Whether due to the late meal, the afternoon nap, or general excitement, it took a painful amount of time to fall asleep the previous evening. Most likely the insomnia was due to all three factors and more.
But when I woke up a little before my alarm was set to go off, it was time to head home. I took a quick shower, packed up what little stuff remained and hit the road.
I know the route well by now and had the road to myself. It started to rain within an hour and stayed on the rainy side of at least damp for most of the day's drive. Once again Asheville was a PIA incommensurate with how big that city is.
I finished listening to Ian Urbina's Outlaw Ocean for most of the drive. I enjoyed parts of the book very much, but my criticism from the drive down didn't change since it remained repetitive. Sadly, he ends the book with another section about Sea Shepherd - this whole book is about crime on the open ocean, but then he ends up playing the cheerleader for Sea Shepherd (although he claims he does not). I don't want to say it ruined the book, but it really hurt the objectivity of it. I guess ramming ships while vigilante outlaws play the role of global culture police is OK since the ends justify the means? Or somebody's means? Disappointing... In the epilogue he gives some ideas how some of these huge issues might be solved or at least improved. Some are thought provoking, others seem grossly simplistic, making me wonder if he read the book he wrote since most of the issues are very complex. I wasn't sad when the book was done (and unlike some books, it has already been deleted to make room for something else).
The rain made the driving a little more difficult. I still made good time and even ended up getting gas in the same intersection where I did on the trip down (and several other times). As I got closer to my home turf, my speed went up a little bit. I finished the drive listening to Hidden Brain podcasts (about death, which seemed oddly comforting).
I got home to two very happy beagles and unpacked. I really need to get the hogs in the freezer, but I know from experience that if I do it in a hurry I'll get sloppy. There is lots of ice in the cooler so the meat will wait one day.
The beginning of this wild hog hunt was right on the heels of going to Patagonia, which was right on the heels of Christmas, which was right on the heels of... For at least a few weeks, I'm ready to get back into the routine of home and work. But I know this won't last since I don't have any other adventures being planned. I'll need to fix that soon.
Friday, January 24, 2020
Thursday, January 23, 2020
2020 Hog Hunt Day 6 - Denis is Boaring
After allowing myself an extra cup of coffee, the three of us hunters in camp bagged up corn before heading out with Rick to drop Will off at school. Then it was off to feed the pig stands.
All but one of the stands had been hit well, so it was up to Rick to decide where we were going to sit. Back at the lodge, Denis and Claude went out to go to town. I got in an almost-real nap.
Rick and I headed out to get another trailer full of corn. These things are always more of an adventure than they sound like they should be. Rick shared a game camera picture to Facebook of a very large boar in daylight at one of his stands. Since Denis had been hunting with Rick for some time and really wanted to shoot a big boar with teeth, I assumed this might be where he would end up.
I had just enough time to quick get ready for my last afternoon of hunting.
Rick dropped Claude and I off at the same property where I was the previous day. I helped Claude get pointed to his stand where I had quite a walk back to my stand. I was a bit bummed that not only was this my last day of hunting in South Carolina, but also that this would likely close out the 19/20 season. And what a season it has been. I had a great bear hunt in Manitoba. I had my first attempts at waterfowl hunting, and my first duck. I had a deer season which put venison in the freezer and had one of the most pleasant and memorable days of deer hunting. And I had two hogs in the coolers - connecting with old friends in the process. As I neared the stand, my mood changed to one of gratitude.
Before getting into my stand I walked a short way down the road to peak at the corn pile. Seeing something, I watched carefully and saw it was a buck. Carefully making my way back to the stand and climbing in, I was really surprised the buck didn't bolt. While he probably wouldn't have made many hunters happy, I would have shot him if I was hunting deer.
The afternoon was extremely pleasant. The temperature was nearly perfect at a little below 50F. The sky was cloudy and wind was minimal. This is as good as it gets.
At some point the buck wandered off and I had quite a wait. I was sitting in the same crazy Some Kind of Wonderful stand from the previous year, but it seemed like it was less uncomfortable than I remembered. Still not my favorite, but I shot a hog the previous year from this stand so hopes were high.
I noticed dark movement on the corn pile as a lone turkey walked in. It only stayed for a few minutes before making its way out.
After another wait four does came out. They stayed on the corn pile for quite some time. I enjoyed watching them and I knew if any hogs were imminent the deer would run off, so it made watching and listening for hogs a little easier.
While the four deer were in front of me, I got a text from SO asking "what I was up to." We don't chitchat and she knows I'm hunting, so this was out of character making me wonder if something was wrong. As it was, the text was misdirected to me - so who was that intended for when she should be on her way home to take care of the dogs???
The does left and the buck returned again. I got a better look at him and while not real wide, he had good height and reasonable mass. He was nervous and flitted in and out for a little while.
Noise behind me made me hopeful since the hogs the previous year on this stand came from behind me. Carefully turning around I saw several turkeys. They wandered around behind me for a while before heading away from me and not toward the corn pile.
After the turkeys headed off away from me into the brush, it started to get dark. I watched the buck on the corn pile as it got darker and darker. He was joined by at least two more deer, but considering I was having a hard time seeing them, I knew it was time to call it a hunt.
I unloaded my gun and packed up my stuff to head out. Since I needed to walk past Claude, I waited a bit in case his night vision was better than mine.
Denis had indeed shot a very large boar that weighed out at just below 240 pounds (and sorry for the somewhat graphic picture). He was quite happy to have finally dropped a large boar.
Back at the lodge I packed up most of my stuff. Denis and Claude again graciously shared their meal of steak, brussel sprouts and potatoes with me.
We all agreed it would be fun to meet up again next year to go after hogs again.
All but one of the stands had been hit well, so it was up to Rick to decide where we were going to sit. Back at the lodge, Denis and Claude went out to go to town. I got in an almost-real nap.
Rick and I headed out to get another trailer full of corn. These things are always more of an adventure than they sound like they should be. Rick shared a game camera picture to Facebook of a very large boar in daylight at one of his stands. Since Denis had been hunting with Rick for some time and really wanted to shoot a big boar with teeth, I assumed this might be where he would end up.
I had just enough time to quick get ready for my last afternoon of hunting.
Rick dropped Claude and I off at the same property where I was the previous day. I helped Claude get pointed to his stand where I had quite a walk back to my stand. I was a bit bummed that not only was this my last day of hunting in South Carolina, but also that this would likely close out the 19/20 season. And what a season it has been. I had a great bear hunt in Manitoba. I had my first attempts at waterfowl hunting, and my first duck. I had a deer season which put venison in the freezer and had one of the most pleasant and memorable days of deer hunting. And I had two hogs in the coolers - connecting with old friends in the process. As I neared the stand, my mood changed to one of gratitude.
Before getting into my stand I walked a short way down the road to peak at the corn pile. Seeing something, I watched carefully and saw it was a buck. Carefully making my way back to the stand and climbing in, I was really surprised the buck didn't bolt. While he probably wouldn't have made many hunters happy, I would have shot him if I was hunting deer.
The afternoon was extremely pleasant. The temperature was nearly perfect at a little below 50F. The sky was cloudy and wind was minimal. This is as good as it gets.
At some point the buck wandered off and I had quite a wait. I was sitting in the same crazy Some Kind of Wonderful stand from the previous year, but it seemed like it was less uncomfortable than I remembered. Still not my favorite, but I shot a hog the previous year from this stand so hopes were high.
I noticed dark movement on the corn pile as a lone turkey walked in. It only stayed for a few minutes before making its way out.
After another wait four does came out. They stayed on the corn pile for quite some time. I enjoyed watching them and I knew if any hogs were imminent the deer would run off, so it made watching and listening for hogs a little easier.
While the four deer were in front of me, I got a text from SO asking "what I was up to." We don't chitchat and she knows I'm hunting, so this was out of character making me wonder if something was wrong. As it was, the text was misdirected to me - so who was that intended for when she should be on her way home to take care of the dogs???
The does left and the buck returned again. I got a better look at him and while not real wide, he had good height and reasonable mass. He was nervous and flitted in and out for a little while.
