Ibex (part I)

While one of our Central Asian companies was hosting a delegation of government ministers from Kyrgyzstan in the USA, my wife prepared a meal for them in our home. The delegation asked for a tour of our home, and one of them asked me about my guns that were visible through a glass on the door of the gun case. He told me that on my next trip to Kyrgyzstan that he would arrange a hunting expedition for me.

 Several months later I was preparing to take a small team to Kyrgyzstan to lead conferences. Our hosts had asked me to pack some hiking boots and a heavy coat. I was going on a hunting trip, but I did not know what I would be hunting. I was just asked to allow four days after the official visit to go on an expedition.

 After finishing our conferences and visits with government officials, I said farewell to my colleagues as they departed for the airport. By this time our hosts had informed me that even though their hunting season was not open, they had arranged for a hunting party to accompany me on a hunt for the Central Asian ibex. 

 The ibex is distinguished by the male's large recurved horns, which are transversely ridged in front. The huge horns arch towards the center of the ibex’s back. A member of the goat family, Central Asian ibex are a majestic species who are in general, the most difficult sub-species to hunt due to the high altitudes and steep mountainsides they inhabit.

 My host’s chauffeur drove Alex, my interpreter, and me deep into the mountains where we rendezvoused with our two guides, an Afghan and a Kyrgyz.

 My first thought when we greeted our guides was not about them, but the small size of the horses that would be our mounts for this treacherous expedition. I asked about their small statured horses, and they assured me that they are very tough and experienced for travel in some of the most rugged mountains found any place in the world.

 Within a few minutes of beginning our trek, I was having trouble with my horse. I had grown up owning and riding horses, so I was no new-by to horseback riding. My horse was just mean and stubborn and was not responding to the bit in his mouth. I complained about the horse to the guides, but they basically did not reply. After wrestling with this creature the first half day, I told the Afghan guide that he should ride my horse for a while and maybe he could straightened him out. He dismounted and said something in Russian under his breath. Alex laughed  and told me that he said something that was very close to our expression “he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.” 

 The Afghan guide carried the rifle that I would use on the hunt over his shoulder. He mounted the angry horse and immediately struck the horse’s rear end with a leather crop. The horse responded by bucking him onto the ground! 

 I could not help it. I laughed out loud. As he struggled to his feet, he examined the rifle, and I wondered how the delicate scope could have maintained its setup with the nasty fall. I mentioned that but the Kyrgyz guide said that we were too far into the mountains to resight the scope. Shots fired might frighten away any ibex that might be lurking up ahead of us.

 After the Kyrgyz guide discovered that the saddle girth was pinching the horse’s belly and he made adjustments, we proceeded without another horse incident. By late afternoon we reached our lodging for the night. Some sheep herders had erected a yurt which is basically a round tent made from animal skins. 

We had covered a lot of ground that first day, and we had climbed up into the Tien Chan Mountains to about 10,000 feet. The air became very thin and made it more difficult to breathe. The sun was setting and the colder evening air made me gasp for air as I felt like I was not getting enough air in my lungs.

  Alex informed me that our shepherd hosts were cooking a meal for us, but in the meantime, they had prepared their traditional national drink for us. Having traveled in Central Asia for three years I had heard many tales about “kumis,” which is made from fermented mare’s milk. Oh, joy! How was I going to be able to politely refuse to drink it. All I needed was an upset stomach while riding a horse on mountainsides covered in small rocks that cascaded down the steep slopes as the horse’s hooves plodded through the rocks.

 One of the shepherds was smiling as he came to me with a small container of the kumis. I did not have the heart to refuse their generosity. Long before that day, I had learned how to fake drinking “welcome water” in Burkina Faso. So, I put the cup to my mouth, and I acted like I was swallowing it. That deception is accomplished by swallowing hard enough to make your throat move the skin on your neck. Then I wiped the kumis mustache from my mouth with the back of my hand. Success! The other shepherd host showed steel-clad front teeth as he smiled. After that first “drink” I was able to politely refuse more—to the delight of our two guides who savored the kumis like I would a chocolate malt with extra malt. 

(Ibex Part II—to be continued)