Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Deep Sea Fishing - What Fun!
So far, the vacation has focused on New England beach pursuits.
We flew into Logan, and went up to York Beach in Maine. Our first order of business was to get lobster rolls for lunch, then to proceed to the gathering of the Abbott clan at Walter's beach house.
It was great weather until Sunday the 15th, which of course was the day that Elizabeth and Ruth had planned to go deep sea fishing with Walter and Mark.
The consequence? From the web site of the MV Bunny Clark (http://www.bunnyclark.com/update.htm):
Jared Keniston and I ran the full day trip today (Tom Corbett couldn't make the trip - previous commitments). At 5:00 AM EDT, the air temperature was 63°F, the wind was blowing out of the southwest at ten knots, the sky was clear and the visibility was fair to good in haze. It was a lumpy ride to the fishing grounds but easy enough to keep the throttle at full cruise. Once on the grounds, the wind was blowing out of the south at fifteen knots with seas in chops of two to three feet. These conditions kept up all day. The sky remained sunny, the air temperature was warm even with the wind and the visibility was about two to three miles in haze. The sea surface water temperature reached a high of 61.9°F on the fishing grounds. The high air temperature at the Portland International Jetport, Portland, Maine was 77°F (with a low of 62°F) today. In Boston, Massachusetts the high was 90°F (with a low of 68°F) today. Concord, New Hampshire's high temperature was 82°F (with a low of 63°F) today.
The fishing was fair for everyone except Tim Williams (CT). He crept up into the "good" category and caught almost thirty-three percent of the total legal catch (not including dogfish). We really caught mostly dogfish and got into such a mess with them that we lost at least an hour and a half of our precious fishing time trying to get out from under the tangles that they incurred. The tide was running too hard for us to effectively catch fish while drifting so we had to anchor (which also cost us fishing time) where the dogs held us captive and certainly had their way with us on every stop. We also had a few more anglers who succumbed to sea sickness than I would have expected which didn't help the catch rate either. Legal landings of desired fish included mostly pollock and redfish. Landings also included a couple cusk, two legal haddock and two legal cod.
Tim Williams (CT) was the fisherman of the day. He was high hook with nine legal fish and he won the boat pool for the largest fish with the largest fish, a 14 pound pollock. His second largest fish was a 10 pound pollock, the third largest fish of the trip. Paul Potvin (NH) caught the second largest fish, a 10.5 pound pollock. His second fish was an 8.5 pound pollock.
Other Angler Highlights: Steve Benoit (MA), a self proclaimed pollock catcher, caught the first fish of the day, a pollock of about 6 pounds. The only reason I tell you this is that he told me all the way out that this is what he would catch even though I tried to tell him that we haven't been catching pollock as of late! Shows you what the captain knows! Six year old James Temple (NY) caught the second fish of the trip, a 7 pound cusk. His father, Mark Temple (NY), a past cat-2 racing cyclist of some renown, did give James a bit of help but not as much as one would think. Joe Yakel (NY) caught a 9.5 pound pollock. Elizabeth Fitzgerald (OR) won the hard luck award for being high hurler of the trip. James Gajarski (ME) would have taken the award but Elizabeth was just a little bit quicker on the trigger!
Elizabeth says she has exhausted her interest in deep sea fishing.
We flew into Logan, and went up to York Beach in Maine. Our first order of business was to get lobster rolls for lunch, then to proceed to the gathering of the Abbott clan at Walter's beach house.
It was great weather until Sunday the 15th, which of course was the day that Elizabeth and Ruth had planned to go deep sea fishing with Walter and Mark.
