This is an old Resistol "Black Diamond" [I think they were 20X] I've had since the 'eighties and still wear year round huntin' and fishin'.I had a stampede string installed since I wear it in an open jeep and in my boat.
It has served as a rifle rest on some longish shots from Mt. to the Rio Grande hunting M.D.
I've got a couple of good custom hats made by Rand and Huskey,a white 30X resistol for funerals and weddings ,an old 20 X Resistol silverbelly that's better than a 50X nowadays that I wear for everyday.
The trick is, pretend its water and drink it like you were thirsty, that way by the time your body reacts it'll be too late. Try and sip it and you're lost.
High comedy for those of us who had actually been IN Ghana In mean, those menacing soldiers at road blocks were actually saying polite and ordinary greetings in Twi.
Anyhow, I do have some video footage of the Peace Corps selection process and of me going to Ghana, back when I used to keep handguns in the fridge and squish roaches by hand. Enjoy
My mum kept all my letters. Unfortunately the one where the soldiers came to our school and commadeered all the kids to haul sacks of cocoa got lost. Long story short; I went too (of course), all in all the most heavily armed crew I've ever sat around and got drunk with.
However, one where I went on an offshore fishing trip is still around. Here it is, as written in Ghana, 31 years ago
This just ONE YEAR after the "Dogs of War" came out, filmed in that very same area of the coast Well, hey, if I get to be even more studly by association, I'm down wit' that....
Bompata Secondary School Box 10 Bompata A/A Ghana, West Africa July 23rd 1981
A volunteer who is leaving gave me some American stamps so I can leave mail off at the Peace Corps office in Accra to be pouched over and mailed in the �States. I especially wanted to send a letter this way because I haven�t written in a month and this will probably be quicker....
...Back in June I went to a three-day Volunteer�s conference at Dixcove. Dixcove is a fishing village on the coast of Ghana just west of Takoradi. I was able to make it down from my site in one day. Dixcove is the nearest thing to a quaint fishing village that I�ve seen in Ghana. Its a small town with narrow, paved streets set right up against a quaint little cove or bay.
In Dixcove we stayed at the castle. The castle is a 300 year old Royal Africa Trading Company trader�s fort set up on a hill overlooking the town. It�s a middle sized small fort made of stone complete with cannons and battlements. We could stay there for 5 cedis a night which over here is a pittance. The walls of my room were about five feet thick, it was like staying at Fort Ticonderoga. From the battlements was a great view of the sea and the golden beach fringed with palm trees stretching off into the distance.
I stayed four nights. The conference was supposed to be so that Peace Corps Volunteers could exchange information and ideas. It was a rousing success, only four people showed up. Of the three Volunteers who had organized it, one got a hernia and another had come down with giardia (dysentery). Another Volunteer who would have come was flown back with to the States with hepatitis, meningitis, and malaria all at once.
As it turned out there was just enough of us to fill a table down at the bar while we got drunk. Dixcove is an active fishing village and we could buy spiny lobsters really cheap. On the third day I was there I was wandering around town occasionally joking with the locals in Twi. Actually they spoke Fanti, but Fanti and Twi are close enough to be mutually intelligible. They really like it when an Obruni speaks Twi and some fishermen invited me to come out with them.
Their boats are long wooden canoes about 30+ feet long and six feet wide, they are carved from a single tree trunk and are much more graceful and functional looking than the term dugout canoe would suggest. They are round-bottomed with squared-off gunwales. The sides are carved and colorfully painted. The canoe I was in had a 40 horsepower Yamaha outboard set on a wooden transom out to one side at the back and another 25 horsepower Evinrude kept on board as a reserve.
The seats were a series of wide planks across the top. In front was a small t-shaped mast about six feet high . Up in front were two small wrapped bundles hanging from a nail, probably some kind of spiritual insurance. Half of the canoe was taken up with a great pile of netting.
The fishermen themselves are brawny characters all built like football linebackers. The canoes were pulled up about fifteen feet from the water in a long row. To put them in, two planks were laid parallel from the canoe to the water. Then everyone lifted one end of the canoe and wedged a pipe underneath as a roller. The boats were immensely heavy and putting them in was a community effort.
To lift one end the fishermen would brace their backs against the side. Someone would say �Ibo� and everyone conversationally replied �Ibo� and then heaved in unison. It was all very casual and not a regimented �heave ho� effort. After each heave the canoe would be another few inches down the beach. The suddenly the pipe reached a fulcrum point and the canoe rolled most of the way. From there, by coordinating their efforts with the waves the canoe was soon afloat.
After it was floating they loaded it up with two big drums of petrol and a big jerry can of fresh water plus a plastic bag containing our blankets. No life jackets. Around town the fishermen dress well in blue jeans and t-shirts on the boats they wear tattered rags.
There were six besides myself in the canoe, ranging in age from the boss in his mid-thirties down to a boy of about twelve. Most boats only had three or four crew. After we were al loaded up we paddled a little ways out into the cove before starting the outboard. The paddles were painted and carved from a single piece of wood and had trident-shaped blades.
