A tubby suburban dad watching hunting and adventure shows
on TV and wondering could I do that?
This is the chronicle of my adventures as I learn to learn to Forage,
Hunt and Fish for food that has lived as I would wish to myself -
Wild and Free.
Rumours of my demise are greatly exaggerated, but I have been very busy so apologies for the dearth of posts in the last couple of weeks. On the up-side lots of new kit has been arriving and testing will commence as soon as the weather worsens and time permits.
In the meantime this Lansky Sharpening System has arrived and was scheduled for testing this weekend, until I remembered Skippy's wedding. Opps!
Bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.
Ahh the sights and sounds of the river bank; the flutter-by of butterflies, the magic of the rods flex as it loads with the energy it's going to use to flick the line out, the babble of the river, the misanthropic mutterings of the Andy, and the delightful scent of DEET on the breeze. Ahhhhh.
The last of my adventures afield in the Kingdom of Fife (for the time being) took us in search of that magical fish the Sea Trout. Andy and I drove to a river he's fished for years, where water tumbles down from the hills breaking through the soil and out into the Firth of Forth. Our quarry is making the journey in the other direction, having once spawned in the same waters we patrolled, the Sea Trout are returning to complete the cycle, some of them having attained truely impressive sizes. On arrival we caught up with Gordon the Water Bailiff - armed with a spinning rig and soft lures in the style of Sand Eels. His reports were encouraging; He had already landed his 'toon-fash' of the season, and witnessed a twenty-pounder caught by another chap. We held high hopes of a trip to the smoking service with our bounty. Yeah right.
Wether it was my; poor technique, general englishness, or 'sheer-suburban-uselessness' Andy wasn't sure, so he alternated between them and threw in a few other forms of blame for good measure.
Alas I was once again unable to close the deal with the wild foods of Fife.
As usual our kit pendulumed between the home-made and the high tech, Andy pairing an £800 super rod with one of the skanky-ist spinning reels its been my displeasure to see/use in a long long time. Ever keen to reenforce national stereotypes Andy indignantly leapt to its defence "what do you mean? I paid Ten Pounds for that!"
Other Bushcrafters had been there before us
Almost 16C [aka 60.6F] measured with the plumbers non-contact thermometer.
How's that for kit-tart fishing tackle!
It was the kind of idyllic afternoon that fly fishing is made for, the cares of the world were far far away, occasionally a Brown Trout would jump from the water, and despite Andy's prediction I actually came back with one fly more than I set out with!
"Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World," said the Rat. "And that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at all."
Following on from the last post, this is what i spent a little less than the $200 on
I am my father's son; what ever I do, how ever much I see myself as evolved through my own nurture, nature will out. Or as MOB (mother of bushwacker) says of my Dad "gods gift to anyone offering a bargain - whether he needs it or not". Putting Ma's cynicism to one side for a moment the summer is the best time to buy winter equipment. I am a very sad man so I have an ever growing pile of gear from high end small volume manufacturers, and because the kit isn't made by imprisoned democracy protesters it aint cheap. I can't afford to buy it new but I keep telling myself there's no saving in buying brand new crap that falls apart within a year, when for 10-20% more [ I tell myself again] I can buy stuff my kids kids will be using as they forage the post apocalyptic wastelands for rats to eat.
I've got the Arctic 27oz version with the 'optional' armour on the Knees and Seat
I could never have justified buying these at full price so it's nice to see first hand what the really high-end gear is like. In a word Awesome. For your eye-watering $452 + shipping + import tax + VAT you get a pair of RhinoSkin trousers that are seriously stuffed with Climashield 6 Oz per sq yard insulation, and 500D cordura patches on the high wear areas. As usual with Kifaru there's the clever little design tweeks that make the difference. They sew a patch, inside and out, on to the back of the pants where the belt of your pack will sit that is - I don't know how to explain this - sort of adhesive without being sticky. Which is designed to reduce the effect of your pack moving about on the layers of your clothing. Feels like it'll work well. But obviously only a thorough field test will answer that. I've not managed to track down anyone with a sub zero meat locker yet so the field tests of these and my Kifaru Sleeping bag may have to wait until the weather gets a lot colder.