Noise behind me made me hopeful since the hogs the previous year on this stand came from behind me. Carefully turning around I saw several turkeys. They wandered around behind me for a while before heading away from me and not toward the corn pile.
After the turkeys headed off away from me into the brush, it started to get dark. I watched the buck on the corn pile as it got darker and darker. He was joined by at least two more deer, but considering I was having a hard time seeing them, I knew it was time to call it a hunt.
I unloaded my gun and packed up my stuff to head out. Since I needed to walk past Claude, I waited a bit in case his night vision was better than mine.
Denis had indeed shot a very large boar that weighed out at just below 240 pounds (and sorry for the somewhat graphic picture). He was quite happy to have finally dropped a large boar.
Back at the lodge I packed up most of my stuff. Denis and Claude again graciously shared their meal of steak, brussel sprouts and potatoes with me.
We all agreed it would be fun to meet up again next year to go after hogs again.
2020 Hog Hunt Day 5 - First Night with No Sightings
Rick was driving a loaner vehicle since his transmission went belly-up. I don't suppose loaners have easy lives, but this is far beyond the norm. I believe many dealerships sell loaner vehicles as "used" but with full factory warranty since they never end up titled - which is an interesting thing to think about.
With time to kill in the morning, I sprayed down Rick's loaner in preparation for turning it in. The dealership said the only thing they cared about is that it didn't go off road, so there couldn't be mud in the wheel wells.
Once it got light we dropped off Will at school before heading out to Kingstree. En route we stopped at Hardee's for one of my very rare forays into the world of fast food. Rick was up front about the dents in the loaner to the dealer and it would be on his dime to fix them, but the dealership seemed fair about it. In the morning sunlight the scratches from driving through brush, etc. were easily noticed as well.
Back on home turf and in Rick's truck we fed most of the stands. There was little opportunity left for down time at the lodge before heading out for the afternoon.
Rick dropped Denis off at the field in front of Larimor's field. I was dropped off on the front stand in the property looking down the green food plot. I've always thought this looked like a good spot but have never hunted it before. Once situated in the stand, I noticed it was one of the few fields that hadn't been marauded by hogs yet.
The afternoon was warmer than the previous day but still very windy. The ladder stand gave some shelter from trees, but the wind still dominated. I spent the first hour dozing in the stand. This is probably not the safest thing to do. Tucked into the stand (and really more resting than anything), the risk is acceptably low.
Around 3:00 I noticed movement and six turkeys popped out. The four gobblers and two jakes weren't terribly interested in the corn and made their way down the field to nearly right in front of me before turning around and working their way out by the same route - meandering the whole time to pick at morsels of who-knows-what in the ground. The 45 minutes or so they were there gave me something to watch.
Shortly after the turkeys left another larger group of 18 popped out right next to me. With all the wind I hadn't heard them which is surprising since turkeys do make quite a bit of noise. They worked their way to the end of the food plot, leaving at around the same place as the first group.
It remained quiet for most of the rest of the afternoon. The wind began to die down, at first giving brief interludes of quiet which sporadically got longer. By the time I left to meet at the road, the wind had nearly stopped.
Right at dark I barely caught movement of something. Thinking it might be a hog and with just enough light to get me in trouble I looked through the scope. It was a whitetail buck and the fact that I couldn't see it well enough to know if it was decent or not told me it was time to unload and slip out.
Once we were picked up, nobody had seen any hogs - meaning this was the first night since I got here where none were at least seen.
Back in the lodge the beef roast Denis had put in the oven smelled amazing. Denis and Claude once again were kind enough to share and it tasted as good as it smelled.
I had finished Roughneck Grace and was thinking about heading to bed when Rick walked in with an AR rifle hung over his shoulder. Denis told him dinner was over.
"I don't care about that, ya'll want to go out and see if we can shoot some hogs with the thermal?" His AR was equipped with a FLIR scope.
We all scrambled to get ready.
As we got in the truck Rick pointed at his rifle, "Take care of that since it is more valuable than your life." As with many things with Rick, he was kidding, but also not.
Back in the truck we went to one of Rick's stands. In the darkness I really couldn't tell which one. Since both Claude and I had shot twice, Denis was to be the shooter. We walked in a ways at which time Rick gave some very quiet instructions. I ended up acting as an interpreter for the two French Canadians by nudging Denis to follow Rick, but holding Claude back. Over the years I've gotten to know all three of these guys well enough that this is acceptable. Still, it was hard not to laugh about the situation.
Claude and I stood in the pitch black darkness hoping for a rifle report. The stars overhead through the winter South Carolina trees were amazing. The now windless night amplified every sound.
After a while, Rick and Denis made their way back; no joy.
We drove around a bit looking in a few more of Rick's fields with his handheld thermal monocular. It seems the pigs were not cooperating even in the dark night. Despite the lack of success, it was exciting trying a new twist on hog hunting. I do want to try night hog hunting some time, but at >$2500 for a decent thermal scope, I hope to be able to use Rick's. That isn't an investment I can make.
With time to kill in the morning, I sprayed down Rick's loaner in preparation for turning it in. The dealership said the only thing they cared about is that it didn't go off road, so there couldn't be mud in the wheel wells.
Once it got light we dropped off Will at school before heading out to Kingstree. En route we stopped at Hardee's for one of my very rare forays into the world of fast food. Rick was up front about the dents in the loaner to the dealer and it would be on his dime to fix them, but the dealership seemed fair about it. In the morning sunlight the scratches from driving through brush, etc. were easily noticed as well.
Back on home turf and in Rick's truck we fed most of the stands. There was little opportunity left for down time at the lodge before heading out for the afternoon.
Rick dropped Denis off at the field in front of Larimor's field. I was dropped off on the front stand in the property looking down the green food plot. I've always thought this looked like a good spot but have never hunted it before. Once situated in the stand, I noticed it was one of the few fields that hadn't been marauded by hogs yet.
The afternoon was warmer than the previous day but still very windy. The ladder stand gave some shelter from trees, but the wind still dominated. I spent the first hour dozing in the stand. This is probably not the safest thing to do. Tucked into the stand (and really more resting than anything), the risk is acceptably low.
Around 3:00 I noticed movement and six turkeys popped out. The four gobblers and two jakes weren't terribly interested in the corn and made their way down the field to nearly right in front of me before turning around and working their way out by the same route - meandering the whole time to pick at morsels of who-knows-what in the ground. The 45 minutes or so they were there gave me something to watch.
Shortly after the turkeys left another larger group of 18 popped out right next to me. With all the wind I hadn't heard them which is surprising since turkeys do make quite a bit of noise. They worked their way to the end of the food plot, leaving at around the same place as the first group.
It remained quiet for most of the rest of the afternoon. The wind began to die down, at first giving brief interludes of quiet which sporadically got longer. By the time I left to meet at the road, the wind had nearly stopped.
Right at dark I barely caught movement of something. Thinking it might be a hog and with just enough light to get me in trouble I looked through the scope. It was a whitetail buck and the fact that I couldn't see it well enough to know if it was decent or not told me it was time to unload and slip out.
Once we were picked up, nobody had seen any hogs - meaning this was the first night since I got here where none were at least seen.
Back in the lodge the beef roast Denis had put in the oven smelled amazing. Denis and Claude once again were kind enough to share and it tasted as good as it smelled.
I had finished Roughneck Grace and was thinking about heading to bed when Rick walked in with an AR rifle hung over his shoulder. Denis told him dinner was over.
"I don't care about that, ya'll want to go out and see if we can shoot some hogs with the thermal?" His AR was equipped with a FLIR scope.
We all scrambled to get ready.
As we got in the truck Rick pointed at his rifle, "Take care of that since it is more valuable than your life." As with many things with Rick, he was kidding, but also not.
Back in the truck we went to one of Rick's stands. In the darkness I really couldn't tell which one. Since both Claude and I had shot twice, Denis was to be the shooter. We walked in a ways at which time Rick gave some very quiet instructions. I ended up acting as an interpreter for the two French Canadians by nudging Denis to follow Rick, but holding Claude back. Over the years I've gotten to know all three of these guys well enough that this is acceptable. Still, it was hard not to laugh about the situation.