We left around noon and for the next six hours we just motored south away from the coast. I would say we went about 25 miles offshore. I was sitting way up in the front, the were all sitting in the back except for the boss who was standing on the rearmost seat with his hip wedged against a long steering oar that was lashed to the stern. Next to him sat the guy who operated the outboard.
The seas here are deep blue in color with shafts of green light when you look down into the water. The sun was behind a high thin haze of cloud but I still got pretty red. There was a light breeze and the sea was in long rolling swells about ten feet high.
We were going into the waves so that as we went along we would climb a long slope of water. For a brief moment at the crest we would get a good view of the surrounding but then we would pitch down the far side, sometimes with a bone-jarring impact that buried me in spray. It would have been pretty easy to get thrown out.
There were a lot of canoes who left at about the same time we did but they made no attempt to stick together and as the afternoon went by we just gradually dispersed.
Occasionally as we motored along a flying fish would suddenly erupt out of the water in front and glide stiffly off between the waves. There weren�t many birds, just an occasional term or petrel. The seas here is actually pretty barren, there are no barnacles or seaweed along the shoreline and no seagulls either (Dixcove has vultures instead of seagulls).
Going out, they trailed a fishing line and we caught a couple of 18 inch tuna. Live tuna have a silvery, mirror finish like polished steel and they are perfectly streamlined to the point that they resemble some kind of undersea missile as much as they do a fish. After it was caught it vibrated around the bottom of the canoe with frantic energy like a wind-up toy, but out of water it quite suddenly died.
We also caught a dolphin fish about the same size, a beautiful green and yellow thing that vibrated around the boat like the tuna for a few moments before suddenly dying
Around sunset they cut the engine and brought out the paddles. Two of them stood up and started to play out the net and the rest kept the canoe broadside to the breeze. At this pint I was pretty helpless, all day we had been pitching and heaving and now we were bobbing and weaving, I could hardly tell which way was up. Those guys were just walking casually up and down on the benches while I could only crawl and grope my way around.
The net was at least 400 yards long. Every 100 yards or so they attached a float with a lit kerosene lantern. As we drifted downwind the net formed a long straight line pointing upwind. The net itself was made of cotton twine with about a four-inch mesh. It hung down form the surface about 10 or 15 feet. The way it works is whatever swims into it gets tangled up in the netting, the small stuff swims through.
It was well after dark by the time they got finished playing out the net. Then they fired up a charcoal brazier and cooked the tuna. At this point I threw up over the side so I didn�t eat. Shortly afterwards they gave me a space in the very stern of the canoe with my feet wedged against a fuel drum to keep me from slipping down. They slept on the benches.
It might have been relaxing except that everything was wet and there was just enough of a breeze to make you feel cold. Also, as the canoe rocked and tipped, the stars appeared to veer drunkenly all over the clear, dark sky. I didn�t sleep very much.
At least there were no mosquitoes. Twice in the night the boy got up to bail out the canoe as there were some cracks in the grain which let in water. Off by the horizon were the lights of another canoe and once a freighter passed by all lit up.
One thing that was beautiful though, the stars of the Southern Cross, just visible above the horizon.
At first light they began to haul in the net. It was cloudy so I didn�t see the sun rise. At first things looked pretty grim, for the first 200 yards all we got were about 8 2ft tuna, some of which were partly eaten. We also got a couple of small squid with a body about as long as my forearm. The squid were the only things alive in the net.
After this initial disappointment things began to pick up. They pilled in a 3ft shark and then a little later they pulled in one about 10 ft long. They were both grey and white with black tipped fins and cat�s eyes. Both sharks appeared to be dead, but they beat both of them vigorously with the paddles to be sure.
Towards the end they hauled din a bunch of 2ft tuna (by �tuna� I mean any one of a number of similar species) and a dead dolphin about ten feet long also. Shortly after they hauled this in we saw a small group of dolphin about 50 yards off, perhaps hanging around their friend.
All of the larger kills were laboriously untangled from the net and allowed to flop heavily down between the benches, the tuna either fell or were shaken out. It was well after sunup when we started back. On the way back they fired up the charcoal grill and I gorged on fresh roast tuna steaks, it was really fine.
The clouds dissipated and the sun shone down with full force. The open tropical sea is a hostile place. What with the reflection from the water it was like sitting in a microwave. I ended up sitting hunched under a blanket and felt like I got burned right thought it. The crew just lolled around comfortably in the sun.
Going back was a lot smoother than as we ran with the swells. On the way we passed another fishing canoe like ours with three unhappy-looking men standing in it. Probably their motor had broken. The people in our canoe pointedly ignored them and motored right on by, I didn�t ask why.
It was afternoon before the coast appeared on the northern horizon and we got back to port around two. Hauling the canoes up the beach was pretty much a reversal of putting them in the water except a long nylon rope was tied to the prow. We did about as well as anyone. I saw a swordfish and there were hammerhead sharks on the beach.