In the meantime, more of the usual nonsense, kit reviews, and tales between here and Elk hunter
Your pal
SBW
So picture the scene: you've got $200 bucks, AKA £120, not that I've got $200, or that I'm by some act of blogger magic able to give you $200, just an imaginary $200 of 'mad money' not bills money, not body and soul money, just $200/£120 of 'mad money'.
What Outdoor Gear Would you Buy With It?
Answers in the comments section please, and you never know where this one might lead us.....
A couple of you have written in to ask me about the rioting in London over the last few nights.
The first bit of this footage takes place about 10 minutes walk from my house, and literally on MCP's doorstep. The second section is down the street from R&E's place.
Looting got a bit nearer the next day, but after the appliance store had been cleaned out there was nothing left worth stealing so the running battles moved back down to Hackney central.
More Soon
SBW
EDIT PS
Two bits of reportage that I thought were worth repeating, the first a call to arms from some of the 'yoovz' purportedly taken from Blackberry Messaging:
"If you're down for making money, we're about to
go hard in east london tonight, yes tonight!! I don't care what ends you're
from, we're personally inviting you to come and get it in. Police have taken
the piss for too long and to be honest I don't know why its taken so long for
us make this happen. We need a minimum of 200 hungry people. We're not broke,
but who says no to free stuff. Doesn't matter if the police arrive cos we'll
just chase dem out because as you've seen on the news, they are NOT ON DIS
TING. Everyone meet at 7 at stratford park and let's get rich."
And from the excellent psychology blog MindHacks, some coverage that looks a little deeper than the tedious knee jerk reactions we've all read elsewhere.
'In the coming weeks we can expect to see politicians and pundits lining up to give us their smash-and-grab clichés for the recent urban riots in the UK. They’ll undoubtedly give a warm welcome to our old friends economic decay, disengaged youth and opportunistic crime, and those of a more psychological persuasion might name drop ‘deindividuation’ – the process where we supposedly lose self-awareness and responsibility in large crowds.This belies the fact that we crowd behaviour is a complex area that is surprisingly poorly researched. READ MORE HERE interesting stuff.
This 'Trophy Rupert' was first glassed in the car-park and then stalked to this magnificent shot in the vegetable section of Morrisons in St Andrews.
Rupert (s) are the mature males of the English upper classes: often seen in their distinctive out-of-office plumage of red strides and check shirt, this partially fine example has the additional pink shirt.
Although there are records of earlier sightings, Rupert Stalking in the UK was first popularised early in the 21'st century by the blogger known as Bambi Basher. Mainly a summer sport, most Rupert Stalking takes place at game fairs and country shows, although domesticated examples can sometimes be seen tethered outside horse shows, country interiors showrooms, and boutiques selling twin-set and pearls.
Reports have reached us that there have been numerous sightings on the east cost of America where they are colloquially known as 'Nantucket Pinks'. It is not yet known if these a purely domestic species or the result of migratory interbreeding.
More soon
SBW
PS I'm hoping to bag a 'Tarquin' the juvenile male of the same species, later in the season.
PPS I dont usually edit posts but this blog deserves a mention
"The rod is a bamboo weighing seven ounces, which has to be spliced with a winding of silk thread every time it is used. This is a tedious process; but, by fastening the joints in this way, a uniform spring is secured in the rod. No one devoted to high art would think of using a socket joint."
Way back when I set out on my mission to take Wild Brown Trout from waters within the M25 (the orbital ring road that incircles London) I hooked up with [sporadic] blogger and Fly Guy, Jeremiah Quinn who had offered to act as my guide. He oversaw my first clumsy efforts to flick-a-fly as we explored the Darenth a river in Kent once fished by Charles Dickens. You can read all about it here.
Jeremiah is very well traveled and deeply committed to no-money-down fishing in rivers and streams, disdaining 'stockies' from the pay-to-play reservoirs as tame fish for the uncommitted. Often this means arduous travel by planes, trains, and public transport. He uses Greys Missionary rods to avoid that horrible moment when you're waiting to see if the ramp-monkeys have bent your rod tube into a U shape. As something of a wanderer myself I've always bought take-down or travel rods for spinning and beachcasting so I needed little convincing.
Everyone I asked said a six weight was the all-rounder for fresh water, I've got the 5/6 weight. You can fish a fly rod one up or one down so it's biggish for the chalksteams of the Darenth and Wandle, and smallish for the Thames. The rod of a suburban fly fisher. The rod of mountain stream bushwhacker.