Claude and I stood in the pitch black darkness hoping for a rifle report. The stars overhead through the winter South Carolina trees were amazing. The now windless night amplified every sound.
After a while, Rick and Denis made their way back; no joy.
We drove around a bit looking in a few more of Rick's fields with his handheld thermal monocular. It seems the pigs were not cooperating even in the dark night. Despite the lack of success, it was exciting trying a new twist on hog hunting. I do want to try night hog hunting some time, but at >$2500 for a decent thermal scope, I hope to be able to use Rick's. That isn't an investment I can make.
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
2020 Hog Hunt Day 4 - Voiceless It Cries
After waking up and getting moving, we dropped Will off at school before going out to feed stands. All of the stands had been hit the previous night. The tire tracks from Rick's truck couldn't even be seen near my wild stand from the previous night due to all the hog tracks.
Back at the lodge, there was more down time. Of everything I do, I think hog hunting forces me to slow down more than anything.
Early afternoon we suited up in camo armor to head out for hogs. Claude was dropped off at the stand across from the big house while Rick dropped Denis and I off at the Washtub - I was on the White Trash stand.
The afternoon was cool and very windy. I'm sure gusts were above 20MPH and stuff banging into the blind ranged from annoying to startling at times. I was quite happy to be in a box blind since being in a treestand in these conditions can be a little unfun.
With the wind howling, I kept thinking of the riddle Gollum gave The Hobbit:
Back at the lodge, there was more down time. Of everything I do, I think hog hunting forces me to slow down more than anything.
Early afternoon we suited up in camo armor to head out for hogs. Claude was dropped off at the stand across from the big house while Rick dropped Denis and I off at the Washtub - I was on the White Trash stand.
The afternoon was cool and very windy. I'm sure gusts were above 20MPH and stuff banging into the blind ranged from annoying to startling at times. I was quite happy to be in a box blind since being in a treestand in these conditions can be a little unfun.
With the wind howling, I kept thinking of the riddle Gollum gave The Hobbit:
“Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters.”
Although in my memory I had that wrong. And with all due respect to the newer versions, The Hobbit is best watched as a cartoon movie circa 1977!
The afternoon passed a little slowly. With the wind, not much was moving. I started to get antsy and needed to remind myself how precious these moments are - almost spiritual. Even if nothing is in front of me I'm still sitting in a beautiful place with the opportunity to interact with wild animals in a way few can. Being in a hunting blind even when "nothing is happening" gives me time to think and reflect, and that is a luxury some don't ever get. Watching a robin flitting around a few feet in front of me reinforced this.
Around 5:00 four deer came out. Whereas hogs usually come in like a bunch of boisterous junior high boys, deer are much more subdued. And these four where definitely of the nervous nelly variety. It was a bit surprising that it took the third day on the stand to see deer.
The deer hung around for a little less than an hour before they scooted away. I brought my gun up since hogs will often chase deer away. But it wasn't to be. The night grew large as it got darker and darker. At some point when dark had largely taken over, I peered through the scope and saw the deer had returned. Because I hadn't seen with without the aid of the scope, I knew I was past the point to call it an evening. I unloaded my gun, packed up, and headed back to meet Denis and wait for Rick.
Denis hadn't seen anything. Claude had shot a perfect meat boar.
Denis made us all a late dinner, and we called it a night.
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
2020 Hog Hunt Day 3 - Chasse Au Cochon Sauvage
Mike and Wayne left in the day's predawn hours. I was a bit bummed to see them go since they were really intriguing people. When I think back to all the people I've met here, I count myself very lucky that so many of them were interesting - and certainly outside of the box that many would like to put people who hunt hogs in.
The temperature had plummeted overnight and the heat ran continuously in the lodge. Hopefully the weather change is good for hog movement for Denis, Claude and myself.
Rick had some obligations in the AM so the lodge went unsupervised. Denis turned the TV to an outdoor channel and I tried to watch a couple shows. I'm not sure if outdoor TV has changed or if I have, but hunting shows are nearly unwatchable. Overly scripted scenes, ridiculous reenactments and thinly veiled product placements... Ugh.
It reminded me of something Rick said the previous day, "You and that old Ruger(TM) have killed a lot of hogs."
In all seriousness, outdoor TV is pretty bad, Rick really did say that, and I have used that rifle, regardless of make, to shoot quite a few hogs over the years.
Denis and Claude putzed around the lodge while I kept myself busy. Denis and Claude are French Canadian; Claude speaks only French while Denis speaks reasonably good English (a little bit better than my Spanish). So for the second time in a few weeks I existed in a place unable to comprehend much of what was being said.
Late in the morning, they left to go target shooting leaving me blessedly with some time alone. I spent the time alternating between dozing and reading Michael Perry's Roughneck Grace - a good enough book with a few laughs and insights. Although no book of his has stood up to Truck: A Love Story. It is also possible I just happened to have read that book at the right time.
An early afternoon walk down to the river confirmed the afternoon was going to be cold and windy. After so much down time, the walk was invigorating.
Eventually Rick was back and quickly quartered my hog as it went into the cooler with a huge bag of ice. Then it was time to head out to hunt for the afternoon.
Claude was dropped off at the Sandy Bottom stand, then Rick dropped me off at the Church stand.
I had sat at this stand the previous year in the morning since the game cameras had seem some AM activity there, but all I got that day was wet (morning hunts even in the light rain are quite wonderful).
It was easy to get situated with a field tripod rest for my gun and the chair was surprisingly comfortable. I sat down for one of the wildest hog hunts I've ever had.
The stand is a "ground blind" but really just a chair behind a big dirt pile. There isn't much in front or behind to break up the outline. The wind was gusty and swirling. If I would have walked up on someone in this picture, I would have thought, "What a noob..." I've learned to trust Rick, but everything felt wrong.
It was cold by South Carolina standards and the wind made it feel worse. However, the bluebird skies made it much more tolerable and pretty.
Not much happened for the first few hours, although I did hear pigs a few times in the woods to my left. I thought it was a good sign that I was hearing them so early.
Around 5:00 I saw a new dark smudge on the left of muddy-wallow corn pile and a hog hopped out. I'll be honest upfront, it looked huge - so big I wasn't sure it wasn't a big boar. It wouldn't have mattered, but once we picked it up, it was a good pig but not a monster. With my gun in the field pod, it was short work to send a bullet downstream. The pig dropped and flopped for a few seconds before it was over. Since it was still broad daylight, I could see it was almost assuredly a sow.
After the shot things got quiet before I started to hear something on my left - immediately on my left. There was a hog RIGHT inside the woods from me, and it stayed there for quite a while grunting and snorting. It was a little disconcerting, made even more so when it popped out of the woods right behind me and trotted away. It was obviously trying to figure out what was going on and had no idea I was there. I sometimes wonder how I'm doing as far as scent control or minimizing movement, and events like this tell me I'm at least not all wrong.
I could hear more pigs in the woods. They spent a little over a half an hour running around in the woods making tons of noise and squealing and fighting. A few times they were running around and carrying on close enough I could see trees and brush moving. With all the noise, it was a bit uncomfortable a couple times. I've had hogs running around me before where they never show themselves, but this group did. Three popped out right in front of me with another seven jumping out right by the corn. A few of these were quite big.
One of this group peeled away from the rest and spent most of the time in the field to the right.
As I was watching them, I heard another group of pigs in the woods. This group sounded like a heard of freight trains and bulldozers careening through the woods. I don't think I've ever heard pigs this loud. It was getting dark by this time and they came out onto the pile. These two groups of pigs did not seem to like each other very much and there was tons of wild pork screaming and fighting.
Then I noticed the lone pig in the field had worked its way toward me. It was agitated and it was not a small animal. I could hear it making little grunts as it darted around. After standing behind me for a while, it charged up next to me close enough that I could have punched it in the face. One of the challenges of ground blinds is that it can be hard to get really close to animals; in this case, it was almost too close. But that pig had no idea I was there and ran around me a little bit more before joining his (it was a boar) fellow swine in combat.