Women and kids started in first thing chopping up the sharks and dividing up the fish. They gave me a good-sized tuna and I gave one of the fishermen my good denim shirt. I gave the tuna to the lady at the castle to cook.
The fishermen make out fairly well compared to most Ghanaians with traditional occupations. The men at least live well and dress well when not working and among them an air of machismo and professional pride prevails. The Protein deficiency which plagues much of Ghana is probably non-existent at Dixcove.
On the other side of the coin they make three trips a week which means six days and they also spend long hours stringing out and repairing the nets which probably occupies much of the seventh day.
The following day I went back to too Accra to spend the night and returned to Bomapata....
Birdwatcher
"...if the gentlemen of Virginia shall send us a dozen of their sons, we would take great care in their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them." Canasatego 1744
OTOH, this must be one of them upscale, snooty Akpeteshie bars.
,"Shweh!".... sure is a joy to hear so much spoken Twi again, makes me laugh just to hear it recalling all the jokes and funny stories exchanged... over alchohol for the most part....
Observe the correct technique; and note how the guy pours a little out on the ground first as libations to his ancestors. Anyhoo... I'm thinking you would fit right in...
Birdwatcher
"...if the gentlemen of Virginia shall send us a dozen of their sons, we would take great care in their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them." Canasatego 1744
Here's one I made using a white blank exactly like yours.
Thats one fine hat
Is that hand-stitching I see on that item of clothing underneath it?
Birdwatcher
"...if the gentlemen of Virginia shall send us a dozen of their sons, we would take great care in their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them." Canasatego 1744
The X's represent whatever the hatmaker wnats them to represent. There is no standard.
I have bought a custom 100% beaver fur felt from http://www.buckaroohatters.com/ His speciality is cowboy hats. He also has a Facebook page with lots of photographs.
The X factor is mostly marketing hype. There is no standard on what the x's represent.
There is a felter in Winchester TN that makes most of the custom hatter's felt bodies. I went up there a week or 2 ago just to observe the process. At the time they had beaver, white rabbit, brown rabbit and nutria fur. They make differet mixes of those furs depending on what the customer wants. Nutria is a little rougher than beaver but not as rough as rabbit. It makes a darn good hat.
By the way, will be leaving for Ghana Thursday. Will say, "hi", to all your old friends.
I'm jealous! Oughta be the about the peak of the rainy season IIRC, never mind showers, just go stand outside in the evening
And here's hoping you don't meet Giardia, my formerly close companion
Speaking of giardia, you MUST take the time to eat at a real chop bar by the side of the road (hey, 3 billion flies cant be wrong ). I highly recommend fufu, groundnut[/size][size:8pt] soup and dried tuna; a meal sent by Onyame hisself straight from heaven
Only thing possibly even close to better is banku, groundnut soup, and dried tuna.
NEVER use your left hand to eat, and remember, real men drink the soup after all the fufu/banku is gone (hey, long as you dont also drink the water afterwards you'll be fine).
Speaking of drinking, you MUST also go to a roadside akpeteshie bar (after all, your driver will prob'ly be driking there too). All liquor is poison, akpeteshie (tranlates to "kill me quick") makes no bones about the fact.
The trick is, pretend its water and drink it like you were thirsty, that way by the time your body reacts it'll be too late. Try and sip it and you're lost. Dont worry either that some guy coughing his lungs out just used that same glass, the akpeteshie will take care of that.
For the REAL akpeteshie experience, ya gotta wake up in the dust of a village street with goats and chickens looking down at you curiously as they pass. But I doubt you'll have the time to delve that deep into the local culture [/size][size:23pt]
And speaking of drivers, and akpeteshie, NEVER ride in the front if you aint driving. Stay any legnth of time and you'll see the remains of another head-on collision aboout every time you take the main highway.
Take photos, in a perfect world posted on a thread here.
And dont forget the paregoric
Safe Journey,
Birdwatcher
Birdie, sounds exciting if you are twenty-three; at sixty-three, ah, not so much.. Pic's I will do..
Observe the correct technique; and note how the guy pours a little out on the ground first as libations to his ancestors. Anyhoo... I'm thinking you would fit right in...
Birdwatcher
Intentionally pouring booze on the ground? We call that alcohol abuse here. No sir, THAT does not compute!
Great stuff about your Dark Continent days, Mike. Some day I'll tell you a story about my brother and I wandering off from the Hilton and winding up in a Nairobi slum. The story ends with my brother and I being chased through alleys and shanty-structures. All I can say is, not all Kenyans are world class runners... Good times.
This crushable wool felt fedora has seen a lot of hunting, fishing, canoeing, hiking, and general outdoor use than any other hat I own. Dunno who made it. It's not my first choice for the hot Tejas summer, but it packs easy on an airplane and clamps down nicely on my noggin. Never has blown off in 20+ years.
"I'm gonna have to science the schit out of this." Mark Watney, Sol 59, Mars
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Here's one I made using a white blank exactly like yours.
In mean, those menacing soldiers at road blocks were actually saying polite and ordinary greetings in Twi.
![[Linked Image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Sharpshin/frontierfolk/hat.jpg)
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