You can spend all kinds of money on fly rods, but frankly there are limits. Sad kit-tart though I am, I'm just not in the market for an £800 rod. But my £25 rod sucked; if I'd given it a flick before writing this post it would still be vibrating now. Happily fly rods are both deeply subjective and subject to the whims of fashion. So there's often the chance to buy rods from people who've changed their minds about last weeks must-have. When a deal steal came up I took Jeremiah's advice and pounced on my current rig which is based around the Greys Missionary.
8.25 feet long; handy when trying to get between the trees linning a chalk stream
Slower than the fast 'technical' rods, faster than the sloppy slow ones, it's made a HOOJ difference to my casting.
Mid-to-Tip action makes it pretty forgiving
The tube it comes in is much better made than the Shimano tubes, though not as nice as the metal tubes the £800 rods come in.
One of the afeild pastimes we played at was both fun and fantastic for the diversity of the environment. Andy lets his front yard grow totally wild with loads of different grasses, sedges and pants growing to seed, the birds are drawn to his garden in impressive numbers. We spend a great afternoon collecting seeds from a meadow to introduce to the his mini nature reserve. It was loads of fun to keep adding to the tally of different plants we'd gathered. I stopped counting at twenty and reveled in being ten years old again.
We spent the morning anxiously searching the Kingdom of Fife for Sciurus carolinensis AKA the Tree Rabbit, who has an urgent dinner invitation for some celebrity chefery. Further details are embargoed...
When inventor Michael Pritchard saw the asian tsunami on TV he wanted to do something to help people in the third world rebuild their lives, when he saw hurricane Katrina devastate a first world country he re-evaluated the scale of the problem, and developed Lifesaver as a solution. This truly is game changing technology, by carrying one instead of carrying water you save a massive amount of pack weight AND get far cleaner water than any other available system.
Up until now even the best filter has only removed bacteria 200 nanometers long from water. Viruses are typically only 25 nanometers long and would pass through the filter. Lifesaver filters right down to 15 nanometers means instant access to safe water whatever the circumstances.
The instructions said you have fill it with clean water and let it stand for 10 minutes
Once you've got the lid off!
Mockery: Andy says it's better to give than receive
Pump it up to prime the charcoal filtre
Fill with water of questionable quality
You can also use the pre filter as a scavenging sponge
Make sure you've closed the waterproof cap to keep the drinking and filling ends separate
OK perhaps the lid is a bit stiff
Pump it up to make the water flow,
if the water only trickles out give it a few more pumps.
“The ‘Lifesaver bottles’ were tested using micro organisms in far greater numbers than could ever be found in natural water sources. This is the worse-case scenario approach recommended by the EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) and their guidelines have been used to draw up our own protocols for testing of all Microbiological Water Purifiers. As well as using modified tap water for our tests we use samples taken from a pond or stream as our challenge test water to simulate ‘real-life’ situations as per EPA guidelines.”
Under the conditions of testing in our laboratory as shown in this report, our results show that the ‘Lifesaver Bottle’ removed all bacteria and viruses from a contaminated water source in excess of legal requirements and as such, complies with all British, US and European Drinking Water Regulations for Microbiological Reduction. London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine.
For a full explanation here's the inventor Michael Pritchard giving a demonstration for TED Talks
I'm not as smart as Michael Pritchard but as ever, my blog my rules, so here's what I'd do differently:
In this size it takes up a bit of pack space, I'd like one half the size, half the weight wouldn't be a bad thing either even if, as it's for recreational use, it only had half the service life.
The strap is add-on design - by the time you've filled the thing with 'orrid water the strap has soaked some up and the risk of cross contamination is doubled. I'm going to make a replacement out of something non-absorbant.
In summation: wether you're hiking, camping, traveling in the third world, or preparing [see the Jerry Can size here] this is an excellent bit of kit.
Lifesaver also do a really cool purchase option, where you pay a little more for your bottle and another bottle goes to someone in a disaster zone. The link is HERE the USA site is HERE
The traveller fancies he has seen the country. So he has, the outside of it at least; but the angler only sees the inside. The angler only is brought close, face to face with the flower and bird and insect life of the rich river banks, the only part of the landscape where the hand of man has never interfered.
The car park at Rock-A-Nore in Hastings. East Sussex
For THIS!
Andy's private mini-loch.
