We’re on our way home right now from a mid-Asian ibex hunt in Kyrgistan. We hunted from horseback starting at 13,000 feet way over near the border of China. Here’s a little photo album of pictures that you won’t see in the magazine.

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Break time.

Craig and I shoot the breeze while on a 10 minute break during a 15 mile ride up, up and up to our spike camp.

Managin' my biz.

A quick call home on the sat phone after a cold dinner in a cold high valley.

Home sweet home.

This was the site of our somewhat bleak campsite. Warm sleeping bags were very nice. Sweaty horse blankets as thermarests....not so much.

Little Solomon.

There was a big one too. They were both very good horsemen and very helpful.

Where the ibex live.

Stunning views in the Tien Shan Mountains

Superhero

Check out the guide's pose. He wasn't goofin'.

Tea time.

A nice lunch on the last warm day of the trip.

Success.

Horses make it possible.

This area of the Tien Shan Mountains has very thin air. Between the high elevation, the lack of vegetation and the topography breathing and moving around is very difficult.

The key to our success.

A happy horse at rest.

Our traditional Kergy hats.

I don't think Craig was as fired up about wearing his as I was. Either way, it was a nice gift from the outfitter.

Real men....

can borrow their wife's pink covered Kindle with impunity.

Capitalism

Craig and I wrapped up our taping of the cultural pieces around the mid-Asian ibex in the heart of the formerly Soviet town center of Bishkek. Surrounded by communist buildings we found this microcosm of entrepreneurship. The man who took this photo had this menagerie, a digital camera, a car battery, an inverter and a photo printer all under the shade of a tree. He would sell you a snapshot like this for about $2.

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Fun Pics with Boddington in Kyrgistan

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Craig and Donna Boddington ready for their water buffalo hunt in Australia.

I thought about 25 clever ways to write the tale of me and this buffalo. Finally, I concluded the only way to do it right is simply to say Craig Boddington’s one hell of a good guy, a good friend and a great coworker.

Now let me be clear: All the guys I work with are my special little flowers in their own ways. Mike Schoby is hilarious, loyal, effective and direct. Kevin Steele is funny, idiosyncratic, does the best job of giving me hell, and keeps my eyes open to the beauty and wonder of our locations.

And Craig? I work with Craig the most. This is because he books the most interesting hunts and I cherry pick assignments. Craig and I are definitely the odd couple (he’s Oscar). He’s a very amiable slob who is unflappable. I’m sure he’s a genius from listening to him talk about game animals and ballistics. We all know of his achievements, and yet his ego is tame.

I’ve been accused of being the “president and treasurer” of the Boddington Fan Club. There are worse accusations. Truth be told, when I interviewed for this job seven-and-a-half years ago, I’d watched exactly 20 minutes of hunting television (an hour prior to my interview) and read exactly zero pages of a hunting magazine. I hunted like I do everything else, and it didn’t occur to me to read about it. The point is, the day I met Craig I hadn’t a clue who he was. So yes, today I’m one of Craig’s biggest fans, but Craig the Man is one of the rare cases of being the same guy as Craig the Celebrity.

When Craig called with his bribe, I was scheduled to take my daughter to South Africa with our big annual company safari at Harry Classen’s place in the Kalahari.

“I need you to come to Australia and tape an episode for my new show in late August.”

“Can’t. I’m going to South Africa with Kevin.”

“You can shoot a buffalo if you come to Australia.”

“No can do. Kevin said I can take my kid and I really want her to see Africa before I get fired.”

“I’m taking Carolyn (his younger daughter) next year. You can bring your daughter and we’ll make a show about teenage girls hunting South Africa.”

“Deal.”

I’m sure my daughter would have been just fine seeing Africa for the first time with a bunch of stinky old men from our industry, but I’m also sure she’ll enjoy it more next August with another teenage girl. Again, “thanks Craig.”

Craig and Greg looking into the brush for a Houdinin buffalo.

