Pals, part II

I first met my buddy Joe when we were in a church college group together. I don’t even remember how our friendship began, I think we got into a small group or something and it started from there. He’s a guy that anybody would be fortunate to know, let alone call “friend”. There’s a saying that goes something like, “When everybody else walks out, friends walk in.” That saying epitomizes Joe. He & I don’t see each other near as much as we used to since we both had families but I know if I ever need him, all I have to do is pick up the phone. I named one of my sons after him, and I’ll be pleased if he turns out like my friend. Joe is probably the most easygoing guy you’ll ever meet. Whatever the plan is, he’s up for it, always anxious for a new experience and to just be with the guys. So I wasn’t all that surprised that he said “Yeah, that sounds cool!” when I invited him to go wild hog hunting, despite the fact that he’d never hunted and only shot a gun 2 or 3 times. Rob accompanied us on this trip but didn’t hunt because he had broken his hand the week before and couldn’t hold a gun in his injured paw. Only a sliver of the rising sun was visible when we arrived at the ranch and met our hunting guides Tom and Ed. They briefly talked over our hunt plan and then Tom said, “One guy goes with me, the other two go with Ed.” I looked at Joe and his face spoke a thousand words. His efforts to conceal his anxiety were valiant but totally ineffective. He even volunteered to go with Tom so Rob could go with me. What a cool guy. We hopped into the trucks and they took off in opposite directions. I asked Ed, “So are we meeting them someplace?” to which he replied, “Nah, they’ll go to the other side of the valley and we’ll meet up with them later.” I have hunted with Tom before and, while he’s a great hunter, he’s not the most gregarious guy you’ll ever meet. I felt a twinge of guilt because Joe was stuck with this cantankerous character. But at the same time, I grinned a little grin. Joe’s such a flexible, cool-headed guy… I knew this would test him pretty good. We cruised the hills for 30 minutes or so, scanning for signs of our quarry. We eventually found ourselves on the top of a ridge. The topography could best be described as a big “U”. We were positioned on the top of one side. Across the small valley at top of the other side were Tom & Joe. I peered through my binoculars and could barely make out Tom’s truck. They were maybe 800 yards away and it felt good to know that Joe was over there even if there was nothing I could do to help him. We glassed the area intently when Tom’s voice suddenly blared through the radio, “Alright, we’re into some pigs over here.” There was a pause that seemed like an eternity and then we heard a shot ring out. Moments later, another. A few moments more, yet another. Tom’s frustrated voice buzzed across the radio, “They’re coming your way.” After an eternity, we spotted a lone porker climbing a steep ridge perpendicular to the ridge we were on. I waited patiently and it when made it’s way to a small clearing I put him down for a dirt nap with a lead pill to his head. Rob and I started the long drag down the ridge while Ed worked his way around in the truck. About 45 minutes later, the hog was gutted out and we were swinging it into the back of the truck. Just then we heard a three more shots in the distance. Tom’s voice came over the radio that Joe had gotten one. “Alright!!” I thought, and a smile came across my face. Tom told Ed to swing over and pick up Joe while he went after a pig for himself. We made our way to Joe’s location and I saw something I’ll never forget. There stood Joe, in the middle of a huge field of waist-high barley with a look of both pleasure and panic on his face. He raced to the truck and asked me, “Do you have any more bullets? My gun is empty and I can’t find my extras!” I said, “Huh? What for?” Joe said in a panicked voice, “It’s not dead!” I laughed and gave him two bullets from my gun and we slowly approached the injured hog which was laying in the barley. At our approach, the hog jumped to its feet and ran. Joe leveled his gun and fired. The hog tumbled and then staggered to its feet again. Another shot knocked him down but he was still kicking. “Gimme another one!” I gave Joe my last round and he placed it behind the hog’s ear, finally putting it out of its now very apparent misery. Now for the fun part. I don’t mind dressing out a harvested critter, but the gutting out of this hog was especially bad. It had been shot several times, at least once through the stomach. With the hog on its back I took my knife and made a slice up the belly. Immediately stomach acids and half-digested barley spilled out of the abdomen. The stench was enough to give a hyena a case of the dry heaves from 50 yards and I was positioned squarely above it. Noxious fumes rose into my face and I began to turn green. Several times I wanted to puke but Joe and Rob eagerly stood by with cameras hoping to catch me in a moment of weakness so I choked it back and finished the job. Three years later (or maybe it just seemed that long)the job was done. After skinning and hosing them down at the barn we dropped them at the butcher where they would be made into some of the best tasting chops & sausage you’ve ever had. We returned to our hotel to clean up and then went to lunch at the barbecue shack. If you ever make it to Paso Robles, you owe it to yourself to eat at this place. It’s right off of Highway 46 and the 101. They have the best tasting tri-tip sandwiches I have ever had. They come with a side of french fries that would fill a large suitcase. Joe earned his nickname, “The Grubmaster” at this place by consuming a tri-tip sandwich, a side of fries, a side of 8 onion rings (each roughly equal in size to the spare tire on my truck) and a large DIET coke. We then returned to the hotel for some napping, ESPN, and lounging about in our underwear. The next morning we picked up our hogs from the butcher and headed home, stopping at the barbecue joint for an encore of The Grubmaster’s eating performance. It was a great trip, one that I will always treasure, along with the other fishing and hunting trips we’ve since taken.

Joe and his family are considering a move to Washington. Man, if that happens it's going to be a total bummer. I guess I should feel fortunate... most people live a whole lifetime without having a friend like Joe. I've been blessed to call him my best friend for 15 years. If he goes, I should wish him well and just treasure the good times. Nahh, I think I'll just be bitter.