The Boar Hunt

Around 5:30AM i stumbled out of bed, grabbed a cup of java, and jumped on the scooter headed for the highest village on the island. Cloaked in full rain gear, i gently navigated through the heavy rain and potholes, as this is the day of the boar hunt. Many thoughts passed through my head during my hour long drive to the west. The only thing i was told, was to pack light and bring cleats. By 6:30am, the local dentist was waiting by the side of the road, and i followed his lead up the mountainside. His garage was lined with the skulls of fallen boar, some of the tusks measured 1-2 feet

I briefly met the crew, five local guys & four hunting dogs. We packed all of the gear: 2 shotguns, machetes, bucket of bbq chicken, rice, outboard motor, and some gas. We drove through the rain towards the westernmost village (end of the road). We unloaded and huddled in a rudimentary shack, grilled some chicken, and waited out the storm. Here in samoa, sometimes that means never, so we loaded up the small 16 foot aluminum boat and paddled out through the reef. Soon we were cruising past cascading waterfalls and sheltered coves and entering the fairytale landscapes of the northern coast. The cove we finally entered looked a bit rocky, but i figured these guys knew what they were doing. Unexpectedly, a huge wave threw us onto the rocks nearly flipping the vessel, after which they remarked with a stoic face "first crash landing ever." Phrases like this are all to common on the island of tutuila.

We organized the gear, and let loose the hounds up the steeply forested valley. I soon realized the importance of the cleats, as the mud made tracking nearly impossible. The rainforest was beautiful on the inside, a cacophony of birds and exotic plants. Many of the banyan trees must have been 200-300 years old, extending ancient, giant roots above ground much like an octopus does underwater. I learned many things during my journey through time & space- how to smell the boar, the difficulty of hearing barking dogs in a rainforest during a downpour, and about the fao tree, which is used for rope and in making the traditional fale dwelling. Although the tracks of the pigs and signs of their path of destruction were all around, they remained elusive. After several hours of ravine crossing, river wading, and mountain climbing, the scent of the boars was lost, and the hunting party returned to base camp.

All was not lost, as one of the group emerged from the forest carrying a 5 lb. coconut crab (larger than a lobster). This crustacean, collects coconut cream in its abdomen, which is considered a local delicacy. Another member of the party emerged from the sea, with a traditional spear filled with octopus and various reef fish. Before long the sense of loss from not returning with a boar was replaced by the gathering of various local fruits de mer. A beach fire was started, stories were told of past adventures and future plans to catch the elusive boar, and the bounty was grilled to perfection.

Banana leaves were laid out and the food was literally thrown to each member sitting around the smorgasboard. After lazying about under the spell of such a magnificent feast, we re-boarded the boat and traveled back to the village launch. Half the party was asleep as we returned to the mountainside village of our departure. The group slowly dispersed and went its separate ways, vowing to reclaim glory next time, and bring home the king of the samoan forests, the boar.