Hunting water buffalo with Greg Pennicott is fun. It’s also pretty easy. The camp was so far north in Australia that going further north meant drowning and being devoured by crocs. We bounced around on floodplains for a few days, glassing up buffalo, stalking a few, shooting hogs and taping Donna’s buffalo hunt. The sun cooked our brains to mush and the truck’s bouncing fused our spines into a starving chiropractor’s dream. The outfitter took the phrase “a hungry hunter is good hunter” very literally; we ate nothing Day 1, and little while afield after that. Craig and I were on board to take cull bulls, but everything we saw was either too big or too small.

The final morning came with a colorful sunrise. We still needed to hunt bantang 12 hours away. Things were about to get flexible. Mid-morning, we returned to an area where a good cull bull was spotted the first evening. What do you know? He was in the neighborhood. The stalk was good but Craig missed him with the first three shots.

Ha! Just kidding. He took the bull nicely with some fancy shmancy double rifle.

I was up to bat. The good eyeballs guiding us watched a bull disappear into a mud hole toward the edge of the massive plain. The landscape appeared very flat, but buffalo would nonetheless appear and disappear. We stalked in the direction of the hole, and due to the time crunch, a big cow was now on the menu as we cut distance. Donna ran the camera as we all stumbled through the grass clumps.

The cow spotted us killer apes and our tools, and wisely ambled off. We neared the hole and the muddy bull reappeared. He stopped to make sense of the situation. I shot and hit a touch lower than the location suggested by the guide, but it was a good killing shot, and after a couple insurance policies the bull went down very near the mud hole.

Good friend Susan Hagen assembled an excellent gallery of images you can find on Craig’s Facebook page. If you haven’t tuned into The Boddington Experience, you need to. It’s good. Let’s do some quick math: Boddingtons know-how + my mad camera skills + incredible locations = yep, you should check it out.

A good team.

Building a snow cave is fun, but these reflectors make it downright cozy.

I live in Montana. “Montana” is a Mexican word for “mountain”. You’ll never guess why they picked this name.

I’m also cheap. “Evarts” is a Dutch last name and because nobody bothered to fight racism against Dutch-Americans, I’ve succumbed to the racial stereotype of my people being cheap. Hurtful terms like “Dutch Metal” and “Dutch Treat” broke my spirit and now I pinch pennies so hard electrons get knocked loose in my fingers.

Creativity prevails when hunting, mountains and cheap collide. One of the biggest challenges related to being in the mountains is temperature variance. Temperatures vary wildly and a 20-degree difference from one night to the next can occur year round. On a normal trip this means whichever sleeping bag you pack will be the wrong one roughly half the time.

I created these heat reflectors five years ago using free Low-E household insulation from my friend Patrick’s remodel. I then cut them to size using a Therm-a-rest for a template. I cut them short to reduce weight. They are designed to reflect the heat of the torso mainly. I then trimmed them with Gorilla Tape to avoid fraying. They weigh 5 ounces and can be rolled up within the Therm-a-rest. There are versions of this reflective sleeping pad on the market that retail for under $20.  The advantages of this one are; I know it lasts for years, it’s free, it’s a little lighter and I know it really reflects heat well. If you can’t find the Low-E free from a remodel, Habitat for Humanity store or construction site you can buy a 125 foot by 4 foot roll for $181 and make a bunch of them and give away or sell the extras. A representative from Low-E suggested using “slab shield”. So, if you’re buying the product get the slab shield.

My family slept on these reflectors during hundreds of nights over the years. We use them in snow caves in the winter, sleeping on the ground in spring and fall and as a barrier to cold on our cots. Over the years we figured out that there are three heat settings with the reflectors. Low: Between he ground and the Thermarest. Medium: Between the Thermarest and the sleeping bag. High: Inside the sleeping bag.

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Low-E is rocket science, but this reflector is not.

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Turbo Charge Your Sleeping Bag

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Sunday 11:00 AM. Torture devices removed. I give up.

