The African Experience – PART ONE - by DJ
As our plane landed in Victoria Falls Zimbabwe, my anticipation of the hunt was quickly over shadowed by the burning desire to get up and out of another airplane. I don’t mind flying but after 22 hours of sitting in these aluminum tubes with all their annoyances, I was thankful to stand up and walk a bit. Walking has never been an issue for me. Slogging through the Alaskan Arctic tundra or forging streams and climbing hills in British Columbia is a welcome pleasure compared to the confinement of flying. Overall I guess it beats the other travel alternatives by a country mile.
As our wheels touched down and we taxied to our designated spot, it was apparent that this semi modern airport seemed rather out of place against the rural African landscape. Simplicity and effectiveness abounded. No frills here, but none were expected. Pay your visa fee, apply the stamp to your passport, claim your luggage, clear your firearms and into the waiting hands of your outfitter.
Now, I’ve been picked by guides in every kind of vehicle imaginable, some were well appointed and ready to hunt and some barely able to keep the rain out due to the severe rust holes and junk yard quality condition. This time, it was a well kept but older British Land Rover. Visions of early 1950’s elephant hunting in Kenya flashed through my mind. This is exactly the kind of start I was hoping for as we moved out of the airport on towards Matetsi Unit #2, which would be our final hunting destination deep in the African bush.
Unit 2 is a complex mixture of grasslands, low rocky basins and rolling rock strewn hills. It’s located in north western Zimbabwe bordering Botswana. Our migration to camp takes us through, high savanna with broad tall grasses, dotted by flat topped tress where nesting birds of many types are often found surveying the dangerous lands below. The roads we follow are nothing more than the worn “two tracks” left behind from vehicles repeatedly passing over the same ground. Oddly enough, my guide reports that there were rains the prior week which has caused the brown dried vegetation so common to African winters to begin to green up as if we were in the first weeks of spring. This isn’t first time I’ve been told that “The weather is normally never like this.” I have a curse you know. Every time I go hunting the weather seems to go awry. Like Argentina in their winter of 2003 when it was 100 degrees by mid day, and I was to bring Wool and gloves, the Arctic in 2007 when I got off the plane for my Caribou hunt at it was 72 degrees and tee shirt weather. Shall I go on? You get the picture. Anyway, as we bumped along we took a detour to see a bit of the sights which included a broad barren strip of land, plowed out of the African wilderness which serves as the no-man’s-land border between Botswana and Zimbabwe. Wide enough for a four lane highway, this raw strip of land is patrolled by the Botswana military to minimize the amount of unauthorized cross border migrations made by the Zimbabwe locals seeking work.
Eventually we arrive at base camp. Composed of rock and thatch sleeping hunts, a skinning shed, guides quarters, dining hut and other supporting structures. As we roll up to the front of the compound in a dusty cloud, several of the staff came out to greet us brining our “new arrival” welcome drink. A custom in this part of the country, the drink is a tasty mixture of fruit juices and a touch of something a bit stronger. Fluted steam ware in the hands of these experienced rugged outdoorsmen added a touch of civilized charm to what was already staking up to be a truly wild African adventure.
Day One
After introductions and pleasantries our sleeping hut assignments were made. With gear stowed, it was time to change into something a bit more designed for hunting as opposed to travel. Since luggage handlers are not known for their delicateness the first order of business is rifle site in. This brief range session actually serves two distinct purposes. One benefits the hunter, the other the PH or Professional Hunter for short. The client gets to see how far out of whack their rifles are shooting and the PH get’s to see how far out of whack the client is when it comes to shooting. Oh I know we all feel we are good shots, but the number 1 issue that ALL of my guides have had with their clients over the years has been with marksmanship. Surprisingly even at rather close range. A pie plate at 50 yards doesn’t seem like much of a target for an experienced hunter. But, the last Safari client exhibited what amounted to be shotgun type patterns with his 375 H&H at just such a distance. Therefore, the best way to impress your guide is to shoot well during your site it. He will determine (based on your display of shooting skill, or lack there-of), how close he will need to get you to your quarry. With site in complete and assessments made, it was off into the bush to get a feel for the environment.
In my opinion shooting your primary animal the first day of your hunting trip can really shorten the overall experience. With this in mind you also have to weigh the possibility that any animal passed may not likely be seen again. Animals migrate in these areas over reasonably long distances including over country borders and between license units. Therefore, you must trust your guide when he tells you, “Let’s hold out for a really good one”. It takes a bit of faith to comply when it’s the biggest and best of the species you’ve ever personally seen.
