Before
After
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Ribs
I still have more I plan on posting about my Africa trip, but in the meantime I had to share these ribs. I have always had an interest in barbeque. By barbeque I mean real barbeque, not just grilling burgers. I have made my own barbeque sauce with a "secret ingredient", and I mix up my own dry rub recipe. I rubbed this rack of ribs Saturday night and let it sit in the fridge overnight. This morning at 8:00 am I put them in my improvised smoker and got the heat set to where it stayed right at 225 F. I opened it up and basted them with ginger ale every couple hours, and at about 3:00 pm after 7 hours of smoking I did one last basting with some barbeque sauce and we sat down to eat at about 3:30. Cornbread muffins with butter and honey and fall of the bone smoked ribs, what a lunch!
Before
After
Before
After
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Kudu, How Do You Do?
The morning of my second day in Africa I woke up at 4:30 am and could not go back to sleep. I spent a couple hours writing and drawing pictures in my journal. I couldn't wait to get back out there and see more of Africa. I figured I could catch up on sleep when I got home. Finally the sun came up and we had a bite to eat before hitting the road. I tried a piece of blood sausage for breakfast, and decided that it definitely wasn't for me. It was all I could do to choke it down without hurling. I relegated myself to safer breakfast fare, homemade white and whole grain bread, marmalade, and cheese. Much better.
Ken had harvested a nice Oryx bull the night before, so it was again my turn to hunt. We saw oryx, kudu, and warthog that I could have shot, but they were all too small. George, our tracker, just kept telling me "young one", which meant it wasn't a good trophy and that I shouldn't shoot. At one point I had my crosshairs on a warthog hiding under a small acacia tree, and I was really close to pulling the trigger. At the last minute George convinced me he was just barely too young, and I let him go. I hadn't fired a shot but I sure got my heart rate up.
We were headed back to the farm for lunch when George spotted a good kudu bull standing like a statue in the shade on a hillside. The bull had us pegged, and there was no way we could get any closer without spooking him. We ranged him at 380 yards. A long shot, but I felt like I could make it. However, I didn't want to risk a poor shot and I decided not to shoot.
George and Hans Peter, our guide, had a heated conversation in Afrikaans about what we should do. Hans Peter told me to shoot the the mountain above and behind the bull to see if it would get him to run downhill closer to us. I was worried that I might be missing my chance, but didn't feel like I had many more options. I shot and the bull ran downhill, but right into a thicket of trees where we couldn't see him. Now what? Hans Peter and George went the rounds again in Afrikaans, and it was decided that I would set up for a shot and George would hike up the hill and try to push the bull out into the open. I ranged the areas where I thought he might come out at 300 yards and I set up to shoot. In just a few minutes George had climbed the hill, and the bull, hearing George, decided it was time to move. When he busted out of the thicket it didn't look like he was going to stop, and I was unsure about taking a running shot at 300 yards. However, I only had a small window to shoot before he was over the hill and gone. When the bull slowed down to look over his shoulder to see what had spooked him, I put a 225 grain .338 Winchester Magnum slug in his front shoulder. He stumbled, and I shot one more time, anchoring him for good.
We hiked up the hill in the heat, and I made my way to my bull. The beautiful spiral horns of the Kudu were one of the factors that had most excited me about hunting in Africa, and I couldn't believe that on only my second day of the hunt I had taken the Gray Ghost of the Kalahari.
There was no getting a vehicle anywhere near my Kudu, so after a few photos, Hans Peter radioed the farm and a group workers showed up to help pack out the animal. They made short work of the task, and we were only about a half hour late for lunch.
Ken had harvested a nice Oryx bull the night before, so it was again my turn to hunt. We saw oryx, kudu, and warthog that I could have shot, but they were all too small. George, our tracker, just kept telling me "young one", which meant it wasn't a good trophy and that I shouldn't shoot. At one point I had my crosshairs on a warthog hiding under a small acacia tree, and I was really close to pulling the trigger. At the last minute George convinced me he was just barely too young, and I let him go. I hadn't fired a shot but I sure got my heart rate up.
We were headed back to the farm for lunch when George spotted a good kudu bull standing like a statue in the shade on a hillside. The bull had us pegged, and there was no way we could get any closer without spooking him. We ranged him at 380 yards. A long shot, but I felt like I could make it. However, I didn't want to risk a poor shot and I decided not to shoot.
George and Hans Peter, our guide, had a heated conversation in Afrikaans about what we should do. Hans Peter told me to shoot the the mountain above and behind the bull to see if it would get him to run downhill closer to us. I was worried that I might be missing my chance, but didn't feel like I had many more options. I shot and the bull ran downhill, but right into a thicket of trees where we couldn't see him. Now what? Hans Peter and George went the rounds again in Afrikaans, and it was decided that I would set up for a shot and George would hike up the hill and try to push the bull out into the open. I ranged the areas where I thought he might come out at 300 yards and I set up to shoot. In just a few minutes George had climbed the hill, and the bull, hearing George, decided it was time to move. When he busted out of the thicket it didn't look like he was going to stop, and I was unsure about taking a running shot at 300 yards. However, I only had a small window to shoot before he was over the hill and gone. When the bull slowed down to look over his shoulder to see what had spooked him, I put a 225 grain .338 Winchester Magnum slug in his front shoulder. He stumbled, and I shot one more time, anchoring him for good.