The consequence? From the web site of the MV Bunny Clark (http://www.bunnyclark.com/update.htm):
Jared Keniston and I ran the full day trip today (Tom Corbett couldn't make the trip - previous commitments). At 5:00 AM EDT, the air temperature was 63°F, the wind was blowing out of the southwest at ten knots, the sky was clear and the visibility was fair to good in haze. It was a lumpy ride to the fishing grounds but easy enough to keep the throttle at full cruise. Once on the grounds, the wind was blowing out of the south at fifteen knots with seas in chops of two to three feet. These conditions kept up all day. The sky remained sunny, the air temperature was warm even with the wind and the visibility was about two to three miles in haze. The sea surface water temperature reached a high of 61.9°F on the fishing grounds. The high air temperature at the Portland International Jetport, Portland, Maine was 77°F (with a low of 62°F) today. In Boston, Massachusetts the high was 90°F (with a low of 68°F) today. Concord, New Hampshire's high temperature was 82°F (with a low of 63°F) today.
The fishing was fair for everyone except Tim Williams (CT). He crept up into the "good" category and caught almost thirty-three percent of the total legal catch (not including dogfish). We really caught mostly dogfish and got into such a mess with them that we lost at least an hour and a half of our precious fishing time trying to get out from under the tangles that they incurred. The tide was running too hard for us to effectively catch fish while drifting so we had to anchor (which also cost us fishing time) where the dogs held us captive and certainly had their way with us on every stop. We also had a few more anglers who succumbed to sea sickness than I would have expected which didn't help the catch rate either. Legal landings of desired fish included mostly pollock and redfish. Landings also included a couple cusk, two legal haddock and two legal cod.
Tim Williams (CT) was the fisherman of the day. He was high hook with nine legal fish and he won the boat pool for the largest fish with the largest fish, a 14 pound pollock. His second largest fish was a 10 pound pollock, the third largest fish of the trip. Paul Potvin (NH) caught the second largest fish, a 10.5 pound pollock. His second fish was an 8.5 pound pollock.
Other Angler Highlights: Steve Benoit (MA), a self proclaimed pollock catcher, caught the first fish of the day, a pollock of about 6 pounds. The only reason I tell you this is that he told me all the way out that this is what he would catch even though I tried to tell him that we haven't been catching pollock as of late! Shows you what the captain knows! Six year old James Temple (NY) caught the second fish of the trip, a 7 pound cusk. His father, Mark Temple (NY), a past cat-2 racing cyclist of some renown, did give James a bit of help but not as much as one would think. Joe Yakel (NY) caught a 9.5 pound pollock. Elizabeth Fitzgerald (OR) won the hard luck award for being high hurler of the trip. James Gajarski (ME) would have taken the award but Elizabeth was just a little bit quicker on the trigger!
Elizabeth says she has exhausted her interest in deep sea fishing.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
August Comes Early
For us, August is coming in July this year.
While on vacation, I will not have access to my usual blog, so I turn again to this temporary summer vacation blog.
While on vacation, I will not have access to my usual blog, so I turn again to this temporary summer vacation blog.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Back To My Regular Blog
Friday, August 19, 2005
Safari Photos
Some of the photos are at this link:
http://homepage.mac.com/pdxpatfitz/PhotoAlbum18.html
http://homepage.mac.com/pdxpatfitz/PhotoAlbum18.html
Monday, August 15, 2005
A Magic Day
We have had any number of excellent days -- successful hunts taking wildebeest, or impala, or kudu. We had other days where our hunt brought no trophies back to the lodge, but we still saw amazing sights and game. Added to the list from previous posts are zebra, rhino, lion, jackal, hyena, waterbuck, bushbuck, duiker. We have seen new life birds including yellow-beaked hornbills and pied cuckoos. Nothing, however, prepared us for Sunday, August 14.
It was early on in our morning hunt, about 7:45 AM, when the PH's spotted a herd of red hartebeest. "Who is most fit to go walk-and-stalk?", asked Hannes. I grinned and pointed at Elizabeth. She gave me the look, then climbed out of the bakkie and disappeared into the bush with Carl and Hannes.