Grin caused by massive improvement in casting [thanks Andy].
We're going back to work tomorrow afternoon, it's hard life being a celebrity adventure guide!
After our detour to the home of golf arrived at Andy's place where LongSword who had been shooting pigeons over wheat and had a stack waiting to be cooked up. He's been plucking them outside and claimed that the blizzard of feathers had been caused when the dogs had got at them. This picture was taken AFTER he'd 'tidied up'.
We feasted on the day's bag. The recipe couldn't be simpler, Pigeon breasts wrapped in Parma Ham seared until the ham is crispy and then left to stand in the oven a 100c for about 20 mins, served with potato salad. And beers.
The next morning I was woken from a deep sleep on the couch to be told people from Andy's Facebook group were demanding I be roused by the cold water method. Fearing that Andy's Facebook pals would lead him into bad ways we packed some sarnies and headed out.
Note: Secondary use for Gear stick - Dog-Chew
Andy dropped Longsword and myself off and we set up on the edge of our second choice of field,
the first being occupied by an Italian shooter we named 'Perazzi'. He was either the most productive Pigeon shooter ever or was rivalling even me for fudged chances, we reckoned he had a semi-auto as we only heard him fire a single shot once in the whole afternoon, and sometimes letting loose strings of four and five shots.
Longsword had bought a 'Pigeon Magnet' with him.
Its a car windscreen whipper's motor attached to two arms which rotate.
You put a pair of the Pigeons you shot the day before on them and from above they imitate the wheeling of two birds coming in to feed.
Longsword was kind enough to lend me this Belgian 20 gauge Side-by-side.
We spent an excellent afternoon, shooting the breeze, telling tales, and shooting pigeons, well Longsword shot pigeons, I shot fresh air and distinguished myself with an all time low score of 24 for none, zero, zilch nothing, Nada.
The Excusses: a litany
1. I've not fired a shotgun in about three years
2. The gun was a very poor fit
3. The Coyote god was playing tricks on me
4. It was Longswords birthday and I didn't want to show him up
That's my story and I'm sticking to it
More soon
Your pal
SBW
If yesterdays phone calls are to be believed this weeks posts will be from the highlands. I'm heading due north to Scotland on a secret mission which I'll tell you about later. The good news is there's not much to do, so I'm skiving off to meet Andy Richardson from Safari in Scotland for a Short Walk in the Highland Kush, some wild food, and if his nerves can take it, he's offered to give me a few pointers for my fly fishing.
Emergency services have been alerted, the Scottish parliament recalled from their summer break, medical and legal professionals are standing by.
While we chat on the phone every so often we've never actually met. Andy's been a long time suporter and reader of the blog from back in the days when he used to blog for Sporting Shooter magazine's blog ring. As the name Safari in Scotland suggests he's Mr Fieldsports north of the border with access to over 1,000,000 acres of shooting land. Andy is a a known killer with Gun, Rod and Rifle while I'm distinguished only by my ability to turn fly lines into birds nests, and as a known flincher with gun and rifle.
This is also a great chance to do some gear tests, make trout laugh, and catch a few breaths of the fresh stuff in the only really wild parts left on these islands.
We were watching the coverage on TV, my daughter [The Littlest Bushwacker - aged 5] realising it was something mum and dad were interested in, took an interest herself. After a couple of minutes she asked
TLB: What's a Murchoch?
SBW: He's a man who owns lots of newspapers
TLB: Ah! Does he really like reading?
Apart from the greater load stability, the great thing about a proper external frame rucksack is you can separate the two parts and use the frame to haul awkward loads that wont easily fit into the pack (small offspring), or would puncture it (firewood) or cover it in, well blood, guts, and gore (fresh meat).
The Kifaru Pack Frame is the basis of the Multi Mission Ruck, the Extended Mission Ruck and the LongHunter and it's a fantastic piece of kit. Much of the strain of carrying heavy loads comes from their instability; a tightly packed load, held as close as possible to your centre of gravitmakes the weight more comfortable to carry.
The 'load side' of the frame is a High-Density Polyethylene (HDPE) plate so the load keeps it's shape, with two aluminium stays that hang the weight from belt onto your hips.
The 'back side' (it goes against your back - or should that be 'person side'?) is strategically padded to reduce the contact area between back and pack whilst perching the pack on your sacrum where the belt and tabs pull the weight forward so it's 100% on your hips with the shoulder straps only keeping the pack from falling backwards. In the words of MCP 'it's basically a kind of truss'.