Stopping the safari vehicle just before a well worn game trail we watched as one by one a large group of Sable antelope crossed in front of us. Darren my PH assessed each animal as it appeared. Wait for the last one, that will be our Bull. As the jet black bull finally appeared his extremely impressive horns created the rush of adrenalin that each hunter feels when faced with the opportunity to take an exceptional animal. “Let him go Dave”, Darren said, “he’s a good one, but we have plenty of time and I think we can find an even better one”. To the point of amazement I was stunned at Darren’s comment. “But, Darren you can be serious, this is the kind of Sable most hunter dream of taking”, I said. He replied “you have to remember where you are, this is one of the best units in Africa for Sable, good isn’t good enough for this area and remember I have a reputation to uphold you know!” At that point I needed to either call him out or trust him. Since Darren has eleven years of experience guiding in unit 2, I though it wise to go along with the program. As you will see later, I’m glad I did.
Day one ended just in time to clean up before dinner. The dust and dirt from the day’s adventures covered most all of us. With darkness approaching we settled in for a well prepared meal. The next day was going to be more work than hunting so with dinners conclusion and a bit of chit chat around the fire pit, it was off to bed for some we’ll deserved rest.
Day Two begins with breakfast, yawns and bit of planning. Darren explains “Today we collect some old Leopard baits, the prior client used”., “we’ll find a good spot to hang them and possibly we can attract and hold some Hyena’s past sun up”. “That may be the only way to give you a shot at filling your two tags”. “Sounds like a plan”, I said and off we went. Finding these baits required extensive knowledge of the area. The trees in this region all seem to look alike. Getting lost on these grasslands which extend over 5 feet or so above the vehicle seemed like a real possibility, since it offered us near zero visibility. True to his training Darren pulled up in a small clearing and the team piled out. Our tracker removed his shoes and climbed the tree in front of us, straight up twenty feet or better only to shimmy out on a branch holding the hind quarter of some type of antelope, possibly zebra. Meat exposed for several days to the African sun, and no skin, its origin are all but unrecognizable. I won’t dwell on the smell but let’s say I wouldn’t recommend using this meat for anything other than bait. I had clearly exceeded its freshness date, but according to the team, that’s when bait is most effective.
With the 4 baits collected and consolidated into back of our now reeking, stinking four wheel drive, we located a place to consolidate and hang. Once complete, I was really glad to put some distance between me and the meat.. If Hyenas are attracted by scent, I would presume that our bait would collect Hyena from at least a few thousand miles in each direction, wind or not. Ok I’m exaggerating a bit, but I think you get the picture.
The strategy for the Hyena hunt is to get up the next several mornings well before sun up and park the vehicle a mile before the bait. On foot, follow a trail in the dark that will lead to our blind 60 yards or so from the meat. Peer over the branches of our makeshift blind and if possible take a shot at a big hyena just as the sun provides enough light to see. Sounds plausible, so my feeling is.. I’m excited, let’s do it!
The balance of the day is composed of photo ops with Cape buffalo, Giraffe, Elephant, Eland and more. Every turn in the bush held one surprise after another. Some more exciting than others. Coming face to face with a 7 foot Mozambique Spitting Cobra wasn’t one of my calmest moments. Rising out of the trail in front of us, daring us to pass, resulted in a hail of lead that put a quick end to our road block. Unwilling to get close to this large snake even in death, the team took a short detour and linked up with our trail a ways down. The bush was so thick, keeping to the trails was really the only option. Also with the Puff Adders and Cobra lurking around, staying on the trails was also necessity to survival. We ended the day with meals and stories. Which is exactly the way every day ends on an African Safari, providing all goes well, and this day it did.
The morning of day three started at 4:45am, a bit of breakfast and a small fire offered the greatest creature comforts to the team. Everyone seemed unusually quiet this morning as we focused on the challenges ahead. With frosty windows due to the near freezing temperatures the ride down the dark trail returned me to my Texas deer hunting days. Bone chilling bumpy drives in the hill county, stopping only to park the pickup and walk the last mile by moon and star light to the elevated box blind. Returning to the present, the safari vehicle came to a slow rolling stop, a few quiet words from Darren out the window to our over dressed team riding in the open back signaled our arrival. The brisk air on our faces erased any sleepiness remaining, but the sounds of the African night heightened everyone’s senses. As in Texas we would be walking the last mile by moon light, but this time while hearing lion’s calling out to each other in the dark. Imagine being in a zoo without fences, except this time the lion’s and other animals may be watching us. I am reminded that they can see much better in the dark than we can. Darren instructs our passengers to come down and follow us. The cautious and nearly apprehensive look on our game scouts face in the glow of the trucks soft lights said volumes. This young 19 year old grew up in a small bush village not far from hunting unit 2. I’m certain that he was taught from childhood about the dangers that abound away from the safety of the village at night. Only now he was grown and supplied with a well worn Chinese AK47 assault rifle, with 18 rounds in its magazine. Feeling the cold steel in his hands only made him feel a bit more protected. Upon hearing the bolt close on the AK47, Darren our PH sternly instructed the young Scout to open the bolt. Darren’s concern was for the three of us. If we did get charged on the trail, the scout’s singular thought to save himself could cost us all our lives, as a flood of AK rounds would cut down everything in front of him, including us.
