flies that he tied himself from partridge and pheasant feathers, squirrel and deer fur, and so forth), and he was a woodsman without parallel.
When he was in his mid 70's he had a hunting buddy named Harold who was in his early 50's. Gramp was always complaining that Harold just could not keep up with him in the woods and --more than once-- Gramp had to forge ahead leaving Harold behind. When I was in my late teens and early twenties I never had to slow down for him if we were in the woods. Gramp stunned almost everyone in the family by going deer hunting alone at the age of 87 and he bagged a deer that year, too.
I miss him terribly.