Ten hours packing, a thousand dollars in expense, and two long days at a contest site that never sleeps.

Literally.

What were we getting into?

It was the Clovis Red Hot & Real State Barbecue Championship.

You can't forget anything.  It's not just bringing smokers and wood; it's utensils, cookware and kitchenware, every spice and condiment you will need.  You need three wash basins: wash, rinse, and sanitizer.  Bleach!  Don't forget the bleach.  You'll need it for your cookware sanitizing solution as required by health codes.

The Fire Department is also a force to be reckoned with.  Required is a working fire extinguisher with a purchase receipt less than one year old or an FD-approved inspection tag.

As anyone who has moved knows, packing always takes three or four times longer than expected.  Six smokers and 200 pounds of charcoal later, the back of our 17-foot U-Haul looked like this:

All that?  Just to compete in a barbecue contest?

It's a BIG job.  But the fun and the camaraderie is worth it all.

We pulled into the contest site around noon on Friday, the day before the judging, and were directed to our assigned spot.  You need a good four-hour time cushion to set up shop, after which to have a little time to finally relax, unwind, stroll around the site, and begin to socialize.

As you can see, there's a little more to this than shlepping along your Weber kettle and a bag of Kingsford.  There's six -- count 'em -- six smokers and a dozen bags of charcoal and smoking wood.

Ain't that a site?

And we're a small outfit.  There are teams who literally drive their rigs to the contest.  Look at the top left area of the picture below.

The first rite of passage, your first certification of legitimacy, is the meat inspection.  A contest official visits each team's site and inspects the meat, ensuring that each team is using the proper cuts, ensuring that it is stored at a proper and safe temperature, and that nobody is using pre-marinated meat.

It's all to ensure fairness, that each team is starting from scratch and not entering with an unfair advantage.  With a gracious nod, the officials gave us to go-ahead.

Evening came, the sun went down, but the serious business was just beginning.

When the site's electricity suppliers had finally overcome their technical difficulties, the work lights and lanterns came on and each team began preparing their first meats.

After the necessary trimming was done and our secret rubs applied, the meats went back into the ice chests and we relaxes and socialized a little more.

But even as the night grew old, and 10pm came and went, the site wasn't laying itself down to sleep.  It was just getting started.

At approximately 1:00 am, my first meat, pork shoulder, hit the grill.  Turn-in time for the pork shoulder entries was 1:00 pm, and pork shoulder takes a long time to smoke.  Twelve hours in this case.

At 3:00 am, brisket was next.  As you can see, at hours when most people are asleep, a barbecue contest site is a very active place.

We catnapped what little we could, but by 5:00 am, the pork ribs had to go on.  With turn-in at 12:30 pm, that allowed seven hours of smoking.

I watched my temperatures, monitoring the smoker temperatures and the internal temperatures of the meat.  Everything was going perfectly -- temps exactly where they should be, and cooking times tuned to perfection.

And then trouble.  It was time to start up a chimney-full to start my chicken, and my wood wouldn't light.

It just wouldn't burn!  It was as if some joker has secretly switched in a bad of lava rock disguised to look like wood.  Another wad of newspaper stuffed under the chimney starter burns to ashes, and nothing.  Still no ignition.

We were in a windy location to begin with, and I couldn't get a fire going to save my life.  Cooking temperatures began to drop.  Meat began falling behind schedule.

We tried to play catch-up the best we could, but we couldn't produce anywhere near the product that we were used to smoking up at home.

Ever still, the excitement was not lost.  As the turn-in time for the first meat, chicken,drew near at noon, we began to feel real pressure for the first time.  You are allowed a five-minute window before and after the scheduled turn-in time to submit your entry.

One minute late, and your entry is disqualified.  These rules are strictly enforced, as my neighbor team found out when they turned in their pork ribs a little bit too late.

From that point on, each turn-in time is a half hour apart, and you feel the intensity.  You barely have time to choose the best piece of meat, ensure that it is done, slice it, dress your presentation tray with garnish, and put on the finishing appearance touches before turn-in time arrives.

When all was said and done, we finished 31st place out of 42.  We aren't among the winners pictured above.  Considering the unexpected fire-lighting troubles that knocked our timing way off, I was satisfied with the results.

But never have I been so tired in my life.  Driving home, the last 20 miles were spent in a freak time warp -- it seemed to take four whole hours to travel those last 20 miles.  I never knew until then what sleep deprivation can do to a guy's perception of time.

But once you do a contest -- and survive -- competition becomes part of your blood.

We're entered in another contest less than two weeks from today.  Watch this blog for further information.