A Little Crazy Helps A Lot

In the pursuit of just about any game animal, you must understand thier habitat and how they move through it.  A few years ago I thought about my own habitat and started thinking about how we adapt for it.  Our lives are swaddled in cumfort and ease.  Which is great, but I don't ever want to lose that animal side of me....the blood instinct side of me.  We all know how imperative excersize is, but for me it's more therapy than excersize.  Last year I trained very hard to complete my 1st 1/2 marathon (13.1 miles).  I finished with a time of  1:59:15.  I was excited to have finished in under 2 hours!  At the end of the race I became quite emotional as I thought about how hard I trained for so long and to see the result.  I immediately registered for the full marathon (26.2 miles) for 2011.  I really never stopped training so I had a bit of a head start.  I love running.  I find my pace and get lost in my thoughts.  The race was set for January 16th and as the date neared I was excited.  All the running, all the lifting I had done leads up to this one challenge, this one moment.  That is the exciting part.  Race morning found me up at 4 am stretching, hydrating, and focusing on the 26.2 miles ahead of me.  Dad picked me up early and headed to the race.  The crack of the gun at 7:40 am couldn't come fast enough, I  was ready!  I started on my way trying to keep a 9: 40 minute/mile pace.  I had braces on due to knee issues I had been having. I felt great and stayed in my pace until about mile 20.  I had starting feeling my left knee tighten and was starting to get a little concerned.  After stopping for water I got back on the track and was horrified to find I couldn't bend my left knee.  It was excrutiating pain and I became angry and terrified that I would not be able to continue.  I would NOT let that happen.  I got back on course and basically started throwing my left leg in front of me trying to get it going.  After about a quarter mile it finally loosened up but the pain was very bad.  I grit my teeth and thought about all the time I spent working out and training.  I WILL finish. I focused on each stride and willed myself along.  Towards the finish line I had entered a zone in my head I rarely see.  It's kind of like watching gears turn.  The human body is a perfect machine.  It must be maintaned.  All the training I had done seemed not for the full 26.2 miles but rather the last 6.  The encouraging words of my family and determination helped me push past the pain.  Just about to the finish line I looked up out of my inner thoughts (and through a little desperation) and saw my family cheering me on.  Those cheers pushed me right over the finish line!  My goal was to finish under 5 hours.  I finished with a time of 4 hrs 14 mins and 39 seconds!  The loud pain of my knee was muted by the hugs and smiles of my family (& a little ice).  It's hard to describe the emotions I felt.  It felt like the end of a very long journey ( longer than 26 miles ).  It is a feeling of setting a lofty goal, working hard, and finally succeeding.  I know why people trek to Everest or K2.  The challenge sings a siren song to be answered by your inner will. 

Authors Note:  Without those to guide us.......we are lost.  Special thanks to : Dad for always encouraging me and all the helpful advice, Mom for that always special hug and smile when I need it, and all my brothers and sisters who keep me moving foward.

Death of A Friend, Birth of A Legend

Gunisson (April 2001 - January 2011)