While packing for a weekend of scouting I threw a pair of high-budge boots in the truck. I used them on a coyote hunt in Illinois. I’m scouting for elk and I felt wearing them on flat stuff for four full days of hunting would be sufficient to make them usable. It wasn’t.

Friday morning we started up a steep trail and then hiked overland to find some lookouts. Even though the labeling indicated the company designed the boots specifically for elk hunting, within .8 miles I was breaking into my first aid kit and applying moleskin to the blister on my left heel and adjusting the laces. At one mile we turned around. Walking further would have put me out of commission in short order.

I spent the rest of Friday and all day Saturday in my flip-flops. I’ve spent a lot of time in Africa so I know flip-flops can be great mountain shoes for the right guy, but I’m accustomed to boots.

Me playing Ghandi. It hurt.

Saturday we tried to make the most of me being bootless so we drove a road that turned out to be exceedingly treacherous. Not wise. We got in deeper than I expected faster than I expected. Had we stuck the truck, I would have hiked out in my flip-flops.

Sunday, I really wanted to explore a valley about six miles off the road. I patched up my left heal, donned my best wool socks, laced the boots very carefully and set out. By the two mile mark my right heal was blistering and I was out of moleskin. I trudged on barefoot another mile then gave up.

As I limped back to the truck, losing an entire day of scouting, I thought a great deal about where I went wrong. I easily could have completed Sunday’s hike in sneakers. It was idiotic not to pack them. In my humble opinion having a pair of boots fail me in the mountains is emotionally just below finding my wife in bed with a Canadian. I also couldn’t help but daydream about the gorgeous pair of Kenetrek Mountain Extremes sitting lonely on my boot shelf in my basement.

Long Walk in Flip-Flops. I'm very grateful we didn't get stuck.

I know there are certain readers who lose their minds when I endorse products on this blog so I’m going to be very clear here. My boss buys my boots. I spend so much time in the mountains making him mountains of money I just send him the receipt. And if I can get him to pay for Kenetrek boots, I can clearly get him to buy me any boot in the world. I’m that good. The point is this; I can have any boot in the world, therefore, I’m objective.

I tape mountain hunts for Petersen’s Hunting TV. My resume includies B.C. mountain goat, Bezoar ibex, Gredos ibex, not even naming the easy, boring ibex, Carpathian chamois, Pyrenean chamois, desert bighorn, mule deer and lots and lots of elk. There is only one boot that I stuff in my duffel with complete confidence and that’s the Kenetrek. As a side note, when I first received my Kenetreks I cheated on the break in miles prior to a chamois hunt. Guess what? I taped that hunt comfy and blister free.

My Ghandiesque hike down the stony path allowed me to meditate on a few things. 1) If you’re coming out West, go cheap on your rifle or optics before your boots. You may or may not shoot. You will hike. 2) Scouting is about learning the turf, but also about working out the kinks before the starting shot is fired on opening day. I’m grateful I figured this boot fail out in June rather than on October 20th. 3) If it’s your first time out in the Mountain West or you’re trying any new tricks, throw every viable piece of footwear you own in a duffle. You may be surprised what works. My flip-flops kept me in the game…at least a little. 4) This one eliminates the previous three. Just put in some O.T. and buy the Kenetreks.

I'll never cheat on my Kenetreks again.

Alyssa and Cheyanne; Hunting Buddies with a Wabbit and a CZ USA Scout .22

I’m a hunter by culture and by practice. My daughter Alyssa is a hard-wired hunter. I know this because the guys I work with, the stars of Petersen’s Hunting TV, are hard-wired hunters. Yes, I’m bragging a little, but I had nothing to do with it aside from putting a thunderstick in her paw and dragging her around in the woods endlessly.