About 25 minutes later, we heard a single shot, in the distance. After a wait, Hannes emerged emerged from the bush, showing me a bit thumbs-up. He was excited as he climbed into the bakkie.
"That was a HUGE red hartebeest. He must have been very old. I have never seen one that large before. We set up the shooting sticks for her, waited for him to step out into the clearing, and then she made the perfect shot, right through the heart. He went only 7 metres, and then fell down, as dead as can be."
Elizabeth was thrilled with her first success as a hunter. She did not yet know that this particular red hartebeest would probably put her in the record books among the top 5 or 10 women in the world, once properly dried, measured, and certified.
Flush with her success, we hunted until late in the morning, when the PH's spotted a large warthog in the distance. "Come, Elizabeth," they said, and the three of them scrambled from the bakkie to begin the stalk. Hannes took my video camera, to capture this hunt on video. They again disappeared into the bush. The video shows them walking single file, at times bending low to avoid being seen or looking human, until Carl set up the shooting sticks for Elizabeth.
She looked through her scope, and felt a bit shaky after the stalk. "Can I have another minute?", she asked Carl. "No, you must take him now," Carl replied. She squeezed the trigger, and the video showed a good hit. We all scrambled out to join the tracking, but were not really needed as we only had to track the warthog for about 20 metres, before finding him dead as can be. It was another single shot kill. She had placed the bullet just as Carl told her, behind the last rib on the animal which was quartering away from her.
We dropped Pete, the tracker, and Philippe, the skinner at a place where they could skin the animals and place them in a cooler, and went to lunch.
Our afternoon started as well as our morning had. It was my turn to walk and stalk, and I was able to put a very nice gemsbok down, no tracking required. The usual posing for pictures and we were back in the bakkie.
What followed was an extraordinary afternoon for seeing kudu bulls. The kudu is called the Gray Ghost by some, and not all clients who want kudus will see them. This afternoon, we saw at least 45 kudu bulls. One particular bull had the PH's going wild in the back of the truck, as they begged me to shoot him. I declined, saying "One kudu per family," and they were beside themselves. "He is at least 60 inches. You may never see this again in your lifetime." They tried to talk Elizabeth into shooting it, and she declined. I was resolute, and they were biting their knuckles as we moved on.
We moved along, seeing some wonderful sights. Large herds of red hartebeest running back and forth across the plain, and through the brush. Kudu everywhere. A very large waterbuck gazed at us from a moderate distance.
Suddenly the PH's were practically falling off the truck again. "That is a HUGE impala! Elizabeth, do you see him?" She was pretty worn out by this point in the whole adventure. She raised her rifle and peered through the scope. "I don't see him." Arms were quickly extended over her shoulder by the PH's and by Pete, the tracker, to help her find it. "Right there, by that yellow tree. He is looking right at us. He will soon run. You must take him quickly."
She still couldn't focus. "I can't see him." I thought the PH's were going to have a stroke, in their excitement to see this monster impala taken by a client of theirs. I tried to use a very calm voice, and asked, "Elizabeth, would you mind if I took the shot?" She looked very relieved, and said, "Go right ahead."
One shot and a 25 metre stalk later, we were marveling over the size of the impala. 25.5 inches on one side, 26.25 inches on the other. The PH's informed me that I had fortunately managed to join my daughter on the lists of people who had taken world class animals. Once again, there were many pictures taken on the PH's cameras as well as my camera. "That is the largest impala I have ever taken with a client, or myself for that matter," Hannes said. "That is the largest impala I have seen," said Carl.
We returned to the lodge late, about 8:15 PM. The cook had put up diner for us in the warmer, and gone home already. Carl showed the others at the lodge, Jessica, Nick, and Neil our videos from the day. After dinner we sat around the fire outside the dining room, and discussed the day. Across the Limpopo River, in Botswana, we could hear the intermittent rumble of a leopard. After a bit, one of the baboons made a mistake, and we heard the leopard having a meal while the baboons who had not made a mistake shrieked in protest.
