Blix

An enjoyable and great read

Baron Bror Fredrik von Blixen-Finecke (25 July 1886 – 4 March 1946) is probably best remembered as being the unfaithful but likable husband of writer Karen Blixen in the movie "Out of Africa", but during his twenty-four years living in Africa he became highly respected professional hunter, or at it was known at those politically incorrect times, White Hunter.

Bror von Blixen was known to his friends simply as Blix, and we could say that he had a restless soul that demanded constant change and action and hated stability and repetition. Therefore, what better profession to suit a wanderer than a big game hunter, leading distinguished clients, such as Edward, Prince of Wales, after wandering and exotic dangerous animals through the heart of an Africa that was still savage.

But the same need to wander would eventually take Blix from Kenya to Cuba to go deep sea fishing in a boat name Pillar with a certain Ernest Hemingway, who he describes as "a gigantic fellow weighting, I am sure" over a hundred and ninety pounds with shoulders like a wrestler and a chest like Hercules."

In return Hemingway said that "The Baron was not a man that you forget", and to make sure about that he used Blixen as the inspiration for professional hunter Robert Wilson in the unparalleled short-story "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." It is important to mention that although Mr. Wilson is inspired in Bror von Blixen, the story's love triangle and its outcome is really based on events of the life of John Henry Patterson, writer and slayer of "The Man-eaters of Tsavo," but that is another story.

During some of his elephant hunting years Blix had a close association with another fantastic and larger than life Africana figure, Beryl Markham, writer of "West with the Night" and the first person to fly across the Atlantic from East to West. Anyhow, Miss Markham used her light Gipsy Moss airplane to scout for elephant, which Blix and his clients would them pursuit on foot.

About those times Miss Markham would later say "Six feet of amiable Swede and, to my knowledge, the toughest, most durable White Hunter ever to snicker at the fanfare of safari or to shoot a charging buffalo between the eyes while debating whether his sundown drink will be gin or whisky.”

Blix left Africa, never to return, in 1938 following the accidental death of his third wife, Swedish adventuress Eva Dickson, moving first to the United States of America and then back to Sweden where he took a field hospital during World War II.

His book "African Hunter" was also translated to English in year of his exodus, and it is an insightful and entertaining book, that any professional small boy will devour, be it in the confines or a jet plane during a business trip, or by the dim light of a dying flashlight under the canopy formed by a light blanket out over the head, so your parents cannot see that you are way past your sleeping hour.

I believe that some the best compliment to Blix came from his first wife, Karen, who is reported to having said shortly before her death that "If I could wish anything back of my life, it would be to go on safari once again with Bror..."

A True Masterpiece

First group from my new Smith & Wesson K-22

Some weeks ago my wife was gracious enough to allow me to acquire a new piece that will enhance my humble collection and also provide me with long periods of relaxation at my indoor range.

As you will immediatelly tell from the picture above the new old Smith & Wesson K-22, or more precisely a Model 17-3 made around 1971 according to the serial number, is in pristine shape, and the first (and so far only) off-hand five-shot group at 10 meters demonstrates that purebred target precision is clearly alive and well.

The roots of the K-22 can be traced back to 1899 when Smith & Wesson introduced what would become the gold standard to which all revolvers are compared, the .38 Hand Ejector Military & Police Model revolver, built in the then new K-frame. By 1913 the adjustable sight configuration, the .38 Hand Ejector Military & Police Target model (eventually called K-38) held 24 of 40 all-time records of the U.S. Revolver Association.

But the .38 Military & Police was not only popular with target shooter, it also became the virtual standard police handgun, not only in the United States of America, but either as original Smith & Wesson or unauthorized copies in countries that issued wheel-guns to its police forces.

And due to the massive popularity and constant use of the .38 Military & Polcie, both target shooter and police department started claiming for a revolver with same handling carachteristics od the K-38, but that would shoot the much lower cost .22 rimfire ammunition (and by this time the .22 Long Rifle had already become the de-facto standard).