As it got dark dark, one group of pigs went tearing away again through the woods. I easily could have shot another pig (possibly in self defense), but Rick asked me by text not to. I was fine with this, especially since I still thought the one on the ground was huge.
Rick had me slip out to meet back at the truck. Denis had shot a boar hog. We went to get Claude and he had shot and missed one down by the river. We went back and picked up my hog. As noted, it wasn't the monster I thought it was, but it was a 150+ pound sow - another nearly perfect eating size.
Back at the lodge we cleaned my hog and it went right into the cooler with some ice. It was forecast to get well below freezing overnight so I propped the cooler lid open a bit.
Despite being a relatively young hog, Denis' hog stunk to a level incommensurate with his size. I probably would have at least skinned it to see what the meat looked and smelled like, but Denis elected not to. Having smelled a few atrociously stinky boars, this was probably the right thing to do. (I'm not sure why I didn't get a better picture of Denis' hog.)
It was a pretty wild evening. As Denis and Claude might say: chasse au cochon sauvage. And the fact that I'm on day two of hunting with two coolers quite full is pretty awesome as well.
The temperature had plummeted overnight and the heat ran continuously in the lodge. Hopefully the weather change is good for hog movement for Denis, Claude and myself.
Rick had some obligations in the AM so the lodge went unsupervised. Denis turned the TV to an outdoor channel and I tried to watch a couple shows. I'm not sure if outdoor TV has changed or if I have, but hunting shows are nearly unwatchable. Overly scripted scenes, ridiculous reenactments and thinly veiled product placements... Ugh.
It reminded me of something Rick said the previous day, "You and that old Ruger(TM) have killed a lot of hogs."
In all seriousness, outdoor TV is pretty bad, Rick really did say that, and I have used that rifle, regardless of make, to shoot quite a few hogs over the years.
Denis and Claude putzed around the lodge while I kept myself busy. Denis and Claude are French Canadian; Claude speaks only French while Denis speaks reasonably good English (a little bit better than my Spanish). So for the second time in a few weeks I existed in a place unable to comprehend much of what was being said.
Late in the morning, they left to go target shooting leaving me blessedly with some time alone. I spent the time alternating between dozing and reading Michael Perry's Roughneck Grace - a good enough book with a few laughs and insights. Although no book of his has stood up to Truck: A Love Story. It is also possible I just happened to have read that book at the right time.
An early afternoon walk down to the river confirmed the afternoon was going to be cold and windy. After so much down time, the walk was invigorating.
Eventually Rick was back and quickly quartered my hog as it went into the cooler with a huge bag of ice. Then it was time to head out to hunt for the afternoon.
Claude was dropped off at the Sandy Bottom stand, then Rick dropped me off at the Church stand.
I had sat at this stand the previous year in the morning since the game cameras had seem some AM activity there, but all I got that day was wet (morning hunts even in the light rain are quite wonderful).
It was easy to get situated with a field tripod rest for my gun and the chair was surprisingly comfortable. I sat down for one of the wildest hog hunts I've ever had.
The stand is a "ground blind" but really just a chair behind a big dirt pile. There isn't much in front or behind to break up the outline. The wind was gusty and swirling. If I would have walked up on someone in this picture, I would have thought, "What a noob..." I've learned to trust Rick, but everything felt wrong.
It was cold by South Carolina standards and the wind made it feel worse. However, the bluebird skies made it much more tolerable and pretty.
Not much happened for the first few hours, although I did hear pigs a few times in the woods to my left. I thought it was a good sign that I was hearing them so early.
Around 5:00 I saw a new dark smudge on the left of muddy-wallow corn pile and a hog hopped out. I'll be honest upfront, it looked huge - so big I wasn't sure it wasn't a big boar. It wouldn't have mattered, but once we picked it up, it was a good pig but not a monster. With my gun in the field pod, it was short work to send a bullet downstream. The pig dropped and flopped for a few seconds before it was over. Since it was still broad daylight, I could see it was almost assuredly a sow.
After the shot things got quiet before I started to hear something on my left - immediately on my left. There was a hog RIGHT inside the woods from me, and it stayed there for quite a while grunting and snorting. It was a little disconcerting, made even more so when it popped out of the woods right behind me and trotted away. It was obviously trying to figure out what was going on and had no idea I was there. I sometimes wonder how I'm doing as far as scent control or minimizing movement, and events like this tell me I'm at least not all wrong.
I could hear more pigs in the woods. They spent a little over a half an hour running around in the woods making tons of noise and squealing and fighting. A few times they were running around and carrying on close enough I could see trees and brush moving. With all the noise, it was a bit uncomfortable a couple times. I've had hogs running around me before where they never show themselves, but this group did. Three popped out right in front of me with another seven jumping out right by the corn. A few of these were quite big.
One of this group peeled away from the rest and spent most of the time in the field to the right.
As I was watching them, I heard another group of pigs in the woods. This group sounded like a heard of freight trains and bulldozers careening through the woods. I don't think I've ever heard pigs this loud. It was getting dark by this time and they came out onto the pile. These two groups of pigs did not seem to like each other very much and there was tons of wild pork screaming and fighting.
Then I noticed the lone pig in the field had worked its way toward me. It was agitated and it was not a small animal. I could hear it making little grunts as it darted around. After standing behind me for a while, it charged up next to me close enough that I could have punched it in the face. One of the challenges of ground blinds is that it can be hard to get really close to animals; in this case, it was almost too close. But that pig had no idea I was there and ran around me a little bit more before joining his (it was a boar) fellow swine in combat.
As it got dark dark, one group of pigs went tearing away again through the woods. I easily could have shot another pig (possibly in self defense), but Rick asked me by text not to. I was fine with this, especially since I still thought the one on the ground was huge.
Rick had me slip out to meet back at the truck. Denis had shot a boar hog. We went to get Claude and he had shot and missed one down by the river. We went back and picked up my hog. As noted, it wasn't the monster I thought it was, but it was a 150+ pound sow - another nearly perfect eating size.
Back at the lodge we cleaned my hog and it went right into the cooler with some ice. It was forecast to get well below freezing overnight so I propped the cooler lid open a bit.
Despite being a relatively young hog, Denis' hog stunk to a level incommensurate with his size. I probably would have at least skinned it to see what the meat looked and smelled like, but Denis elected not to. Having smelled a few atrociously stinky boars, this was probably the right thing to do. (I'm not sure why I didn't get a better picture of Denis' hog.)
It was a pretty wild evening. As Denis and Claude might say: chasse au cochon sauvage. And the fact that I'm on day two of hunting with two coolers quite full is pretty awesome as well.
Monday, January 20, 2020
2020 Hog Hunt Day 2 - Hog Down!
I hate getting up early in pig camp since noise carries in the lodge, but once awake the best thing for me to do is to get up before the brain starts running off at 100MPH. But both Wayne and Mike are also early people so once I started moving Wayne was up and making coffee. Mike followed shortly.
We all putzed around the lodge and talked for a bit before it was finally time to start getting ready. They shared their sausage from Mike's heritage hogs with me - tasted good and the texture was phenomenal.
A little after 8:00 we all piled into Rick's truck and headed out to feed the stands. All but one of the stands had been hit overnight. There was the typical BS, lies and verbal hatchets thrown around the truck all morning.
The transmission in Rick's truck had decided to go belly-up so he was driving a loaner. Rick's vehicles work hard and it was likely the most abuse any loaner vehicle has ever endured. I believe Rick is on good terms with the dealership ... for now.
Back at the lodge there was too much time for lollygagging; hog hunting is one of the few times I get forced into down time. I guess that is good?
Soon enough it was time to head out for hogs. Temperatures were warm, at least in the upper 50's with some moderately gusty winds. I ended sitting in the Fish Snatch stand which I won't complain about. There are both positives and negatives to enclosed box blinds, but on all but the most stagnantly hot days, I like them. And the stand has treated me well before.
It was pretty slow for the first couple hours with not much moving. The shooting port in the stand is pretty tiny so it wasn't easy to see out when resting. At one point one lonely turkey came out but it didn't stick around for too long. A short time later a flock of about 11 turkeys jumped out right in front of me before heading in the brush down to the corn. They didn't stay around too long either.