As we were going to bed, Carl told us, "I have never had this successful a day with a client before."
Certainly his clients had never before had a day like this, either.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
In Which Elizabeth Is Bitten By A Lion And Lives To Tell
And we even have it on video.
We took a break from hunting, and Judy took us to Mama Tau, a white lion rescue and breeding project.
At Mama Tau, we were met by Beverly. She introduced us to Chance, an orphaned white lion cub who was still being bottle-fed. Elizabeth was thrilled when Beverly asked is she would like to sit and hold him. Chance crawled all over Elizabeth, and mouthed her much as a puppy will. We took a bazillion pictures as Elizabeth and then Judy took turns holding the cub.
After a lot of that, Elizabeth finally got a little bit more of a nip, but nothing that made her stop playing with the animal. On the way out, I asked her to show me her lion bite. She had to think hard to remember which was the lion nip, and which were the marks from all the thorns in the bushveldt.
Bitten by a lion, and lived to tell.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Blue Wildebeest
The internet connections here in the bushveldt are slow and a bit dodgy. This post was to have been posted after the one about arriving in Johannesburg, and before the one about unwlecome words to the PH. I won't be surprised if several copies of this one suddenly appear.
------------------
For our first hunt, my PH, Carl, enlisted the help of another PH, Hannes.
We used Hannes' vehicle, or "bakkie", outfitted with a hunting rack. The hunting rack occupies the bed of the small pickup truck, with seats for the clients just behind the cab, rifle racks, and padded bars to the front and side of the seats which may be used as arm or rifle rests.
Hannes was a very interesting fellow, very Teutonic in appearance, very energetic. He had a 9mm pistol in his belt, and placed his battered Remington Model 700 in .375 H&H, topped with Schmidt and Bender scope, in the rifle rack.
We went to property owned by Lollie Fourie, where we saw kudu, eland, gemsbok, wildebeest, warthog, and giraffe. The PH's spotted a wildebeest herd which had a very large bull, and the hunt was on. We kept getting glimpses of the bull, but no shooting opportunities. Finally, the herd was passing through some brush where there was a bit of a window. The PH's told me to take aim on that window, and be ready for the bull to pass. "He is coming, he is coming ... 7 metres, ... 3 metres, ... take him! Take him quickly!"
I took aim on the front shoulder, and squeezed the trigger just as he started to turn away. He appeared to fall and roll in a cloud of dust, rolling behind some bush. The PH's were happy, saying "That is a good shot! He may be down!"
We hurried over behind the bush with Pete, the tracker. There was blood, and tracks, ... but no wildebeest. Now the work started.
Pete and the PH's followed the tracks, stopping often to confer in Afrikaans. At one point the wildebeest stopped to rest and bellow. Hannes walked, stooping low, with his rifle held behind his back as if to hide it from the animals (or perhaps to protect it from the thornbushes?). The wildebeest then ran a bit further, and Hannes and Pete ran after it. A call came out in Afrikaans, and Carl said to me, "Come quickly! Quickly!" What I came to learn is that in PH-speak this means, "Please come here and kill this animal before I have to chase it some more."
I followed Carl and arrived, winded, at the spot Hannes and Pete had taken, about 30 metres from the wildebeest, which was under a tree. I took aim and shot, and had my first African trophy. The ritual of posing the animal and hunters for pictures followed.
Hannes' bakkie had a folddown tailgate with rollers on the bars, to help in rolling the large animal into the back of the truck. We all mounted up for the ride to the fellow with the facilities for skinning and meatcutting.
On the way, Hannes asked me, "Would you like a beer?" I replied, "No, it's too early." I realized from his reaction that what I had really been asked was, "With your kill, are you through hunting for this afternoon?" and that my reply had been taken to mean that I wanted to hunt further. We took a circuitous route looking for more animals, but darkness fell, and we were done.