As we travel down lifes' path we encounter dark tunnels and it becomes hard to see the trail.  Friends are like candles that help illuminate the way.  My dog Gunnison was one of those candles in my life.  As a boy, like most boys, I dreamt of having that loyal companion, that dog that would follow me anywhere with a canine grin.  Ofcourse, books like "Where the Red Fern Grows" and movies like "Old Yeller" just added a little fuel to the fire.  We have had a couple family dogs and each one of them burned a special place in each one of our hearts.  "Buttercup" was our first dog, a minature schnauser who fit right in with the family.  She was a cute little pistol that could bring a smile to anyones face.  Later on, "Damsel" became part of our family.  Damsel was an absolute canine angel.  She was named after a Damsel Fly, which is a pattern we use fly fishing.  The name fit too. That dog racked up some serious fly fishing hours!  I think she fished with my dad and brother more than I did!  Damsel loved going on trips with the family.  We never needed a leash with her.  We would fish for hours and she would explore but always keep us in hearing distance.  Gunnison got alot of his adventurous loyalty from his mother.  I recall the day he was born.  I had just gotten home from GCC where I was taking classes at the time.  Mom met me at the door and said Damsel was ready to deliver and had been waiting for me to get home.  As soon as I walked over to her, she settled in to her welping box.  The first puppy got stuck and had to be hand delivered.  That stuck puppy was Gunnison. (I named him Gunnison after the Gunnison River, Colorado where the family would spend a couple weeks each summer.)  He came out backwards and completely snow white.  I hadn't really planned on keeping any of the pups, but I was melted by that snowy little fur ball.  As a puppy he was the biggest goof.  He loved to tear up paper towels and then just give me his signature goofy grin.  Gunny went with me everywhere I could take him.  Like his mother, he was truely an outdoorsmans' dog.  One of my favorite early memories of Gunny is fishing Lime Creek in Colorado.  Gunny was having a blast getting in my way as I was trying to cast or trying to figure out where the heck that chipmunk went.  There were alot of deadfalls and rocks we had to navigate going down stream.  Fishing was good and I had stopped paying attention to Gunny.  After releasing a fish, I turn and look for Gunny. No sign so I call his name a couple times knowing he'll be by shortly.  I return to fishing a productive white water run.  As I was casting I notice a white fuzz ball struggling in the white water and rapidly heading downstream.  I dropped my rod and ran downstream and into the frigid water.  I waded up to my chest and my waders filled with water as I grab the neck scruff of a rafting canine.  Apparently Gunnison decided that climbing logs was too much effort and thought the creek would be more efficient. Goof.  Gunny also loved bird hunting with me.  I remember shooting a dove quite a ways out in some really tall grass.  Gunny took off for the retrieve at mach speed.  Just before he got to where the bird went down I saw all the grass and bushes lay down.  Gunnison had run right into a wire fence at full speed!  He picked himself up and gave me what I thought was an embarassed look and continued after the bird.  Goof.  I've been through some tough times and that is where Gunny would truely shine.  He was always by my side.  He always pried a smile from me.  He will always be my boy.  I'm finding it hard to continue writing.  Sometimes there just aren't enough words.  I am so thankful to have had Gunny in my life.  I believe even a dog can mold and shape a persons character.  Gunny helped me see the lighter side of things.  Perhaps the candle has burned out but Gunnison still continues to illuminate my life.  I miss you so much Gunny Boy.  You will always be a legend like in the books or movies to me.

A Carnivorous Start for 2011





Preparing Our Lethal Injection





 



"You're gonna feel a pinch..."





This New Year's eve I was reflecting on this past year and what 2011 might bring.  I thought about goals I achieved, goals I didn't, goals to set for 2011, memories of friends and family, and the places I've been this year.  I planned on making one more great memory of 2010.  My best friend Taylor & I decided to have our first pig roast (properly refered to as a Pig Pikin').  Now I was born in North Carolina and some of my earliest memories are of a pig pikin' at our family reunion.  I remember the smells and the smiles on the faces of relatives as they caught up with each other or laughed remembering past hijinx. And who could forget all that great food!  I wanted to bring back those unforgetable Carolina smells and make new memories with my friends and family to bring in the new year.  Taylor was excited as was I.  We researched technique and recipes for days.  Roasting a 60 lb pig is no small undertaking.  I was surprised at the pressure I felt to make this a success, not only for everyone who would attend, but for Taylor.  Taylor provided his backyard for the event and we both worked very hard getting prepared.  We secured a 52.1 lb pig and a motorized spit.  I don't mind  a little hard work, but I couldn't imagine turning that spit for 6 hrs with a 50 lb pig on it.  Much respect to the carnivores of old! The night before new year's eve we injected the pig with Taylor's secret marinade.  (It's a secret recipe because we can't remember what we put in it!)  After injecting the pig with 1/3 gallon of marinade we put it on ice for the night.  I could hardly sleep, excited thinking about the task ahead of us.  Taylor and I woke up very early and made a fire to keep coals going through out the day and did some final chores.  We put the pig on the spit and over the tray of coal at 10:30 AM.  I'm not the most patient guy, so I've never really been a good cook.  I can't wait!  It turns out Taylor and I are a perfect Pig Pikin' duo.  I would get anxious and want to up the heat and get that thing cookin' and Tay would pull the riegns reminding me that we needed to start  with low heat and gradually kick it up.  On the otherside, I'm pretty well versed in butchery and breakin' down critters to their basic components.  We are a dangerous pair :)   About 3 hours into roasting I added apple and hickory wood chips ( a hand full every 1/2 hour) that had soaked in water for an hour to give the pig that awsome smokey taste.  Taylor's wife Jenny was just as excited as us and helped all day getting the house ready and kept us on task.  Jenny's family also helped in making this a monumental occasion by providing side dishes, beverages, and desserts. And boy did they provide! I've never seen so much food!  Just about 2 hours before it was time to pull the pig from the glowing coals,  those unmistakable, mouth-watering smells began to permiate the house and soon the whole block.  That smell transported me back to my youth and seemed to create an atmoshpere of celebration and a general warm, content feeling as Taylor and I joked around and recalled stories of the past year.  Our guests started arriving around 6 PM just as we pulled the pig from the flames.  I was nervous just before I made my first cut in to the meat.  Was it done?  Will it taste as good as I remembered?  These questions were answered as I cut into that juicy white meat. It was perfect!  Our guests left with full bellies, and hopefully a little taste of Carolina tradition.  Most of our friends had gone by the time the new year made its arrival.  We spent the rest of the night and into the early morning hours joking around  by the fire until our cheeks hurt.  As I sat staring into the embers that twinkled like the stars above, I was happy as my best friends and I put 2010 to rest.