As sunset approached, Rick texted me to ask if I saw anything. I texted back about the turkeys and around the time my phone buzzed again I looked up to see a group of small pigs running out onto the corn. I brought my gun up as three bigger hogs came out - one black, one grey and one reddish. The red one was on the left by itself and away from the fence. I thought for about a millisecond about waiting to see what else might pop out, but I know the situation can change very quickly. Crosshairs on its head, trigger pulled. The rifle blast inside an enclosed box blind is a special kind of loud.
All the pigs high-tailed it out as the red hog hit the ground and flopped for a few seconds. All was quiet again.
I texted Rick. He thought I was lying at first.
Once on the ground, even huge hogs tend to look tiny. I've seen enough hogs to know it was a decent eater, but it still looked like it was the size of a cocker spaniel lying there (blurry pic since it was actually quick dark at this point).
Then it was time to wait. I wouldn't have complained if the group of hogs came back out. But I was happy and didn't want to be greedy. As it got dark, I waded through the time when I could shoot but shouldn't almost hoping that it would remain quiet. It remained breathlessly quiet with the exception of the sounds of the hogs still nearby for only a few seconds.
After it was dark dark, Rick showed up to pick me up. We quickly hoisted the hog, a ~130 pound sow, into his loaner truck and went to pick up Mike. Wayne had seen two big hogs run the deer off, but they only stayed long enough to run around before leaving. Mike hadn't seen anything. They were only hunting two days and I felt a bit bad that I had shot one and they were leaving empty. So it goes...
Back at the lodge Rick skinned and cleaned my hog. Dennis and Claude had arrived for the week.
Mike and Wayne generously shared their dinner with me. The three of us (the early risers) turned in early.
Sunday, January 19, 2020
2020 Hog Hunt Day 1 - Drive Ice to SC
Fresh on the heels of a pretty amazing adventure in South America, I'm headed to South Carolina for hunting. Normally I like to spread out my adventures since having something to look forward to, to break up the day-in day-out drudgery, helps keep me going. And since most years have me at home for Christmas and New Year's, I'm usually buggering pretty good by mid-January for something interesting. So even if not as critical, this year's hog hunting was planned at the end of last year's. I'll head out while still thinking about Patagonia. Queue Mort from Family Guy singing "There's Got To Be a Morning After" - because in this case there is no morning after.
The weather forecast put home near the edge of a winter weather advisory, with ice possible. I was up early and decided if the first few miles were going to be slow, all the more reason to get going early. I let the dogs out to a driveway covered in crunchy ice with temperatures just below freezing - not the best start.
It took me about a half hour to get ready and I was out the door. Roads were a bit slippery, but not too bad. I made my way down to the interstate where I got more nervous. The temperature was just below freezing with light rain. This is perfect conditions for black ice. As I headed south, I did feel a few slick spots, but they were brief. I was hoping for AWD magic to save me from all but the worst conditions. And when a Charger went past me like I was standing still, I figure he's likely to find the slick spots for me. Somewhere south of Lexington the rain stopped at around the same place that the temperature increased significantly. A quick look at the radar suggested I was in the clear.
I continued on and got off the interstate on my Knoxville avoidance route. I wasn't expecting a great sunrise, but there is something about this area - even from the driver seat of a vehicle.
I was listening to Outlaw Ocean by Ian Urbina. I only made it through the first half on my trip south, but it was really good, if a bit repetitive in concepts. He tells the story of what happens on the open ocean once beyond national barriers, what laws apply, even with significant grey areas and what laws are ignored. The stories are riveting, and the writing really good. Even with the repetitiveness, the tragic stories of commercial fishing were difficult to listen to. To hear the waste of human lives and natural resources is utterly tragic. I guess I feel better about hunting as a way to get my food? He starts the book talking about Sea Shepherd and later Greenpeace; if these guys are the cure, they are nearly as bad as the disease - a point he only brushes on.
I realized I had forgotten my apples in the fridge at home, so I made plans to stop and get some once I got close to Rick's. But I figure if apples are the only thing I forgot, I'm doing pretty well this year.
I got to Rick's and two other guys were there from near Philadelphia. Mike and Wayne seemed pretty nice and they headed out to be dropped off in stands shortly after I got there.
I unloaded the truck put my feet up in the lodge with a bit of a headache. For whatever reason, I wasn't in a great mood - something I hope (and expect) will disappear once the actual hunting gets nearer.
Mike saw hogs that night on the same stand I shot my orange pig last year, but it was too dark for him to shoot. Wayne only saw deer.
We watched TV and talked for a bit before turning in early.
The weather forecast put home near the edge of a winter weather advisory, with ice possible. I was up early and decided if the first few miles were going to be slow, all the more reason to get going early. I let the dogs out to a driveway covered in crunchy ice with temperatures just below freezing - not the best start.
It took me about a half hour to get ready and I was out the door. Roads were a bit slippery, but not too bad. I made my way down to the interstate where I got more nervous. The temperature was just below freezing with light rain. This is perfect conditions for black ice. As I headed south, I did feel a few slick spots, but they were brief. I was hoping for AWD magic to save me from all but the worst conditions. And when a Charger went past me like I was standing still, I figure he's likely to find the slick spots for me. Somewhere south of Lexington the rain stopped at around the same place that the temperature increased significantly. A quick look at the radar suggested I was in the clear.
I continued on and got off the interstate on my Knoxville avoidance route. I wasn't expecting a great sunrise, but there is something about this area - even from the driver seat of a vehicle.
I was listening to Outlaw Ocean by Ian Urbina. I only made it through the first half on my trip south, but it was really good, if a bit repetitive in concepts. He tells the story of what happens on the open ocean once beyond national barriers, what laws apply, even with significant grey areas and what laws are ignored. The stories are riveting, and the writing really good. Even with the repetitiveness, the tragic stories of commercial fishing were difficult to listen to. To hear the waste of human lives and natural resources is utterly tragic. I guess I feel better about hunting as a way to get my food? He starts the book talking about Sea Shepherd and later Greenpeace; if these guys are the cure, they are nearly as bad as the disease - a point he only brushes on.
I realized I had forgotten my apples in the fridge at home, so I made plans to stop and get some once I got close to Rick's. But I figure if apples are the only thing I forgot, I'm doing pretty well this year.
I got to Rick's and two other guys were there from near Philadelphia. Mike and Wayne seemed pretty nice and they headed out to be dropped off in stands shortly after I got there.
I unloaded the truck put my feet up in the lodge with a bit of a headache. For whatever reason, I wasn't in a great mood - something I hope (and expect) will disappear once the actual hunting gets nearer.
Mike saw hogs that night on the same stand I shot my orange pig last year, but it was too dark for him to shoot. Wayne only saw deer.
We watched TV and talked for a bit before turning in early.
Sunday, January 5, 2020
Patagonian New Year Days 9&10 - Heading Home
I felt bad when Abi's dogs started to make noise when I woke up. But it was hard to avoid and since she has workers in her house at times it probably isn't the only time this has happened.
We had some time before we went to the airport so I finished reading Back to Cape Horn by Rosie Swale. It tells of her travel by horseback down the length of Chile in the mid-1980's. I guess it is a good story, but it was also somewhere between troubling and pointless - these kind of books are often really good if there is a reason for the travel or if it explores history in some kind of new or even just relevant way. This was just a trip to write a book about; the reason was the end. The completion of the journey as a vanity passenger on a military ship was utterly pointless.
After a bit of a slow morning including a final brief walk about Abi's property, we headed out. We stopped by a store for some real empanadas and treats for the trip. Then it was off to the airport. Traffic was almost bad which was a first for the trip.
Whether I am ready to leave or not, it is time to head home. And I am at least partially ready to be home.
Once at the airport, I tried to check in. There was lots of furrowed brows before I was told that it was too early to check in. Old Sis was walking behind me and had a boarding pass so I asked again. More furrowed brows, "It says you missed the flight to Balmaceda? Your ticket is cancelled."
"I didn't miss my flight. I'm in Balmaceda."