This weekend a friend and I started scouting for elk season here in Montana in the Nunyabizness Mountains. Our camp had three girls between the ages of 11 and 14, mine is 13. After dinner on Saturday we loaded the two younger girls in the back of the truck (OMG kids still survive riding in the back of a truck in America!?! Call child services!). We set my kid’s .22 in the cab, filled the tiny magazine and set out to troll the sides of the forest roads for wabbits. I have to say “wabbits” rather than rabbits because this is the official term for the animal amongst 11 to 13 year old girls.

My passenger soon eyeballed a wabbit in an opening sixty yards off the road on the edge of a super thick thicket of trees.  My girl offloaded from the bed of the truck, grabbed her little CZ USA Scout .22 loaded it, sawed 20 yards off the distance in her bedazzled blue velour hunting pants, brought the rifle up for an offhand shot, squeezed and missed. She worked the bolt settled the open site on the wabbit, hit it and lit up with genuine glee.

She scooted up to finish it and it makes it into the cover of  the very thick grove of trees. Our party fanned out to find the wabbit and I caught movement of what appeared to be a miraculously revived wabbit. I called for Alyssa but by the time she made it over I lost site of the critter.

She was relentless in her pursuit and eventually circled back around to her marker for her first shot and what do you know? There’s a live bunny sitting right there. She shot it from close, cleared her rifle and headed back into the thicket. The next thing I heard was, “There’s two Papa!”

Her only regret? She wishes she had played it cool when she discovered the matched set.

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We hunted the alligators deep in the swamp using buoys baited with hog lungs, then we switched to spot and stalk.  At the end of day two Craig took a “whopper” from a lake on skiff using a baited buoy under perfect, golden evening light.

After using a variety of strategies for the show, Hoppy wanted to demonstrate hunting them from a skiff at night. Being a team player, I grabbed the Wicked Ridge crossbow and hopped on the bow to do my part. Here’s my handiwork with a string gun combined with Craig’s artistry with a camera. I hope you enjoy it.

Here I am filling the Pure Hydration Bladder from a lagoon open to a variety of types of mammal poo.

I rarely recommend products. I should because I spend months in the field every year. I destroy backpacks, boots and long johns like a hobo. I guess part of it is that I don’t feel like I can stand on the floor of a trade show, handle some gear and say, “Gee what innovation, y’all should use this thingamajiggy.” I feel obligated to use a piece of equipment extensively in the field before I’ll say boo about it.

I’m going to tell you about a water purification system. I received it months ago, but I didn’t want the bad juju of a fellow hunter hating me as he messes his pants repeatedly while trying to get off a mountain after using a purification system I suggested but didn’t test thoroughly.

Last summer, Rocky Mountain Survival Gear sent me a box of their purification products, including the Aquapure Traveller. At the time, my fall schedule included hunting with my kid in Montana, then taping shows in Sweden, Kansas, Hungary, California, New Mexico, Colorado and Scotland. I told them they’d have to just wait on their review. Who the heck cares if this product saves me from the water in Sweden, Colorado or Scotland? That’s not really impressive. I know it’s sketchy, but I wanted next-level, third-world sketchy.

Finally, the time came. I took my family to the jungles of Costa Rica for two weeks. I knew I would find abundant filthy water. But before I began my testing, I first checked my prescription of ciprofloxacin (cipro). Cipro is a must have if you travel like me.

A monkey on my back beats a deadly microorganism in my GI tract.

You can see from the first photo in the gallery below, I eased into the testing. In our jungle home near Punta Uva, large cisterns captured rainwater that served as tap water. The water came off the roof, through a bunch of dirty pipes, then a screen covered with debris and into the faucet. Monkeys above my head each day led me to believe monkey excrement could make its way into this system easily.

After four trouble free days of drinking this water through the Aquapure Traveller, I chose to take it up a notch. We went for a walk in Cahuita National Park. It’s a fantastic place teeming with white-faced Capuchin monkeys, howler monkeys and sloths. Monkeys and me are pretty close digestively, so when they poop and it goes in the water — guess what.