With the bolt open on the AK and everyone pointed in the right direction, we got moving up the trail. Our eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness of the African night. Various outlines of trees against the bright stars gave a sense of direction but not much more. Even with the light of the moon and stars, ten feet away within the blanket of darkness and shadows, the mind congers up the animals of nightmares. Fangs and claws just waiting for the right time to pounce. The only way to keep one’s composure is to push these thoughts away and remained focused on one footing, the trail ahead and the possibility of real action to come once the shooting starts. After what seems like hours following the well worn animal trail, we arrive at the bits of toilet paper left behind to mark our entry into the narrow lane cut to guild us to our blind. The tracker and games scout are now instructed to stay behind and only Darren and I will be permitted forward. Making any sound or misstep on this final approach could mean either an empty bait or an unintended meeting with some of African’s top predators. Each step has 100% of my focus.
Our blind was nothing more than a few branches cut and skillfully interwoven and propped up against a small living tree. It was simply created to shield our movements from the watchfully eyes of our intended quarry. If there were Lions at the bait as opposed to Hyena, and they heard anything unusual, they would come to satisfy their curiosity. This reinforces our desire to make each step forward and silent as humanly possible. Our approach was perfect, too dark to see as yet as waited for the sun to peak up just enough as to get a glimpse. With Binoculars up and focused at our bait, Darren struggled against the darkness to see if we had any visitors. Standing back to back, I would watch our back trail to ensure that we we’re not being followed and surprised from behind. Finally with enough light to see, our first stalk only served as a practice run. With no shots fired and full visibility, the truck approached our stand and we walked forward to inspect the bait. Lion hair appeared caught in the comb like bark of our bait tree. They had found the meat and had moved off to rest as the hot African sun started to warm the ground. Looks like another stalk or two before this hunt is over. As we drove away, each of us was now able to relax and take pride in our own personal fortitude.
With a early start and the sun just coming up, we took advantage of being close to a huge expanse of grasslands know to be frequented by Sable. Following a trail away from our Hyena bait a hundred or so yards we cut the track of a mature male Sable. Quietly following, we entered an area of mixed elephant grass and trees. Not far head we could make out the round black shape of a Sable rump. Unfortunately his horns were obstructed by the tree and brush. Since we are so close it didn’t take long for him to become aware of our presence and with that he took a few steps into the eleven foot tall grass and disappeared. Darren get’s rather excited at the brief glimpse of this old bulls horns and instructs us all to continue down the trail at a trot. His plan was to have our tracker climb a tree and spot the old bull in the grass. Then, by dead reckoning find our way through the grass to intercept. Meeting up a few hundred yards down the trail our native tracker climbed down from a tall tree and pointed the way through the grass. Twenty minutes later we found the old bulls tracks and follow him for several hours. Many miles later, we gave up. The old boy had headed over a rocky area with numerous other animal signs and gave us the slip.
At this point, we now find ourselves well off the main trail and deep into uncharted territory. All around us Kudu, Impala and warthog pop up and run off as we make our way back to the trailhead. With Impala on my tag list, it was time to take advantage of an opportunity. The herd ahead of us became aware of our approach and stood up from their remote bedding area. From the back of the group a male appeared and stood broadside watching us while others were contemplating their escape. Darren put up the shooting sticks and braced for the blast from my rifle. The 338 I was carrying was not the intended rifle for the impala before me, but for the much larger Sable we had been pursuing. It would do the job, but being “over-gunned” would be an understatement. Returning my thoughts to the task at hand, the Impala went to turn and leave, I needed to act and act promptly. The shot bucked the rifle against my shoulder and the herd of impala dispersed like a flock of startled pigeons. As we trotted up to the site where the buck last stood, we were surprised to find no Impala and no trace. Could I have missed this easy shot? It wasn’t’ more than 100 yards. You really start to doubt your abilities as the team continued to look for tracks or sign with nothing indicating a hit. Just then my confidence was restored when Darren turned to me with a smile and extended hand. He found the buck not 40 yards from the place we saw him last. The tall grass was preventing us from seeing him and the small hole on either side reminded me how important bullet selection is. The Barnes TSX acted just like a solid, never getting the chance to expand, leaving a very minimal blood trail, which is so critical for tracking in this country. To get a closer look, I knelt down next to the Impala buck, lifted his head to admire his heavy figured horns. It had been many months since my last hunt in Wyoming, where I took an awesome whitetail buck. I had the same sense of satisfaction then as now, admiring his beautiful coloring. He will make a splendid trophy I thought as I thanked the team. This first success made me feel good and even more connected to the African landscape. Confidence restored and the day young, we took our photos, loaded the fine antelope into the truck and headed for the skinning shed.
One down, five to go…. Stay Tuned for PART TWO --
Labels: Dave Johnson Hunting Zimbabwe Safari