We hiked up the hill in the heat, and I made my way to my bull. The beautiful spiral horns of the Kudu were one of the factors that had most excited me about hunting in Africa, and I couldn't believe that on only my second day of the hunt I had taken the Gray Ghost of the Kalahari.
There was no getting a vehicle anywhere near my Kudu, so after a few photos, Hans Peter radioed the farm and a group workers showed up to help pack out the animal. They made short work of the task, and we were only about a half hour late for lunch.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Springbok, The Begining...
A couple years ago my Dad fulfilled one of his lifelong dreams and went on an African Safari. His first safari was highly successful and he had the experience of a lifetime. I listened to his stories about the animals, the people, and the landscape. It sounded amazing, but to me it just wasn't quite "real". It was something that you hear other people talk about, see on TV, but it was something that I knew I would never experience. My Dad talked about going back and taking me with him. I was sure that he was sincere and that he really did think it would be nice to go back over together, but I didn't think it would ever actually happen.
Even after he announced to me that we were officially going and bought air tickets, etc., it still just didn't quite feel like we were really going to do it. I stayed so busy with work and other obligations that I didn't have much time to think about it or prepare. And, all of a sudden it was time to pack up and head out on MY African Safari.
After traveling for what felt like a week and a half (but was only actually 3 days) we landed at the airport in Windhoek, Namibia. We met our hosts and were off to the ranch where we would be hunting. The warthogs running across the road and baboons sitting on the telephone poles as we drove were surreal. Even though I hadn't slept more than a couple hours in the last 2 days I sat with my eyes wide open trying to take in every detail of the totally foreign landscape.
It felt incredibly good to sleep in a real bed compared to my futile attempts to catch a few winks in the economy seats of a crowded airliner over the previous two days. Despite the excitement and anticipation I slept like a baby, and woke the next morning ready to start my adventure.
After a few shots at the range making sure that the rifle case was the only item the jerks at the TSA beat the crap out of, I was ready to go. My Dad's friend Ken who accompanied us won the "choose a number between 1-10" challenge and had the opportunity to hunt first. As we headed out across the Kalahari desert in search of game I was still just soaking up the scenery, the plants, the birds, the smells. Africa just feels electric and alive, and it is contagious.
After a short drive we spotted a bedded Springbok snoozing in an open meadow. Ken and the trackers made a stalk. After getting into position they had a long wait until the old man decided to stand up. After a warning shot, Ken shook the jitters and anchored the first big game animal of our trip. The Springbok was an old male with striking coloring and beautiful dark horns.
After the trackers took Ken's springbok back to the butcher at the farm house, we continued our hunt. Now it was my turn, and I didn't have to wait long before I had the opportunity to take my own springbok. After my shot, he turned and ran 30 yards before expiring in the tall grass. The grass was so high that it took us several minutes of searching before we found him. I had taken my first animal on the dark continent and my Safari had begun.
Even after he announced to me that we were officially going and bought air tickets, etc., it still just didn't quite feel like we were really going to do it. I stayed so busy with work and other obligations that I didn't have much time to think about it or prepare. And, all of a sudden it was time to pack up and head out on MY African Safari.
After traveling for what felt like a week and a half (but was only actually 3 days) we landed at the airport in Windhoek, Namibia. We met our hosts and were off to the ranch where we would be hunting. The warthogs running across the road and baboons sitting on the telephone poles as we drove were surreal. Even though I hadn't slept more than a couple hours in the last 2 days I sat with my eyes wide open trying to take in every detail of the totally foreign landscape.
It felt incredibly good to sleep in a real bed compared to my futile attempts to catch a few winks in the economy seats of a crowded airliner over the previous two days. Despite the excitement and anticipation I slept like a baby, and woke the next morning ready to start my adventure.
After a few shots at the range making sure that the rifle case was the only item the jerks at the TSA beat the crap out of, I was ready to go. My Dad's friend Ken who accompanied us won the "choose a number between 1-10" challenge and had the opportunity to hunt first. As we headed out across the Kalahari desert in search of game I was still just soaking up the scenery, the plants, the birds, the smells. Africa just feels electric and alive, and it is contagious.
After a short drive we spotted a bedded Springbok snoozing in an open meadow. Ken and the trackers made a stalk. After getting into position they had a long wait until the old man decided to stand up. After a warning shot, Ken shook the jitters and anchored the first big game animal of our trip. The Springbok was an old male with striking coloring and beautiful dark horns.
After the trackers took Ken's springbok back to the butcher at the farm house, we continued our hunt. Now it was my turn, and I didn't have to wait long before I had the opportunity to take my own springbok. After my shot, he turned and ran 30 yards before expiring in the tall grass. The grass was so high that it took us several minutes of searching before we found him. I had taken my first animal on the dark continent and my Safari had begun.
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