At the lodge that night, a large group of investors in the ranch were present for dinner. Although most of the chatter was in Afrikaans, they toasted my success in English, and erupted in approval when I spoke the only phrase of Afrikaans I knew, meaning "thank you very much," pronounced phonetically as "buy-a-donkey."
------------------
For our first hunt, my PH, Carl, enlisted the help of another PH, Hannes.
We used Hannes' vehicle, or "bakkie", outfitted with a hunting rack. The hunting rack occupies the bed of the small pickup truck, with seats for the clients just behind the cab, rifle racks, and padded bars to the front and side of the seats which may be used as arm or rifle rests.
Hannes was a very interesting fellow, very Teutonic in appearance, very energetic. He had a 9mm pistol in his belt, and placed his battered Remington Model 700 in .375 H&H, topped with Schmidt and Bender scope, in the rifle rack.
We went to property owned by Lollie Fourie, where we saw kudu, eland, gemsbok, wildebeest, warthog, and giraffe. The PH's spotted a wildebeest herd which had a very large bull, and the hunt was on. We kept getting glimpses of the bull, but no shooting opportunities. Finally, the herd was passing through some brush where there was a bit of a window. The PH's told me to take aim on that window, and be ready for the bull to pass. "He is coming, he is coming ... 7 metres, ... 3 metres, ... take him! Take him quickly!"
I took aim on the front shoulder, and squeezed the trigger just as he started to turn away. He appeared to fall and roll in a cloud of dust, rolling behind some bush. The PH's were happy, saying "That is a good shot! He may be down!"
We hurried over behind the bush with Pete, the tracker. There was blood, and tracks, ... but no wildebeest. Now the work started.
Pete and the PH's followed the tracks, stopping often to confer in Afrikaans. At one point the wildebeest stopped to rest and bellow. Hannes walked, stooping low, with his rifle held behind his back as if to hide it from the animals (or perhaps to protect it from the thornbushes?). The wildebeest then ran a bit further, and Hannes and Pete ran after it. A call came out in Afrikaans, and Carl said to me, "Come quickly! Quickly!" What I came to learn is that in PH-speak this means, "Please come here and kill this animal before I have to chase it some more."
I followed Carl and arrived, winded, at the spot Hannes and Pete had taken, about 30 metres from the wildebeest, which was under a tree. I took aim and shot, and had my first African trophy. The ritual of posing the animal and hunters for pictures followed.
Hannes' bakkie had a folddown tailgate with rollers on the bars, to help in rolling the large animal into the back of the truck. We all mounted up for the ride to the fellow with the facilities for skinning and meatcutting.
On the way, Hannes asked me, "Would you like a beer?" I replied, "No, it's too early." I realized from his reaction that what I had really been asked was, "With your kill, are you through hunting for this afternoon?" and that my reply had been taken to mean that I wanted to hunt further. We took a circuitous route looking for more animals, but darkness fell, and we were done.
At the lodge that night, a large group of investors in the ranch were present for dinner. Although most of the chatter was in Afrikaans, they toasted my success in English, and erupted in approval when I spoke the only phrase of Afrikaans I knew, meaning "thank you very much," pronounced phonetically as "buy-a-donkey."
Blue Wildebeest
For our first hunt, my PH, Carl, enlisted the help of another PH, Hannes.
We used Hannes' vehicle, or "bakkie", outfitted with a hunting rack. The hunting rack occupies the bed of the small pickup truck, with seats for the clients just behind the cab, rifle racks, and padded bars to the front and side of the seats which may be used as arm or rifle rests.
Hannes was a very interesting fellow, very Teutonic in appearance, very energetic. He had a 9mm pistol in his belt, and placed his battered Remington Model 700 in .375 H&H, topped with Schmidt and Bender scope, in the rifle rack.