The Butcher



Taylor & Jenny











The Grey Ghost

Recently I've fallen in love.  I've fallen in love with Arizona Coues Deer hunting.  My dad and I have been lucky enough to draw tags for GMU 31 the past two years in a row.  This past year we hunted the early October hunt.  We had a very exciting hunt.  Opening morning found me slowly stalking through the oaks and junipers working the ridges with the wind in my face.  I spotted a little spike buck and had a difficult off the shoulder shot.  I had brought my brand new Remington .300 Ultra Mag for this hunt.  I shouldered my rifle and tried to keep the cross hairs trained on the vitals but it wasn't meant to be.  I jerked instead of squeezing the trigger and watched my tender steaks run away.  A couple more days of hunting turned up just some does and some playful Coati, though Dad did spot two bucks but never had a shot.  Dad had to get back to work so I reloaded my rig and set off alone to chase the "Grey Ghost".  My first morning I slept straight through my alarm and didn't start on my trail to a ridge I planned on hunting until about 6AM.  While walking down the trail I spotted the BIGGEST coues buck I've ever seen.  He was at 90 yds and had me pegged.  I raised my rifle like I was in a trance and shot.  I saw the tree limb behind him explode and knew I missed clean.  I was devistated.  I will admit buck fever had alot to do with that miss, but you gotta push past it and keep diggin.  I was unable to fill my rifle tag but had a great hunt regardless.  Actually I don't think I have ever really had a bad hunt, maybe just unsuccessful, but that's hunting.  I have named the behemoth I missed "The White Whale" because like Captain Ahab in Moby Dick I feel a pull to coues' country to battle wits with this particular animal.  It's the spirit of the chase that drives me onward and usually upward too.  I've been back to coues' country this December to chase "The Whale" with stick & string this time.  With archery equipment any coues deer is a trophy.  The brutal terrain and the elusive nature of Arizona coues deer make it one of the toughest beasts to hunt.  If I couldn't find "The Whale", any legal buck would be my target.  My second day bow hunting found me once again by the same ridge I had missed the behemoth during rifle season.  At about 11:40 AM I spotted a flag (white tail of a coues deer) ahead of me. I hit the dirt fast! I saw two deer through the scrub brush and greasewood.  I slither to about 20 yds and I see that one is a little buck. It was kind of like being in a movie when everything slows down and a second feels like hours.  I waited for the buck to move behind a bush so I could draw my bow.  He was headed for an opening that would likely give me an easy 10-12 yd chip shot. As I drew my bow the buck spotted me and stopped.  He stared me down through the brush, not sure what I was as I had perfect wind direction. He had stopped at about 18 yds but the only shot available was through a very, very small gap in the brush.  I wanted to anchor him with a neck shot but there were too many little branches to try to sneak an arrow through.  I put my 20 yd pin at the shoulder as he was quartering towards me ( Not the best angle for an arrow but @ 18yds....).  I released the arrow with the deer staring right at me.  After the shot the deer spun and vanished.  The bucks companion, the doe, kept me hunkered down for about 20 minutes before she decided to boogie.  I checked for blood and after hours on my hands and knees was unable to find a single drop.  However, about two hours into my search I busted a few deer from their beds.  I almost fell over when I saw that one of the deer I busted was "The White Whale" in full rutting regalia. Massive swollen neck, his muscle rippled, actaully rippled, as he kicked rocks up the canyon. Well, at least I know " The White Whale" made it through rifle season.  The next day I worked zig-zag patterns all day around the entire area I took the shot from with absolutely no sign of blood or my deer.  Sometimes we have these moments where it just seems futile to try anymore, you had your chance and you blew it.  I have had more of those moments than I care to admit, but I always push on.  I have found that once you push on confidence builds with each step and I look to my suroundings for inspiration and find it instantley.  I'll be back to chase "The White Whale" again in January.  Stay tuned.  I posted a couple of pics of coues country as well as my first Arizona coues deer I killed hunting with my dad in the 2009 Oct. rifle hunt.