Well, the big day came and it's time for this Old Geezer to go on a combo pig/Vancouver bull hunt with young Nic Barca, back in the middle of Absolutely Nowhere, USA. Before I start my story, let me make a few observations, now that 15 hours have elapsed since I dragged my totally-whipped butt back to the truck at the end of the physically most difficult day of my life, my pack and Nic's pack full of pork and beef. Friends, Nic doesn't walk through the jungle, he glides, effortlessly, at about 10 miles per hour. I come to a huge, slippery fallen log blocking the "trail" and sit on it, swing one leg a time over it, slide down the far side on my butt, and usually fall flat on my face once my boots hit the earth. I'm not sure what Nic does, it happens so fast. One second he's on one side of the fallen log and then the next second he's on the other, gliding along at 10 miles per hour. I can actually keep up with Nic, as long as the total distance covered on the entire hike is less than 50 yards. And if Nic has a broken leg. No, make that two broken legs.
Nuff said and now on to the hunt.
I met Nic at the Wailuku River Road promptly at 4:00 AM on Saturday. We hopped into my truck and limped along a tough 4WD road, fording a running-board deep slough on the way to the river. We loaded our packs, shouldered our guns, turned on our headlamps, and were off into the Great Unknown. Nic assured me that there was a trail to follow. Now let me explain what Nic means by a trail. He means that something, Man or Beast, at sometime in the past 1000 years had traveled over a particular piece of real estate, and that we are going to follow in the footsteps or hoofsteps of that creature. Nic began swinging his machete in the pitch blackness, carving out a tunnel through the jungle. We hiked up and down and over and under and forded the river and hopscotched along slippery river rocks and fell in the mud and did other really fun things in the inky blackness using only our LED headlamps for guidance. Now, as great a woodsman as Nic is [and he's as good as they come], I must say at this juncture that I have two things on Nic---36 years and 40 pounds around the midsection. I was taking a beating and he was just getting warmed up. Soon the sun came up which helped me a lot because I was now able to see the ground rushing up at my face everytime I slipped and fell. After a couple hours we came to some grassy areas along the river that were loaded with pig sign. A couple small black pigs scurried through the grass in front of us but Nic didn't take the shot because he was concerned about spooking any bulls in the area and I didn't take the shot because I was going into cardiac arrest.
We continued upriver, jumping along the river rocks or climbing up the vertical, snot-slick banks through evil vegetation tangles and then making our way through the jungle, sort of following the "trails" and zigzagging along. At 10:00 AM we came to the Morita Camp area [I hiked there a couple of weeks ago] and crossed the river. My butt was really whupped by this point and even Nic began to show the signs of fatigue. He no longer glided throught he forest effortlessly at 10 miles an hour. He now glided through the forest effortlessly at only 9 1/2 miles an hour. We hiked inland and then up the river for a couple more hours. At noon, we heard the bellow of a bull, no farther away than 200 yards. Nic held up his hand and pointed off to the left. I could hear noise in the brush. I was carrying a Marlin 1895 45/70 with a detachable scope, full of really hot handloads. Nic turned on the video camera and I moved forward slowly, trying to see something through the thick trees. Nic stepped on a dry branch and the noise sent a bull thundering through the forest. I saw the bull running from left to right and I quickly moved forward, trying to find an opening in the trees. The bull was moving fast and just as he came to a small opening I threw up my rifle and took a shot. I could see the bull's tail go straight back and he hunched over at the shot. Nic got the entire sequence on video and I'm sure you'll see it later [and take my word for it, it's worth seeing---Nic is really a top-rate photographer]. Nic heard the bullet hit and I felt it was a good shot, but we wisely waited a couple minutes before following up. I hunted around for the blood trail and while I was doing that, Nic just walked up to where the blood trail began and started following it. The blood trail was thick and looked to me like a heart shot. We followed and saw the bull lying 40 feet ahead. We made sure it was dead and then walked up. Man, that was some big animal! We took the photos and then began the butchering job. It was impossible to move it and was difficult to roll it over even partially. The first photo is of me and the bull and the second is of Nic butchering the bull. Nic was very methodical and scientific in the way he tackled the butchering job, reminding me of Dr. G performing an autopsy. He followed the path of the bullet and recovered the copper jacket. Then he stuck his arm into the chest cavity, dug around a moment, and pulled out the heart. The slug had torn the bottom third of the heart away, a really lucky shot under the circumstances. We loaded up the best cuts and headed off.
We hiked around a couple more hours and then started back toward Morita Camp. Pig sign was thick---more than I'ver ever seen anywhere in my life. Nic suddenly threw his 20 gauge pump up to his shoulder and fired. I limped/stumbled/fell/staggered forward and saw a fat boar lying on its side, a perfect shoulder shot. Nic did all the work while I did my best to ward off cardiovascular collapse. Nic kindly put all the pork in his pack and off we went. I was now out of water and so was Nic. We arrived at Morita Camp at about 3:15 and took a 15 minute break. 15 minutes never passed so quickly in the history of the universe. Up on our feet and then a retrace of the upriver hike that morning. I was so slow that I held Nic back. He was a bit whipped, too, and had slowed to 9 miles per hour, a crawl by his standards. We finally had to put on our headlamps and follow the "trail" in the dark. We arrived at the truck at 7:15 PM, 14 hours after we began our adventure. I can honestly say that I have never, ever been so exhausted. I think Nic may have been a little tired, but I'm not sure. I drank 4 canteens of water during the drive back to my house, having run out of water when we rested at Morita Camp, with 4 hours of hike left to go.