"You can use the phone over there to call and see if this can be fixed."
I was not happy. My stomach suddenly hurt. My loathing of commercial air travel came back, compounded by being in a foreign country.
This led to just under and hour on the phone with Latam. At least the person I talked to was very helpful. I am very, very glad we got to the airport early so that Nephew could leave on his next adventure!
Problem solved and I went back to the counter and successfully checked in - with the minor hiccup of needing to fix my seat assignment for the flight to Miami since I paid for the extra leg room.
Every problem, no matter how nerve wracking, has a solution. Latam should realize that if I had waited to check in, there likely would not have been time to fix this and my flights would have been in permanent jeopardy.
Once through security, which was more like US security in the 1980's, we had a bit of time to wait until boarding the flight to Santiago. And I was blessed with an empty seat next to me.
On to Santiago where we had some time. We all tried to spend our remaining pesos since the exchange rate at home would be terrible.
As I boarded the flight to Miami, I found I was "blessed" with a new seat assignment and not a window which is the only way I can sleep on a flight. It was "because of some kids." The plane was packed so I hope those fricken rugrats enjoyed my seat. The flight was painful but tolerable. Once again the food was pretty good and I was able to at least doze a little bit.
The plane landed on time, and I double-timed it out to the concourse. Passport control was bonkers and quickly got bonkerser. If I hadn't gotten out of the plane quickly, I would have never made the final flight of my journey. I'm sure many people missed flights standing in a line which stretched for hours.
At least a few other larger planes landed around the same time - and I'm sure ICE knows when planes are scheduled to land - so it was troubling that there were only two ICE agents working and one was dedicated to the Global Entry (and once that line was empty he stopped taking people).
Then it was through the maze of Miami airport and security, watching my wristwatch all the while. But it did make it to the gate with just enough time before jumping on the final plane of this journey. The flight home was good and the wheels blessedly touched down on the tarmac of my home turf.
On an excursion that is relatively short in real-time, but immensely long in mental-time, it is a bit hard to think back to those first few hours just after Christmas when this Patagonian New Year was just starting. I suppose some adventures are awe-inspiring and some are transformative - this was the rare one which was both.
Being able to do this with my sisters, seeing my nephew as he helped maneuver through the foreign parts of foreign travel, meeting Abi and other Chileans, seeing amazing scenery, flora and fauna - I am unquestionably fortunate to have been able to do this and have it turn out the way it did.
It really is a huge amazing world out there.
We had some time before we went to the airport so I finished reading Back to Cape Horn by Rosie Swale. It tells of her travel by horseback down the length of Chile in the mid-1980's. I guess it is a good story, but it was also somewhere between troubling and pointless - these kind of books are often really good if there is a reason for the travel or if it explores history in some kind of new or even just relevant way. This was just a trip to write a book about; the reason was the end. The completion of the journey as a vanity passenger on a military ship was utterly pointless.
After a bit of a slow morning including a final brief walk about Abi's property, we headed out. We stopped by a store for some real empanadas and treats for the trip. Then it was off to the airport. Traffic was almost bad which was a first for the trip.
Whether I am ready to leave or not, it is time to head home. And I am at least partially ready to be home.
Once at the airport, I tried to check in. There was lots of furrowed brows before I was told that it was too early to check in. Old Sis was walking behind me and had a boarding pass so I asked again. More furrowed brows, "It says you missed the flight to Balmaceda? Your ticket is cancelled."
"I didn't miss my flight. I'm in Balmaceda."
"You can use the phone over there to call and see if this can be fixed."
I was not happy. My stomach suddenly hurt. My loathing of commercial air travel came back, compounded by being in a foreign country.
This led to just under and hour on the phone with Latam. At least the person I talked to was very helpful. I am very, very glad we got to the airport early so that Nephew could leave on his next adventure!
Problem solved and I went back to the counter and successfully checked in - with the minor hiccup of needing to fix my seat assignment for the flight to Miami since I paid for the extra leg room.
Every problem, no matter how nerve wracking, has a solution. Latam should realize that if I had waited to check in, there likely would not have been time to fix this and my flights would have been in permanent jeopardy.
Once through security, which was more like US security in the 1980's, we had a bit of time to wait until boarding the flight to Santiago. And I was blessed with an empty seat next to me.
On to Santiago where we had some time. We all tried to spend our remaining pesos since the exchange rate at home would be terrible.
As I boarded the flight to Miami, I found I was "blessed" with a new seat assignment and not a window which is the only way I can sleep on a flight. It was "because of some kids." The plane was packed so I hope those fricken rugrats enjoyed my seat. The flight was painful but tolerable. Once again the food was pretty good and I was able to at least doze a little bit.
The plane landed on time, and I double-timed it out to the concourse. Passport control was bonkers and quickly got bonkerser. If I hadn't gotten out of the plane quickly, I would have never made the final flight of my journey. I'm sure many people missed flights standing in a line which stretched for hours.
At least a few other larger planes landed around the same time - and I'm sure ICE knows when planes are scheduled to land - so it was troubling that there were only two ICE agents working and one was dedicated to the Global Entry (and once that line was empty he stopped taking people).
Then it was through the maze of Miami airport and security, watching my wristwatch all the while. But it did make it to the gate with just enough time before jumping on the final plane of this journey. The flight home was good and the wheels blessedly touched down on the tarmac of my home turf.
On an excursion that is relatively short in real-time, but immensely long in mental-time, it is a bit hard to think back to those first few hours just after Christmas when this Patagonian New Year was just starting. I suppose some adventures are awe-inspiring and some are transformative - this was the rare one which was both.
Being able to do this with my sisters, seeing my nephew as he helped maneuver through the foreign parts of foreign travel, meeting Abi and other Chileans, seeing amazing scenery, flora and fauna - I am unquestionably fortunate to have been able to do this and have it turn out the way it did.
It really is a huge amazing world out there.
Friday, January 3, 2020
Patagonian New Year Day 8 - Heading North
I woke up in the early morning to a howling wind. I knew we had hit the lottery over the previous several days, so it was almost refreshing to have Patagonia show more of its true self. The wind continued through the day - I'm glad we didn't have any hikes in the upper elevations or that we didn't choose to do the Marble Caves tour on a day with that much wind.
This is the last full day in Patagonia. It has been quite an adventure. I was thinking about the two guys Nephew and I talked to the previous night, and it brought some rumination. On one hand we were very fortunate that we had guiding hands in Nephew and Abi for the week - it made the difficult parts easier to navigate and brought us an immersive experience that would not have been otherwise possible. But while I'm glad I didn't have to try to communicate too much with my minimal Spanish, it would have been interesting to struggle with it. Sometimes struggle isn't the question, sometimes struggle is the answer.
I left my Spanish/American dictionary in the cabana when we left.
We all packed up and Abi picked us up around 10:00 to head north to see a bit more and be close to the airport. The Mitsubishi bumped along the rough road; there appeared to be more traffic than we had previously.
We stopped at one of the Paredon de Manos to see the painted hands on the wall. We first went through the museum showing a very early school for the area. It had been restored, and while the restoration was good, it would be hard to call it a faithful restoration with a metal grate second floor, plywood and cabling throughout. But it was mildly interesting. I especially like the actual boleadoras which were the traditional method for killing guanacos.
We headed down the path to the wall of the hands. There are several signs en route of various interest. One had a significant spelling mistake - I know I have my share of spelling mistakes in my native language and I wouldn't dare try to create signs in Spanish, but a public sign with an error (both mathematical and spelling) should probably be corrected as soon as possible. Either way, it is a bit troubling...
We got to the wall of hands and at first some of the hands were hard to see. There were both positive and negative hands. The signs along the way said they were not terribly old - only as old as 3000 years and they may have been still doing them in the 17th century.
Abi wonders if they were a school project to bring people in, and at this point I've learned to trust her. But given that I'll likely not have the ability to see these again, I'll suspend my skepticism for now. At best, they are barely prehistoric. But to be fair, it is believed that a small populations of mastodons still lived around 3000 years ago between present day Alaska and Russia. So by that logic mastodons aren't prehistoric either.