Additionally, the place crawled with filthy and aggressive raccoons, and there are tamandua, paca, coati, armadillos caimans and iguanas. Of the birds, there are green ibis, yellow-crowned night herons, northern boat-billed herons, Swainson toucans, keel-billed toucans, rufous kingfishers and the Central American curassow. All of these animals poop, and all of this poop gets moved into the water by rain. All this filth and excrement in the neighborhood of standing open water seemed the perfect place to try out the Armoured Reservoir.

I found a small brackish lagoon, doublechecked the inline filter’s direction and installation, then added well over a liter and a half to my reservoir and started drinking. My wife, in-laws and daughter all cringed and gagged as I guzzled. They were all sure my entire GI tract would be prolapsed by evening. HA! I love it when the doubters are wrong. I experienced nary a gurgle in my gut over the next week. I had absolutely no problem drinking warm, brackish water that was a petri dish of monkey, raccoon, bird, fish and reptile feces.

monkey 2

I’m never happy until I break something. So, we took another jungle hike about a week later. I filled and refilled the Aquapure Traveller in every mud puddle I could find on the hike. My wife cringed each time. That of course motivated me to make it more and more disgusting. It reminded me of when I was at camp in seventh grade and a survival instructor told us we could eat earthworms. I ate 32 one day to outdo the kid who ate 31. By the way, always eat them headfirst. Otherwise they crawl up your esophagus. Who knew? One other thing, seventh grade girls won’t kiss boys who eat dozens of earthworms.

Finally, I found a deep depression from a horse’s hoof that was full of muddy water. The water was easily 80 degrees, and since a horse made the depression, the water held all the filth horses bring to the table. Filthy, muddy, jungle water that horses had stepped in before being exposed to sunlight and heated to 80 degrees. Perfect. Check the photos and believe me when I say, not even a gurgle. I did break the filter though by introducing too much sediment.

I didn’t touch the cipro — ever.

I talked to the distributor and she suggested in the future when I’m filling my Aquapure Traveller from the filthiest mud holes I can find that I use my bandana over the top of the bottle to eliminate some of the sediment. The sediment will pack the filter unnecessarily and shorten its life. This is a great idea.

One of the stars of "OUTBREAK" watching and waiting for my guts to fall out. Little does he know....

In addition to the inline filter on the Armoured Reservoir, the reservoir itself is perfectly designed. The entire top end opens for easy cleaning and drying. You really shouldn’t buy one that doesn’t open completely. The system to reclose the top is the best I’ve ever seen. It has no moving parts to get lost. Additionally, the hose is removable. If you’re trecking long dry distances you can take a number of resevoirs and only one hose. Finally, the material appears to be the toughest I’ve ever seen on a hydration resevoir.

The Aquapure Traveller can filter around 100 gallons of water at about 23 cents a liter. It makes the nastiest water taste great whether it’s from a rusty old tap, a puddle in an alley or a creek downstream from a cow pasture. It’s perfect for traveling, fishing, kayaking and anywhere else there’s plenty of contaminated water. The inline filter that I used with the Armoured Reservoir can be fitted to a majority of hydration systems and also filters around 100 gallons of water. Both of the filters eliminate viruses and bacteria pathogens including cryptosporidium and giardia. Additionally, they remove bad tastes, odors, sediment, fecal matter, heavy metals and chemicals including VOCs, SOCs and chorine. All of the filters have a fail safe — when the filter is done, water no longer will pass through it.

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On the Island of Mallorca de Palma with Craig and Tomeu Blanquer

It’s the spring of the Spanish goat for me this year. It seems like an odd time of year to be chasing goats but I’m on the island of Mallorca de Palma in the Mediterranean as I write this. I just wrapped up taping an episode on Balearian Boc for Boddington’s new show “The Boddington Experience” with local hunter Tomeu Blanquer and a buddy of Boddo’s named Saso Ivanov. At the moment it’s o dark thirty, the fog is thick on the island and I’m waiting for Craig in the hotel lobby so we can fly to the mainland and hunt Beceite ibex. In a few weeks I’ll return to Madrid with Mike Schoby to hunt Beceite ibex again.