The Kifaru Cargo Chair is a very handy accessory; you can clip it on to either the pack or the frame. It comes with two stays making it very good for carrying things with a flat base or the afore mentioned lazy offspring.
Barrel pic courtesy of Jungle_re on the British Blades forum - the uber nerdy amongst you will have noticed that his Pack Frame is from an MMR (multi mission ruck) so has the quick release clips on the shoulder straps and the PALS belt for attaching pouches to. Tactical baby Tactic-cool.
Through reading a post Steve Bodio wrote about the commissioning agenda over at Atlantic magazine I found this piece he wrote for them years ago. I've always wanted to visit the Stepps and see the rugged beauty of a landscape that remains as it would have been in Gengis' time. Now I want to go more than ever.
Sovereigns of the Sky
In 1995 an old friend, the photographer David Edwards, went trekking in western Mongolia and returned with tales of people "from history, from legend, from myth." He spoke of Mongol sheep feasts, Tsataan who rode reindeer and lived in tepees, Kazakhs who wintered in adobe houses and hunted with eagles. Edwards said that the Kazakhs were hospitable and had eagles in every village. He knew a young Kazakh entrepreneur, Canat, who had learned English in the Soviet army and was willing to guide me. I was ready to go.
Some weeks later I stood blinking in a Mongolian courtyard in the blazing sun of a February morning. The night before, Canat and I had rattled into the village of Bayaan Nuur, in the northwestern province of Bayaan Olgii Aimag, in a Russian jeep. The village was near the home of Canat's mother-in-law, where we were staying, and Canat knew of a master eagler there. The eagler was a shepherd and potato farmer named Suleiman. His eagle, a two-year-old, dozed atop a tractor tire. She was nearly three feet from head to tail, thick and broad-shouldered, black-bodied and touched with gold on her neck. She wore a black-leather hood like those I had seen in the photos (eaglers generally keep their birds hooded except when they are flying, so that the birds will stay calm). Her bill was charcoal-colored and gracefully curved; her feet shone like yellow stone. Pale fluff fanned out over the white bases of her tail feathers. Braided leashes connected heavy sheepskin anklets on her legs to the hub of the wheel. In the bright desert light she glowed like a dark sun, as elegant as a living thing can be.
Suleiman ushered us inside to a brilliant-blue room. In it was another eagle, on a roughly carved tripod. A slender young man entered, carrying the first eagle on his right arm and a similar perch under his left. Canat explained that this was Suleiman's apprentice, Bakyt, who owned the second eagle, and that they were going to give the birds a drink. A child brought in a teapot and some lump sugar, decanting the tea into a drinking bowl and sweetening it while Canat translated. "Suleiman says that it is end of season. He has not flown eagles for two weeks. But tea and sugar give them energy, so they will be hungry and fly." Suleiman put one end of a length of rubber tubing into his mouth, like the end of a hookah, and made a joke ("He says it is the exhaust pipe"). He put the other end into the drinking bowl, sucked up some tea, and then emptied it into the first eagle's mouth. He repeated the process. The bird shook her head but otherwise remained still. "Now he will take the eagle's hood off," Canat said. "She will vomit fat if she has any." Indeed, after a moment the eagle gagged, brought up a little tea, shook her head again, and wiped her beak on the perch. She then "roused," shaking down all her feathers, and looked alertly about, as though a morning caffeine dose and purge were the most normal thing in the world. The other bird got a similar dosing, and we were ready to go.
Back out in the courtyard we found a bustling scene of organized chaos, with elements that spanned many centuries. A camel was signaled to kneel so that its rider could mount. Horses stood waiting as Suleiman gave brisk orders. Hunters slung rifles and shotguns over their shoulders, single-shot twelve-gauge Baikals. Siassi, our driver, fired up our jeep and popped in a cassette; wild Kazakh music with the rhythm of a galloping horse rang out loudly from the speakers. Suleiman motioned toward a ridge about a mile away: we would climb the rocks and sit on top while Suleiman's younger brothers beat the plain below for game. He, Bakyt, and the other riders set off. READ MORE
There's just time for a trip this year before the cold arrives. Anyone need a bathroom building? A Kidney? Shine yer shoes guvner? SBW