We went to property owned by Lollie Fourie, where we saw kudu, eland, gemsbok, wildebeest, warthog, and giraffe. The PH's spotted a wildebeest herd which had a very large bull, and the hunt was on. We kept getting glimpses of the bull, but no shooting opportunities. Finally, the herd was passing through some brush where there was a bit of a window. The PH's told me to take aim on that window, and be ready for the bull to pass. "He is coming, he is coming ... 7 metres, ... 3 metres, ... take him! Take him quickly!"
I took aim on the front shoulder, and squeezed the trigger just as he started to turn away. He appeared to fall and roll in a cloud of dust, rolling behind some bush. The PH's were happy, saying "That is a good shot! He may be down!"
We hurried over behind the bush with Pete, the tracker. There was blood, and tracks, ... but no wildebeest. Now the work started.
Pete and the PH's followed the tracks, stopping often to confer in Afrikaans. At one point the wildebeest stopped to rest and bellow. Hannes walked, stooping low, with his rifle held behind his back as if to hide it from the animals (or perhaps to protect it from the thornbushes?). The wildebeest then ran a bit further, and Hannes and Pete ran after it. A call came out in Afrikaans, and Carl said to me, "Come quickly! Quickly!" What I came to learn is that in PH-speak this means, "Please come here and kill this animal before I have to chase it some more."
I followed Carl and arrived, winded, at the spot Hannes and Pete had taken, about 30 metres from the wildebeest, which was under a tree. I took aim and shot, and had my first African trophy. The ritual of posing the animal and hunters for pictures followed.
Hannes' bakkie had a folddown tailgate with rollers on the bars, to help in rolling the large animal into the back of the truck. We all mounted up for the ride to the fellow with the facilities for skinning and meatcutting.
On the way, Hannes asked me, "Would you like a beer?" I replied, "No, it's too early." I realized from his reaction that what I had really been asked was, "With your kill, are you through hunting for this afternoon?" and that my reply had been taken to mean that I wanted to hunt further. We took a circuitous route looking for more animals, but darkness fell, and we were done.
At the lodge that night, a large group of investors in the ranch were present for dinner. Although most of the chatter was in Afrikaans, they toasted my success in English, and erupted in approval when I spoke the only phrase of Afrikaans I knew, meaning "thank you very much," pronounced phonetically as "buy-a-donkey."
Unwelcome Words From Your PH
Yesterday we were seated in a blind made from tree limbs and brush, hunting for a good kudu bull.
I had been watching several at a distance through my scope, waiting for the best one to come to a spot where I had a good shot. That is when the PH whispered words, in his Afrikaner accent, which I found unwelcome:
"You must remain very still. The buffalo is coming."
Monday, August 08, 2005
Getting To Africa
The first step was getting from Portland to Johannesburg.
This involved taking a flight from Portland to San Francisco, leaving at 7 pm on Friday night. At 10 PM we caught the red-eye from San Francisco to Washington (Dulles), arriving at about 6 am Saturday morning.
The waiting area for the South African airways flight from Dulles to Johannesburg was interesting. One group of people included a young man who was a ringer for Clive Owen, with the curly dark hair, the dark stubble, and the sleepy yet somehow leonine eyes. The illusion suffered a bit when, without being the least self-conscious, he reached deep into his nose, removed a wad of nasal mucous, inspected it, and flicked it to the floor.
At about 8:45 am, we got on the 747 for Johannesburg. We had bulkhead seats on the upper deck, sharing them with a woman who was a retired nurse educator. She was traveling with a group of 19 young women, many of them apparently couples if one is to judge by the public displays of affection. Her daughter was to marry her partner in a ceremony to take place in the Krueger game reserve.
Our first hints that we were not flying an American airline came with the first meal service. The food was actually good, and the silverware included a metal tableknife.
The flight from Dulles to Johannesburg was in excess of 18 hours. Every passenger was given a packet with warm fuzzy socks, an eye shade, a toothbrush, and toothpaste ("Aerodent"). Every 3 or 4 hours they would come through the cabin with a meal. The food quality continued to beat the pants off anything I've seen from American airlines. Every seat had it's own video screen and remote control, offering a selection of movies, TV shows, music, and video games.