The Phoenecians  (you remember those guys) released the Balearian Boc here about 4000 years ago and the locals are working hard to prevent feral goats from ruining the genetics. A true Balearian Boc is very red with short hair and a black cross that runs up its spine and down its front shoulders. It’s the only big game allowed on the island. All other goats are culled on sight.

We drove a series of switchbacks that were so numerous and tight it could be a practical joke. The roads are lined by rock walls built over the past thousands of years to contain animals and terrace the land for agriculture. It is stunning to see how even the walls are in dimension when they are created by so many various shaped rocks. Very old, abandoned farm houses and sheds stand on both sides of a road so narrow, the truck’s mirrors must be pulled in to pass through some of the gates. At the end of the road in a small valley Tomeu stopped the truck and we begin to hike.

The perception of Balearian Boc  hunting is in short; “petting zoo” with jokes like “the world record is 11 minutes.” As with many species it can be, if that’s what you want. But our excellent host Tomeu Blanquer showed us how the locals do it. Tomeu is a world-class hunter with a large piece of mountainous property. Following his plan, we laced up our boots, left the truck behind and hiked the stony, rosemary-covered hill to Tomeu’s favorite area.

Wearing worn out and loose borrowed boots due to the lost luggage meant many extra dance steps for me on the way up the foggy goat hill. I’ve been up many a goat mountain and this was a goat hill, a solid climb but far from arduous. We topped out on the mountain and the fog surrounded us. Deeper and deeper into the fog we climbed until the visibility dropped to under 75 yards at times. Maillorca de Palma is an island with mountains ascending sharply to as much as 5000 feet above sea level, so it’s expected that weather would hang up on these spires protruding from the sea.

It's not really lonely at the top.

It was clear that Tomeu held little hope for us due to the fog. Spaniards overall strike me as a pessimistic people. I tried to bolster his enthusiasm with some good ol’ ‘merican optimism. “Craig and I are lucky, really lucky. Don’t worry, we make miracles.” We sat. We hoped. The wind blew and the sun melted fog like the defroster on the windshield of Baal’s pickup truck. I followed the whine of a kid. We found boks and Craig shot his goat at about 4300 feet. We started down the mountain.

This is where my day is no longer another day at the office. We popped over and down a short crumbling rocky crest. Granpappy Balearian Boc, ancient and long-horned, looked up at us. We stood in a clear circle with clouds moving around and below. Tomeu asked if I’d like to take him. “Thud” went my camera as I robbed Craig of his Blaser R93. I laid my borrowed pink backpack on a rock, worked a round into the chamber and settled in to watch the old-timer through the Zeiss Victory 3 to 12. His hair was long, his front left leg was broken and his ribs protruded. These are details Tomeu’s expert eyes certainly gathered before he green lighted me.

This area experienced little pressure and the old-timer stood calmly. The nearly 200 yard shot brought him down instantly where he stood.

We approached to see his long horns weren’t yet broomed but were worn. Tomeu estimated his age to be 12 or 13. The coming harsh summer certainly would have been his last. The genuine joy of Tomeu, Gaspar and Craig at my luck made me grateful again that I work with the folks I do.

My job is one of intense highs and lows. There is exhaustion and frustration. And there are days like this where I win the lottery without buying a ticket. Of all the great trophies I’ve taken as a hunting cameraman, there is not one I thought of taking when I crawled out of bed the day I shot it. They were all gifts, one hunter to another, just like this.

If you’re curious about hunting the Balearian Boc you can check it out here: www.bocdesteix.com or email my new best friend Tomeu Blanquer at BBLANQUER@GMAIL.COM

I snapped some snapshots of the hunt. As the saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I’m limited to a thousand words per blog and I’m at 938 right now. So, I’m going to cheat, and squeeze in 12,000 more:

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