Monday, April 23, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
for sally
my most favorite thirteen words:
"do you suppose we could continue today's conversation over a glass of wine...?"
sally - to me, when it all started....
"do you suppose we could continue today's conversation over a glass of wine...?"
sally - to me, when it all started....
Saturday, April 21, 2012
the big five
i have arranged them in order - from least to most dangerous, based on my experience.
black rhino - dumb and blind. also, not able to absorb much punishment bullet wise. i was charged several times, usually in thick bush, and, after the first time, avoided the rush quite easily. perhaps the dumbest of all charged our hunting car and pressed on even as we backed quickly away. sadly, this prehistoric monster has been poached almost to extinction and no longer enlivens a hunt for other game. we did not pursue them.
elephant - magnificent, electrifying to hunt and family oriented. also extremely intelligent and as a result more interested in making its escape than confronting. however, very dangerous if wounded because of its great strength, toughness, and cleverness.
leopard - far and away my favorite beast. one of the few truly cruel animals - like the weasel and ratel - which will sometimes kill just for pleasure. an extraordinarily wild and fearsome sight when it appears, as if by magic, on the limb below your bait. fast and violent to the extreme if wounded...absolutely will charge its tormentors - always from nearby...impossible to see in heavy cover because of its perfectly camouflaged coat. a very worthy adversary.
cape buffalo - wounded it is the hunter's worst nightmare for, when followed up, it will often let its stalkers pass by and attack from behind. very difficult to kill once its adrenaline is flowing and extremely vengeful. will press its charge even when hit many times by heavy bullets.
lion - by far the strongest and fastest animal of its size in the group [it can and often does kill cape buffalo - though mostly the old and infirm], and thinks nothing of jumping into a native corral to kill a cow then jumping back out with the dead animal in its jaws. a charging, lightly wounded lion is a true force of nature. it can cover a hundred yards in five seconds or so, bounding through the long grass, or close to the ground on open plain. be damn sure you brain it or its final leap - as much as thirty feet - will be fatal in the mauling you receive. a lion's hunting roar in the darkest hours of an african night is a sound you will never forget.
black rhino - dumb and blind. also, not able to absorb much punishment bullet wise. i was charged several times, usually in thick bush, and, after the first time, avoided the rush quite easily. perhaps the dumbest of all charged our hunting car and pressed on even as we backed quickly away. sadly, this prehistoric monster has been poached almost to extinction and no longer enlivens a hunt for other game. we did not pursue them.
elephant - magnificent, electrifying to hunt and family oriented. also extremely intelligent and as a result more interested in making its escape than confronting. however, very dangerous if wounded because of its great strength, toughness, and cleverness.
leopard - far and away my favorite beast. one of the few truly cruel animals - like the weasel and ratel - which will sometimes kill just for pleasure. an extraordinarily wild and fearsome sight when it appears, as if by magic, on the limb below your bait. fast and violent to the extreme if wounded...absolutely will charge its tormentors - always from nearby...impossible to see in heavy cover because of its perfectly camouflaged coat. a very worthy adversary.
cape buffalo - wounded it is the hunter's worst nightmare for, when followed up, it will often let its stalkers pass by and attack from behind. very difficult to kill once its adrenaline is flowing and extremely vengeful. will press its charge even when hit many times by heavy bullets.
lion - by far the strongest and fastest animal of its size in the group [it can and often does kill cape buffalo - though mostly the old and infirm], and thinks nothing of jumping into a native corral to kill a cow then jumping back out with the dead animal in its jaws. a charging, lightly wounded lion is a true force of nature. it can cover a hundred yards in five seconds or so, bounding through the long grass, or close to the ground on open plain. be damn sure you brain it or its final leap - as much as thirty feet - will be fatal in the mauling you receive. a lion's hunting roar in the darkest hours of an african night is a sound you will never forget.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
1605 metres
that's right...just under a mile, how high mount katahdin, in maine north of millinocket, stands. i've been to its apex, baxter peak, five times - aged ten to fourteen, trips exceeded in excitement only by my african safari in 1971.
at camp baldy we "trained" for the big climb by running out to the bog and back - about a mile - [in those days you could walk out the back door of camp and not cross a road until you hit the canadian border, about 70 miles] carrying old army backpacks filled, sometimes with stones, mostly with just blankets and messkits.