We landed once in Accra, Ghana, to refuel, change crews, and take on passengers. Then we arrived in Johannesburg at about 7:30 am on Sunday morning.
The most interesting part of the process of passport and customs checks was going through the South African Police office to obtain the permit to bring in the firearms for the hunt. That involved presenting copies of passports, proof from US Customs of ownership of the guns, formal letters from the Professional Hunter explaining that we were invited to hunt particular species on particular dates, and a completed 12 page with the details of the rifles, serial numbers, ammunition, and personal information. The police compared the serial numbers to ensure they matched, and then without further customs inspections of any sort we wheeled our gear through customs and to the lobby, where Ivan was waiting for us.
Voila. We are here.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
August 2005 - Going On Safari
Once again, I am going on a trip for much of August which will take me away from my usual blog site. If I have internet access at all, I will be able to post from here.
This year, I am going on safari, in South Africa. This is a dream that I was afraid to let myself have, for a long time. I decided that this would be a suitable 50th birthday present to myself, rather than one of those desultory affairs with black balloons and gag gifts relating to advanced age.
Every winter in Portland, there is a Sportsman's Show, where guides and professional hunters are among those vying for the attention of those who want an experience out of the ordinary. I wanted to take my 12 year old daughter with me on this trip, and she joined me in going to the Sportsman's Show to audition the different outfits. We went to each of the booths offering African adventures, and posed the same scenario: I wanted to give myself a safari as a birthday present, and wanted to take my daughter as my "chief observer." Then we waited for the reaction.
The most common reaction would be that they would flash a smile towards my daughter, and then proceed to ignore her for the rest of the spiel. One fellow seemed like he would be great to hunt with, if only adults were in attendance. Another young man made a presentation which was nervous and a little sad, focusing on the fact that if you booked with his family, the airfare was included in the price. Then we talked to Ivan and Judy.
Ivan and Judy Bezuidenhout run Cambridge Safaris (http://camsaf.co.za/). They seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of a father bringing his daughter, and could visualize and explain what such a trip could look like for each of us. My bullshit meter never twitched while we were talking. We got references to check. Like all well selected references, their description of their experience and their desire to go back with Ivan and Judy again made us feel we were on the right track. We booked the trip, and we fly out of Portland on Sunday, to fly into Johannesburg on Sunday.
This year, I am going on safari, in South Africa. This is a dream that I was afraid to let myself have, for a long time. I decided that this would be a suitable 50th birthday present to myself, rather than one of those desultory affairs with black balloons and gag gifts relating to advanced age.
Every winter in Portland, there is a Sportsman's Show, where guides and professional hunters are among those vying for the attention of those who want an experience out of the ordinary. I wanted to take my 12 year old daughter with me on this trip, and she joined me in going to the Sportsman's Show to audition the different outfits. We went to each of the booths offering African adventures, and posed the same scenario: I wanted to give myself a safari as a birthday present, and wanted to take my daughter as my "chief observer." Then we waited for the reaction.
The most common reaction would be that they would flash a smile towards my daughter, and then proceed to ignore her for the rest of the spiel. One fellow seemed like he would be great to hunt with, if only adults were in attendance. Another young man made a presentation which was nervous and a little sad, focusing on the fact that if you booked with his family, the airfare was included in the price. Then we talked to Ivan and Judy.
Ivan and Judy Bezuidenhout run Cambridge Safaris (http://camsaf.co.za/). They seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of a father bringing his daughter, and could visualize and explain what such a trip could look like for each of us. My bullshit meter never twitched while we were talking. We got references to check. Like all well selected references, their description of their experience and their desire to go back with Ivan and Judy again made us feel we were on the right track. We booked the trip, and we fly out of Portland on Sunday, to fly into Johannesburg on Sunday.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Test - Getting ready for August 2005
In preparation for being away from my usual blog in August of 2005, I am testing to make sure that this blog still works.