And one hand had either been vandalized, or it just looked plain fake.
We drove the short distance into Cerra Castillo and bought lunch at a bus restaurant. We've seen a few of these - restaurants made of discarded buses. The sandwiches were phenomenally good, especially the bread. It was funny to see a dog come on board the bus. He seemed to know exactly how far he could go without getting kicked off. My guess is that this does work for some free food sometimes. It almost worked this time.
I've eaten a lot of Chilean bread on this trip - loaves of bread are nearly unheard of since bread almost always comes as these flat, chewy bun-like individual breads. I used to make something like this for my lunches at work but haven't in years - perhaps I'll start again. (Or maybe I'll just continue to buy loaves since it is so much easier.)
Back on the road we drove into Coyhaique and to Abi's house in the hills above the city. She owns quite the property and an interesting house partially made out of old shipping containers. She has several horses and dogs as well. Her view of Coyhaique is amazing.
We went into town and into the main square. Walking around the tourist shops, I bought my boss a mate straw and am cooking up a story to tell him about mate. Although I may not actually give it to him? We'll see once I rotate back to the world.
As we were walking around, we saw the lady who we were on the glacier tour with. It is a small world - or vacations might be a little bit predictable?
I was also happy to see Monkey Puzzle trees. I've always thought these were really neat; I can't help but wonder if I could get them to grow at home?
We had dinner at a really good restaurant. With all the sheep I had seen over the previous days, I decided I needed to eat lamb and it was quite tasty. While walking around I had seen a really big dude get off a really small bike. I saw him again eating at the restaurant and noticed his colors were "Baguales" - Feral - Nice even if caricaturesque. Ice cream while walking back to the car rounded out the day.
We went back to Abi's house, ready for a final night in Patagonia.
This is the last full day in Patagonia. It has been quite an adventure. I was thinking about the two guys Nephew and I talked to the previous night, and it brought some rumination. On one hand we were very fortunate that we had guiding hands in Nephew and Abi for the week - it made the difficult parts easier to navigate and brought us an immersive experience that would not have been otherwise possible. But while I'm glad I didn't have to try to communicate too much with my minimal Spanish, it would have been interesting to struggle with it. Sometimes struggle isn't the question, sometimes struggle is the answer.
I left my Spanish/American dictionary in the cabana when we left.
We all packed up and Abi picked us up around 10:00 to head north to see a bit more and be close to the airport. The Mitsubishi bumped along the rough road; there appeared to be more traffic than we had previously.
We stopped at one of the Paredon de Manos to see the painted hands on the wall. We first went through the museum showing a very early school for the area. It had been restored, and while the restoration was good, it would be hard to call it a faithful restoration with a metal grate second floor, plywood and cabling throughout. But it was mildly interesting. I especially like the actual boleadoras which were the traditional method for killing guanacos.
We headed down the path to the wall of the hands. There are several signs en route of various interest. One had a significant spelling mistake - I know I have my share of spelling mistakes in my native language and I wouldn't dare try to create signs in Spanish, but a public sign with an error (both mathematical and spelling) should probably be corrected as soon as possible. Either way, it is a bit troubling...
We got to the wall of hands and at first some of the hands were hard to see. There were both positive and negative hands. The signs along the way said they were not terribly old - only as old as 3000 years and they may have been still doing them in the 17th century.
Abi wonders if they were a school project to bring people in, and at this point I've learned to trust her. But given that I'll likely not have the ability to see these again, I'll suspend my skepticism for now. At best, they are barely prehistoric. But to be fair, it is believed that a small populations of mastodons still lived around 3000 years ago between present day Alaska and Russia. So by that logic mastodons aren't prehistoric either.
And one hand had either been vandalized, or it just looked plain fake.
We drove the short distance into Cerra Castillo and bought lunch at a bus restaurant. We've seen a few of these - restaurants made of discarded buses. The sandwiches were phenomenally good, especially the bread. It was funny to see a dog come on board the bus. He seemed to know exactly how far he could go without getting kicked off. My guess is that this does work for some free food sometimes. It almost worked this time.
I've eaten a lot of Chilean bread on this trip - loaves of bread are nearly unheard of since bread almost always comes as these flat, chewy bun-like individual breads. I used to make something like this for my lunches at work but haven't in years - perhaps I'll start again. (Or maybe I'll just continue to buy loaves since it is so much easier.)
Back on the road we drove into Coyhaique and to Abi's house in the hills above the city. She owns quite the property and an interesting house partially made out of old shipping containers. She has several horses and dogs as well. Her view of Coyhaique is amazing.
We went into town and into the main square. Walking around the tourist shops, I bought my boss a mate straw and am cooking up a story to tell him about mate. Although I may not actually give it to him? We'll see once I rotate back to the world.
As we were walking around, we saw the lady who we were on the glacier tour with. It is a small world - or vacations might be a little bit predictable?
I was also happy to see Monkey Puzzle trees. I've always thought these were really neat; I can't help but wonder if I could get them to grow at home?
We had dinner at a really good restaurant. With all the sheep I had seen over the previous days, I decided I needed to eat lamb and it was quite tasty. While walking around I had seen a really big dude get off a really small bike. I saw him again eating at the restaurant and noticed his colors were "Baguales" - Feral - Nice even if caricaturesque. Ice cream while walking back to the car rounded out the day.
We went back to Abi's house, ready for a final night in Patagonia.
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Patagonian New Year Day 7 - Gaucho Day (and Water Day)
It is New Year's Day in Chile! Actually it is New Year's Day everywhere.
And that was evident in the morning since the party was still going on. When I went to bed the previous night I wore ear plugs. That was obviously the right decision, and as it was I was woken up by the hootinany around 12:30. But that is to be expected on New Years. I was surprised to still hear the commotion in the morning though.
Abi picked us up and we headed back to the Ocampo. Old Sis was a little under the weather and has some kind of allergic reaction to horses, so Young Sis, Nephew and I were going to ride horses. First they had to be caught, which means trying to fake out horses who have been caught many times in the past. But the horses were relatively agreeable and we got the four horses Abi wanted. Then we spent time brushing them and getting them saddled and bridled for riding.
I was riding Pansi who "is quite lazy and very fat." Sorry Pansi, I am too...
Once we were all ready to go we headed up into the same area where our hike was on Day 4. The horses made much shorter work of the elevation climb, but they were really huffing during the climb. At least Pansi was, plus he wanted to stop and eat a few times - so much lush green grass.
The horse ride continued on an abbreviated version of the Day 4 hike. Again, the views did not disappoint.
I really enjoyed the horses since it was much less prescriptive than other horse rides I've been on. But since Pansi was fat, the saddle kept feeling like it was rotating to the left. I could "stomp" it to the right which only helped temporarily.
Abi gave me chaps to use before we left which felt a little silly at first. I've learned to trust her though and I was glad I had them since the brush and thorns would have torn me up as I was wearing shorts. It was eye opening to see how much the horses had to work going up the steep hills and how much they had to brace going down. The horses did more work than I did, but it wasn't necessarily easy in the rugged terrain.
I'm also convinced that gauchos probably don't have testicles...
We got back to the pasture and took the saddles off. I had always heard that horses are one of the few animals that sweat and that was evident in the already heating day. The combination of sweat and dust on Abi's nearly white horse was telling.
Once let loose in the pasture, the horses did their best to get ride of the scourge of humans by taking refreshing dust baths.
Next up was some kayaking. We headed to a smaller lake and had another lunch of Chilean bread, tuna and whatever else we wanted. Then we aired up the inflatable kayaks and pushed out.
The females were on one kayak, while Nephew and I were in the other to do some fishing.
We fished Chilean style which means no rod or reel, just a roll of heavy line on a cylinder. In the lake proper, we didn't catch anything or see anything. But the water was once again amazingly clear - I'm sure I could see at least 15 feet down. As for future fishing, I'll still choose a pole any day over this method. But apparently it does work for them.
With the fishing unsuccessful, we headed to the stream and tried to fish there. We had a few bites (maybe), but didn't catch anything. Some other tourists came through and asked if we were fishing and catching anything; since they spoke Spanish, I'm really not sure what they said.