katahdin itself was hidden beyond the foothills when we arrived by car at the roaring brook ranger's station some miles north of millinocket and the starting point for our three mile climb to chimney pond. it was from that camp we'd begin our ascent of the mountain.
chimney pond, a crystal clear, circular mountain tarn, lay at the base of the "chimney" an ascent to baxter peak which only - it was alleged - experienced, well equipped mountain climbers could master. at age ten, looking up from the rocky shore i was convinced of that truth and shivered slightly at the thought of all those ropes and pitons and picks and rock axes it would take to get to the top. but, not to worry, there were easier ways.
first we had to establish our campsite.
the hike from the roaring brook base was mostly uphill over three ridges, broken only by a stop at long pond where some previous traveler - or ranger - had hung a tin cup on a nail in a post so that we could quench our thirst. [can you imagine doing that today...water straight from the pond.] the chimney pond camp consisted of one bunk house, which we ignored, and several leantos, one of which we chose. i'm sure there were latrines but i don't recall, my memory being selective.
besides the "chimney" there were three approaches to the peak - the saddle trail, easiest but longest - the cathedral trail, marked by three thousand-odd foot "cathedrals" or steps - and the dudley trail, off which there was a cave said to be a holy place by the local indians. we used the first two as approaches and the last for our descents. the saddle and cathedral ended on a wide mountain plateau which led to baxter peak. from there to the beginning of the dudley one had to cross the half mile " knife edge" a narrow trail skirting the chimney wall on the left and a vast, steep field of mountain scree on the right.
man, this was exciting stuff for a ten year old kid.
we fairly ran up and down the mountain for the next two days wearing shorts and t-shirts, stumbling around in our new l.l. bean moccasins, flannel shirts tied around our waists. nobody fell off any of the imposing cathedrals, we did cartwheels [much to our counselors horror] on knife edge, and clambered down dudley without stirring up any of the ancient storm gods of indian legend. and nobody, but nobody, wore a helmet, knee pads, gloves, or a bullet proof vest.
no camper was ever injured - and i did it five times. oh, and there were girls along, too.
at camp baldy we "trained" for the big climb by running out to the bog and back - about a mile - [in those days you could walk out the back door of camp and not cross a road until you hit the canadian border, about 70 miles] carrying old army backpacks filled, sometimes with stones, mostly with just blankets and messkits.
katahdin itself was hidden beyond the foothills when we arrived by car at the roaring brook ranger's station some miles north of millinocket and the starting point for our three mile climb to chimney pond. it was from that camp we'd begin our ascent of the mountain.
chimney pond, a crystal clear, circular mountain tarn, lay at the base of the "chimney" an ascent to baxter peak which only - it was alleged - experienced, well equipped mountain climbers could master. at age ten, looking up from the rocky shore i was convinced of that truth and shivered slightly at the thought of all those ropes and pitons and picks and rock axes it would take to get to the top. but, not to worry, there were easier ways.
first we had to establish our campsite.
the hike from the roaring brook base was mostly uphill over three ridges, broken only by a stop at long pond where some previous traveler - or ranger - had hung a tin cup on a nail in a post so that we could quench our thirst. [can you imagine doing that today...water straight from the pond.] the chimney pond camp consisted of one bunk house, which we ignored, and several leantos, one of which we chose. i'm sure there were latrines but i don't recall, my memory being selective.
besides the "chimney" there were three approaches to the peak - the saddle trail, easiest but longest - the cathedral trail, marked by three thousand-odd foot "cathedrals" or steps - and the dudley trail, off which there was a cave said to be a holy place by the local indians. we used the first two as approaches and the last for our descents. the saddle and cathedral ended on a wide mountain plateau which led to baxter peak. from there to the beginning of the dudley one had to cross the half mile " knife edge" a narrow trail skirting the chimney wall on the left and a vast, steep field of mountain scree on the right.
man, this was exciting stuff for a ten year old kid.
we fairly ran up and down the mountain for the next two days wearing shorts and t-shirts, stumbling around in our new l.l. bean moccasins, flannel shirts tied around our waists. nobody fell off any of the imposing cathedrals, we did cartwheels [much to our counselors horror] on knife edge, and clambered down dudley without stirring up any of the ancient storm gods of indian legend. and nobody, but nobody, wore a helmet, knee pads, gloves, or a bullet proof vest.
no camper was ever injured - and i did it five times. oh, and there were girls along, too.
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