Pat Fitzgerald
Friday, September 24, 2004
Bedside Manner
George Bush reminds me of a story they told us in medical school.
A doctor with great bedside manner and terrible judgement rushed to the bedside of the patient, where all the family was in attendance.
He decided the patient needed intravenous potassium. Rather than dripping it in slowly, he pushed it in all at once, causing the patient's immediate death.
Bedside manner intact, he turned to the family and said, "If only I'd gotten here a moment sooner."
A doctor with great bedside manner and terrible judgement rushed to the bedside of the patient, where all the family was in attendance.
He decided the patient needed intravenous potassium. Rather than dripping it in slowly, he pushed it in all at once, causing the patient's immediate death.
Bedside manner intact, he turned to the family and said, "If only I'd gotten here a moment sooner."
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Osama vs George - What's The Score?
For all of George's "I'm going to kick ass and take names" bluster, he has failed to knock Osama out. It is not clear who is ahead on points in this bout.
Osama has obliged us to spend monstrous amounts of money on security, and has enticed us into spending even greater sums on military adventures. This has changed us from a country deciding how to invest a surplus into a country going massively into debt. We will have to balance the books someday, and that will require forgoing any number of worthy uses of our resources.
Osama has changed the U.S. from a country with a Bill of Rights into a country with secret police, secret courts, secret warrants, secret searches, secret evidence which cannot be confronted, and detention without charges.
Insert poignant ending statement here.
Osama has obliged us to spend monstrous amounts of money on security, and has enticed us into spending even greater sums on military adventures. This has changed us from a country deciding how to invest a surplus into a country going massively into debt. We will have to balance the books someday, and that will require forgoing any number of worthy uses of our resources.
Osama has changed the U.S. from a country with a Bill of Rights into a country with secret police, secret courts, secret warrants, secret searches, secret evidence which cannot be confronted, and detention without charges.
Insert poignant ending statement here.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Plus, ca change ....
H.L. Mencken, quoted in the 9/04 "Funny Times":
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by an endless series of hobogblins, most of them imaginary."
A tip of the hat to Bill Watson, aka "Bob Cratchett"
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by an endless series of hobogblins, most of them imaginary."
A tip of the hat to Bill Watson, aka "Bob Cratchett"
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Perusing The Books While Visiting
You know how you will check out the books on the shelf when visiting a home?
I don't know if I should have been concerned tonight when my hostess had "Meditations For Women Who Do Too Much" right next to "The Encyclopedia Of Serial Killers."
I don't know if I should have been concerned tonight when my hostess had "Meditations For Women Who Do Too Much" right next to "The Encyclopedia Of Serial Killers."
Friday, August 20, 2004
Another Argument For School Vouchers
From a chain of private schools which enrolls a large number of immigrants:
"... the curriculum consisted of a slim workbook riddled with errors, including:
_The United States has 53 states but the "flag has not yet been updated to reflect the addition of the last three states" ? Hawaii, Alaska and Puerto Rico.
_World War II began in 1938 and ended in 1942.
_There are two houses of Congress ? the Senate and the House, and "one is for Democrats and the other is for the Republicans, respectively."
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=519&ncid=519&e=4&u=/ap/20040809/ap_on_re_us/private_school_investigation
"... the curriculum consisted of a slim workbook riddled with errors, including:
_The United States has 53 states but the "flag has not yet been updated to reflect the addition of the last three states" ? Hawaii, Alaska and Puerto Rico.
_World War II began in 1938 and ended in 1942.
_There are two houses of Congress ? the Senate and the House, and "one is for Democrats and the other is for the Republicans, respectively."
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=519&ncid=519&e=4&u=/ap/20040809/ap_on_re_us/private_school_investigation