We paddled back and loaded everything up, dropping it off at the Ocampo before heading back into PRT.
The one thing PRT is known for, and what everyone does - often the only thing - is the boat tour of the Marble Caves, Marble Cathedral and Marble Chapel. This is the tour that is sold to any tourists on entering the town by just about any means. This ended up being the last thing we did in PRT.
We walked down to the booking area where a friend of Abi's is based. We paid for the tour and walked the short distance to be picked up by the boat. There was another family of four on the tour plus one other English-speaking lady. And we were off.
It is about 20 minutes to the caves from the dock. They can be seen as the boat approaches. They didn't appear as dramatic as I thought from any kind of distance.
Once up close, the dramatic formations are stunning.
The boat took us into a blind cave. I wanted a picture from the front, so I moved up to get that picture. I only meant to stay until that was done, but I ended up sitting there the rest of the tour. I felt a little bad about this.
There are several banks of caves. They are slightly different, but only slightly.
The caves were formed by erosion of the marble over time by wind and waves.
It was interesting to see how some minerals are eroded much more readily than others.
I especially liked the pillar formation of the caves.
Another set of pillars.
I had read that early morning has the best light - which is probably correct. But even in the afternoon it was pretty nice. Although we were blessed with blue bird skies and hot temperatures since the ever present wind and cold can make it less fun from what I've read.
The last stop on the tour was the Marble Chapel which was almost more dramatic far away than close up. Apparently some people do actually get married at the "chapel."
Then it was back to the dock. The Marble Caves were really pretty. The tour is a bit oversold, but it is still worth it. I wish there was a way to do a longer visit on my own time, but there isn't. There is a tour done from kayaks, but it only sees a small part of the caves.
Dinner was another scrumptious Chilean feast of lentils, pumpkin and pasta, followed by the obligatory dessert. Conversation turned quickly to plans for the next day.
After dinner Nephew and I decided to give Chilean fishing one more shot. We grabbed our PVC pipe and line and headed to the creek near the cabana. The worms smelled quite awful and had dissolved. I found a decent slug and decided to try it. The rest of the slugs were almost as bad as the worms. After a few false starts on a bridge, I "cast" beneath the bridge, using a rock as a weight. On the second attempt I had a bite and brought up a reasonably decent trout. Strike one for Patagonian fishing. I sadly didn't have the camera so the only picture is on Nephew's phone.
We found some more worms up the road and tried for a little longer without success. Several local people gave us a thumbs up or waved while we fished. Two guys from Santiago came by and one of them spoke good English. He asked if we had a license to fish (gulp), but told us of another place to try. It was just a short walk from the cabana and while the view was quite pretty with a raging waterfall, the fishing was not successful. As it got dark, we headed back to call it a day.
And that was evident in the morning since the party was still going on. When I went to bed the previous night I wore ear plugs. That was obviously the right decision, and as it was I was woken up by the hootinany around 12:30. But that is to be expected on New Years. I was surprised to still hear the commotion in the morning though.
Abi picked us up and we headed back to the Ocampo. Old Sis was a little under the weather and has some kind of allergic reaction to horses, so Young Sis, Nephew and I were going to ride horses. First they had to be caught, which means trying to fake out horses who have been caught many times in the past. But the horses were relatively agreeable and we got the four horses Abi wanted. Then we spent time brushing them and getting them saddled and bridled for riding.
I was riding Pansi who "is quite lazy and very fat." Sorry Pansi, I am too...
Once we were all ready to go we headed up into the same area where our hike was on Day 4. The horses made much shorter work of the elevation climb, but they were really huffing during the climb. At least Pansi was, plus he wanted to stop and eat a few times - so much lush green grass.
The horse ride continued on an abbreviated version of the Day 4 hike. Again, the views did not disappoint.
I really enjoyed the horses since it was much less prescriptive than other horse rides I've been on. But since Pansi was fat, the saddle kept feeling like it was rotating to the left. I could "stomp" it to the right which only helped temporarily.
Abi gave me chaps to use before we left which felt a little silly at first. I've learned to trust her though and I was glad I had them since the brush and thorns would have torn me up as I was wearing shorts. It was eye opening to see how much the horses had to work going up the steep hills and how much they had to brace going down. The horses did more work than I did, but it wasn't necessarily easy in the rugged terrain.
I'm also convinced that gauchos probably don't have testicles...
We got back to the pasture and took the saddles off. I had always heard that horses are one of the few animals that sweat and that was evident in the already heating day. The combination of sweat and dust on Abi's nearly white horse was telling.
Once let loose in the pasture, the horses did their best to get ride of the scourge of humans by taking refreshing dust baths.
Next up was some kayaking. We headed to a smaller lake and had another lunch of Chilean bread, tuna and whatever else we wanted. Then we aired up the inflatable kayaks and pushed out.
The females were on one kayak, while Nephew and I were in the other to do some fishing.
We fished Chilean style which means no rod or reel, just a roll of heavy line on a cylinder. In the lake proper, we didn't catch anything or see anything. But the water was once again amazingly clear - I'm sure I could see at least 15 feet down. As for future fishing, I'll still choose a pole any day over this method. But apparently it does work for them.
With the fishing unsuccessful, we headed to the stream and tried to fish there. We had a few bites (maybe), but didn't catch anything. Some other tourists came through and asked if we were fishing and catching anything; since they spoke Spanish, I'm really not sure what they said.
We paddled back and loaded everything up, dropping it off at the Ocampo before heading back into PRT.
The one thing PRT is known for, and what everyone does - often the only thing - is the boat tour of the Marble Caves, Marble Cathedral and Marble Chapel. This is the tour that is sold to any tourists on entering the town by just about any means. This ended up being the last thing we did in PRT.
We walked down to the booking area where a friend of Abi's is based. We paid for the tour and walked the short distance to be picked up by the boat. There was another family of four on the tour plus one other English-speaking lady. And we were off.
It is about 20 minutes to the caves from the dock. They can be seen as the boat approaches. They didn't appear as dramatic as I thought from any kind of distance.
Once up close, the dramatic formations are stunning.
The boat took us into a blind cave. I wanted a picture from the front, so I moved up to get that picture. I only meant to stay until that was done, but I ended up sitting there the rest of the tour. I felt a little bad about this.
There are several banks of caves. They are slightly different, but only slightly.
The caves were formed by erosion of the marble over time by wind and waves.
It was interesting to see how some minerals are eroded much more readily than others.
I especially liked the pillar formation of the caves.
Another set of pillars.
I had read that early morning has the best light - which is probably correct. But even in the afternoon it was pretty nice. Although we were blessed with blue bird skies and hot temperatures since the ever present wind and cold can make it less fun from what I've read.
The last stop on the tour was the Marble Chapel which was almost more dramatic far away than close up. Apparently some people do actually get married at the "chapel."
Then it was back to the dock. The Marble Caves were really pretty. The tour is a bit oversold, but it is still worth it. I wish there was a way to do a longer visit on my own time, but there isn't. There is a tour done from kayaks, but it only sees a small part of the caves.
Dinner was another scrumptious Chilean feast of lentils, pumpkin and pasta, followed by the obligatory dessert. Conversation turned quickly to plans for the next day.
After dinner Nephew and I decided to give Chilean fishing one more shot. We grabbed our PVC pipe and line and headed to the creek near the cabana. The worms smelled quite awful and had dissolved. I found a decent slug and decided to try it. The rest of the slugs were almost as bad as the worms. After a few false starts on a bridge, I "cast" beneath the bridge, using a rock as a weight. On the second attempt I had a bite and brought up a reasonably decent trout. Strike one for Patagonian fishing. I sadly didn't have the camera so the only picture is on Nephew's phone.
We found some more worms up the road and tried for a little longer without success. Several local people gave us a thumbs up or waved while we fished. Two guys from Santiago came by and one of them spoke good English. He asked if we had a license to fish (gulp), but told us of another place to try. It was just a short walk from the cabana and while the view was quite pretty with a raging waterfall, the fishing was not successful. As it got dark, we headed back to call it a day.
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