In order to provide the same handling, the new .22 revolver had the same loaded weight as the K-38, and to allow for the same handling the center of gravity had to be the same, and threfore the .22 barrel is slightly taped towards the muzzle. And in keeping with its competition roots, Smith & Wesson guaranteed that the new K-22 would group five shots under 1 1/2 inches at 50 yards.

From 1931 to 1939 this fantastic .22 revolver was called the K-22 Outsdoorman, and from that point, after incorporating a new micrometer-adjustable rear sight it became the Smith & Wesson Masterpiece, and I cannot think of a better name to christen the best .22 revolver ever made.

In 1957 Smith & Wesson introduced model numbers to replace the model names, and the K-38 became the Model 14, while the K-22 became the Model 17. Why they did not became the Models 38 and 22 I will never understand!

In order to really pair my new K-22 and my old K-38 I need to find some original grips to replace the aftermarket combat grips of the latter, but that is neither hard nor expensive, and in a short time I should have a perfect pair of target revolvers.

Another Week in Europe

Schinken-Schweinehaxe "Zum Schiffchen"

It is hard to believe that is has been almost one year since my last visit to Europe, but I can be only so many places (generally one) at a time. In nine days business took me to the Netherlands, Germany, Turkey, Sweden, and then back to Germany and the Netherlands.

But even in the, at times, challenging schedule of a business trip, I try, as much as possible, to find some connection to nature, hunting, fishing and the outdoors. And that started in my dinner at Vitali's in Gelsenkirchen where I had wildschwein or wild boar for dinner pared with a good, and reasonably inexpensive, bootle of Primitivo red wine.

A couple days later in Izmir, I was reminded that Turkey is one of the best countries in the world to eat fish, which is multiple ways is the center of the local delicious and healthy "Mediterranean Diet". As I don't speak Turkish it is almost impossible for me to remember the name of the different fishes we had, but is easy to remember that the meals were pared with healthy amounts of Yene Raki, and I drink it in the proper way: pour the Raki to about a third of a tall narrow glass, add water almost to the top, and then ice. The other of the factors is all important.

The time in Sweden was way too short to even try a proper meal, but I had a very flavorfull sandwich at the Arlanda International Airport. Anyhow, as we were speeding down the highway to Södertälje I noticed a tree stand overlooking an automatic deer feeder, and a short time after that I saw three or four deer in a field. Probably the Swedish hunter will be shooting a 6,5x55 mm rifle instead of a .270 Winchester or a .30-06, but that could almost be a post card from Michigan.

Back to Germany, and we landed in the beautiful and reliable Düsseldorf International Airport, where I was to spend my weekend. On Friday night I was just too tired even to go out to dinner, so I had a protein bar and crashed, but Saturday was a different story!

The weather could not have been any better. Bright blue sky and temperature reaching up to 20C/68F, made the Altstadt an irresistible attraction for people. My first stop was at one of the local cutlery shops, then I went to pay my respects to the fast flowing Rhine, the vibrant economic arthery that connects the industrial heart of Germany to the Atlantic. A relative short walk away was the Church of Saint Lambertus and its magnificient art work. Around noon I could not resist any longer and had a couple of the excellent and fresh local Altbier at Uerige Hausbrauerei.

Lunch was nothing more than a large bratwurst held by a small crisp bread bought at a farmer's market right in front of my hotel, and I ate it on the go while I walked to the high end Königsalle to visit Frankonia, which I could describe as Germany's Cabelas. Hunting is really an elitist sport in Europe, and the prices reflect that. I engaged in small talk with the gun counter salesperson and he sort of pissed me off a bit by mentioning the German hunting tradition as something far superior to the way we hunt in the United Stated, especially considering that we wear camouflage! I know several other European hunters and I know that they do not share the same opinion.

Coming back to the Altstad I found the crowd almost unbearable and longed for my much quieter Old Mission Peninsula. The only thing I could do to save my sanity was to go back to the hotel and sleep for a couple hours, and when I woke up it was much quieter and I walked the two blocks to Brauerei zum Schiffchen which has been serving locals and visitors, including a certain Napoléon Bonaparte since 1628. It is pretty clear that they have learned with time, and the schweinehaxe mit sauerkraut und bratkartoffeln (porc nuckles with cabbage and home fries) was a fantastic ending to a long day.