The following photos are of Nic and his boar, Nic walking through the jungle, a waterfall which shows typical river scenery, me and the bull, and then Nic butchering the bull. That last photo does a good job of showing the size of the beast.
That's it for now. I have to check in either at the Intensive Care Unit or the mortuary, depending upon how I feel.
Nuff said and now on to the hunt.
I met Nic at the Wailuku River Road promptly at 4:00 AM on Saturday. We hopped into my truck and limped along a tough 4WD road, fording a running-board deep slough on the way to the river. We loaded our packs, shouldered our guns, turned on our headlamps, and were off into the Great Unknown. Nic assured me that there was a trail to follow. Now let me explain what Nic means by a trail. He means that something, Man or Beast, at sometime in the past 1000 years had traveled over a particular piece of real estate, and that we are going to follow in the footsteps or hoofsteps of that creature. Nic began swinging his machete in the pitch blackness, carving out a tunnel through the jungle. We hiked up and down and over and under and forded the river and hopscotched along slippery river rocks and fell in the mud and did other really fun things in the inky blackness using only our LED headlamps for guidance. Now, as great a woodsman as Nic is [and he's as good as they come], I must say at this juncture that I have two things on Nic---36 years and 40 pounds around the midsection. I was taking a beating and he was just getting warmed up. Soon the sun came up which helped me a lot because I was now able to see the ground rushing up at my face everytime I slipped and fell. After a couple hours we came to some grassy areas along the river that were loaded with pig sign. A couple small black pigs scurried through the grass in front of us but Nic didn't take the shot because he was concerned about spooking any bulls in the area and I didn't take the shot because I was going into cardiac arrest.
We continued upriver, jumping along the river rocks or climbing up the vertical, snot-slick banks through evil vegetation tangles and then making our way through the jungle, sort of following the "trails" and zigzagging along. At 10:00 AM we came to the Morita Camp area [I hiked there a couple of weeks ago] and crossed the river. My butt was really whupped by this point and even Nic began to show the signs of fatigue. He no longer glided throught he forest effortlessly at 10 miles an hour. He now glided through the forest effortlessly at only 9 1/2 miles an hour. We hiked inland and then up the river for a couple more hours. At noon, we heard the bellow of a bull, no farther away than 200 yards. Nic held up his hand and pointed off to the left. I could hear noise in the brush. I was carrying a Marlin 1895 45/70 with a detachable scope, full of really hot handloads. Nic turned on the video camera and I moved forward slowly, trying to see something through the thick trees. Nic stepped on a dry branch and the noise sent a bull thundering through the forest. I saw the bull running from left to right and I quickly moved forward, trying to find an opening in the trees. The bull was moving fast and just as he came to a small opening I threw up my rifle and took a shot. I could see the bull's tail go straight back and he hunched over at the shot. Nic got the entire sequence on video and I'm sure you'll see it later [and take my word for it, it's worth seeing---Nic is really a top-rate photographer]. Nic heard the bullet hit and I felt it was a good shot, but we wisely waited a couple minutes before following up. I hunted around for the blood trail and while I was doing that, Nic just walked up to where the blood trail began and started following it. The blood trail was thick and looked to me like a heart shot. We followed and saw the bull lying 40 feet ahead. We made sure it was dead and then walked up. Man, that was some big animal! We took the photos and then began the butchering job. It was impossible to move it and was difficult to roll it over even partially. The first photo is of me and the bull and the second is of Nic butchering the bull. Nic was very methodical and scientific in the way he tackled the butchering job, reminding me of Dr. G performing an autopsy. He followed the path of the bullet and recovered the copper jacket. Then he stuck his arm into the chest cavity, dug around a moment, and pulled out the heart. The slug had torn the bottom third of the heart away, a really lucky shot under the circumstances. We loaded up the best cuts and headed off.
We hiked around a couple more hours and then started back toward Morita Camp. Pig sign was thick---more than I'ver ever seen anywhere in my life. Nic suddenly threw his 20 gauge pump up to his shoulder and fired. I limped/stumbled/fell/staggered forward and saw a fat boar lying on its side, a perfect shoulder shot. Nic did all the work while I did my best to ward off cardiovascular collapse. Nic kindly put all the pork in his pack and off we went. I was now out of water and so was Nic. We arrived at Morita Camp at about 3:15 and took a 15 minute break. 15 minutes never passed so quickly in the history of the universe. Up on our feet and then a retrace of the upriver hike that morning. I was so slow that I held Nic back. He was a bit whipped, too, and had slowed to 9 miles per hour, a crawl by his standards. We finally had to put on our headlamps and follow the "trail" in the dark. We arrived at the truck at 7:15 PM, 14 hours after we began our adventure. I can honestly say that I have never, ever been so exhausted. I think Nic may have been a little tired, but I'm not sure. I drank 4 canteens of water during the drive back to my house, having run out of water when we rested at Morita Camp, with 4 hours of hike left to go.
The following photos are of Nic and his boar, Nic walking through the jungle, a waterfall which shows typical river scenery, me and the bull, and then Nic butchering the bull. That last photo does a good job of showing the size of the beast.
That's it for now. I have to check in either at the Intensive Care Unit or the mortuary, depending upon how I feel.