Work of Love, Work of Art

Paulo points a work of art

Last week I had the pleasure and honor to be invited by my friend Paulo Mattana to spend the weekend at this ranch in the municipality of São Francisco de Paula, state of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil.

Paulo and his "cousin" Beto picked me up at my hotel on Friday afternoon and we started our trip taking the least traveled path, from Caxias do Sul to Ana Rech where we bought some fantastic home made bread among other treaties, then to Fazenda Souza and Vila Oliva, and after that by a mountainous unpaved road (that in the US could be described as a track) to steel bridge crossing a deep gorge or canyon over Rio dos Sinos over a ancienty Krupp steel bridge. After the bridge it was uphill again until we came to the touristic city of Canela, took the road to São Francisco de Paula, but left it well before town to cross the Salto dam on the Caí river to get to Paulo's ranch.

Along the way besides the beautiful sights we had good music and better conversation.

As we arrived late in the afternoon (my fault, I know it), there was little to be done besides greeting the ranch hand and his family, unload the supplies from the car, open a cold beer, not getting in the way of Beto while he prepared a "Caipira" (the typical Brazilian cocktail made of cachaça, sugar, limes and ice), which in typical Gaúcho fashion is shared by everyone, get out of Paulo's way while he served the cheese and egg-plant Caponnata, get some music on the i-Pad and talk about guns, hunting, ranching and other less pleasant subjects as politics. As you can see, really nothing to be done. Dinner was tomato and arugua salad, rice and Kung Pao chicken along a couple bottles of great red wine.

Of course, after so little to do the previous night Beto and I over slept, and by the time we woke up Paulo had breakfast well underway.

After breakfast Paulo released his German shorthaired pointers and we got into his Jeep so he could show me the property. The dogs will either run ahead or follow the Jeep and as we drove around the pastures they pointed and eventually flushed a perdiz (Nothura maculosa) and a perdigão (Rhynchotus rufescens), and in both cases I pointed an imaginary shotgun at the birds as they disappeared in the luxurious grasslands.

As Paulo drove me along the property he would tell me about his efforts to restore the land from a very degraded form of several years ago when it was void of almost any life to its present form where the soil is protect from erosion and the cattle and sheep live along the local wildlife. A true work of love.

When we arrived back at the ranch house the two boat mechanics that Paulo was waiting for were already at work on his boat, and after they finished their work we were forced to take the boat to water and test its engine. The lake formed by Barragem do Salto is realy beautiful and we took the boat several miles up river and saw several weekend camps along its shores.

As we came back to the boat launch Paulo and I decided to enjoy the misterious dark waters of the lake, and we floated for quite some time, enjoying cold beers and warm conversation.

Arriving back at the ranch house again we had two pleasant surprises: the lamb barbecue (Gaucho style over hot coals, off course) was almost ready and our friend Armando Rezende had just arrived. A good barbecue (my friends from Alabama will remember me that this is grilling) is food to both body and soul, and after feasting on copious amonts of lamb, fresh salads, tender home made bread, and some libations we had to retire, some to bed others to the veranda, and enjoy soft conversation while the first heavy rain pour of the afternoon washed the skies.

During the rain Paulo showed us one of his most prized possessions, a little .410 single shot hammerless shotgun that his father, Mr. Alfredo Mattana, made in the early 1950's while working at Eberle (Mr. Mattana eventually retired from Eberle after fifty four years of service!) The gun is an exact copy of a Beretta Model 412 single shot hammerless shotgun, and according to Paulo his father made three of them, one for himself and two for close friends.

Paulo shot his first perdiz with this gun, and after his father passed the gun went to one of his brothers, that embellished the gun with great taste. Eventually, after the premature passing of his brother, Paulo received the shotgun from his sister-in-law, and it is truly a work of art.

After the first rain (which was quite mild compared to the storm that came at night and made us think about the campers at the the lake shores) and before the impressive subtropical sunset, Armando and I had the pleasure and honor (I know that I good author should not repeat himself, but I am not a good author) to shoot Paulo's shotgun at some aerial targets. But that is another story...