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Africa Revisited On an earlier trip flying back to the States from South Africa, I met a lady who gave me the best description of the long and grueling flight we were starting. She told me a flight to or from Africa was like having a baby. It was long and could have its problems, but once it was done you were happy beyond belief and were ready to do it all over. So, once again, I am on my way to Africa. 6/6/06 Three sixes in a row. I am glad I am not superstitious. The flight went beautifully. The only problem was at Heathrow International, but I will save that for another story. 6/8/06 (Arriving at Johannesburg) A friend and (PH) Professional Hunter, Charlie Joubert, was there to meet and drive me to camp in the Limpopo area of South Africa. The drive went smoothly, with a break for a light meal. On this trip, I was staying at a camp called Phala. It is near a small village named Steenbokpan. A few stores and pubs are all that are there to service the local ranchers and farmers. Phala has no fences around the compound. While enjoying dinner or a brandy, we were entertained each evening by a variety of game walking through camp. 6/9/06 On the morning of my first day of this hunt, Charlie, Tsele, (a very good tracker that I had on my last trip), and I were joined by a tracker named Boy. It took a while getting used to Boy. Unlike most of the trackers that are reserved and soft-spoken, Boy was outgoing and very talkative. When Boy spent time with us around the campfire, he would be very animated in his actions and speech. I actually accused him of being part Portuguese, which he thought was very funny. We loaded up in the morning’s darkness for our hunt that day. We were going to Rooiboklaagte, a ranch owned by Anna Joubert. No relation to Charlie. Charlie had scouted the ranch prior to my arrival and told me on our drive to the ranch that there were two very large kudus there. When I saw one of them, my comment was, “Oh, my god.” He was truly a trophy-sized animal. On my first sighting of the kudu, there was no shot offered and I watched him disappear into the thick cover. Later in the morning, we spotted several zebras and attempted to get closer for a shot. As we were setting up the shooting sticks for that shot, a gemsbok spotted us and barked loudly spooking the zebras. After a nice lunch, our day progressed the same way: spotting game, doing a stalk, and for one reason or another did not take any shots. I had cocked the hammer on my TC Encore several times but never used the trigger. 6/10/06 First thing in the morning, the four of us drove out to Anna’s place. I did see the second kudu at a distance, and I am not sure which one is larger. It did not matter, as there was no shot offered. After lunch, we went to a farm next to Phala. Again, we saw many trophy-sized animals but were unable to get into the right spot for the shot. An example of that is we spotted several zebras that had no idea we were in the area. A quick stalk on them was done and as we set up for a shot, two fighting blesboks ran through the herd of zebras, and all were gone. We did an evening hunt on Phala seeing duiker, bushbaby, springhare, and many other night critters. Enjoyed the adventure but did not take a shot. Back in our camp all of the guests at Ken’s other camp, Frauafrika, joined us for a delightful dinner created by Chantell and her kitchen staff. All had a great time. Chantell had married her long time friend, Jan Vos, this past year. If ever a man could cause a solar eclipse by himself, it’s Jan. Just saying that this man is big is a grand understatement. 6/11/06 First thing this morning, we went to a ranch named Ou Kruispad. It is on the Limpopo River. The Limpopo River is the northern border of South Africa and its neighbor, Botswana. We are here to hunt for bushbuck. I truly enjoy hunting for this secretive woodland antelope. While we saw several nice bushbucks, we did not see any that met my size requirements. The day was spent walking along the Limpopo, seeing an animal and judging him, in some cases doing a stalk but never taking a shot. On the drive back to camp, Charlie said he was sorry I did not get a shot. While I did not answer him, I thought it was a great day. For me, hunting and taking an animal is a big part but not the most important part. What I enjoy is being outdoors, seeing the wildlife and the wild country, and sharing that excitement with like-minded people. Yes, today was a very good hunting day. 6/12/06 This is my fourth day hunting back in Africa and with the exception of sighting in my pistol at the range, I have not taken a shot. Interesting. This morning finds us back on the Limpopo River at a ranch named Tweeriviere. This ranch is located at the junction of the Limpopo River and the Matlabas River. Two brothers, Willem and Jan Beukes, own the ranch. From what I understand, it has been in their family for many generations. After some polite conversation with the owners, we are out on the river road. Starting our walk near the southern end of the Limpopo where it crosses the ranch, we immediately see bushbuck. About two hundred yards into our walk, we spot the largest bushbuck I have ever seen. The animal is in the open and grazing quietly near the river. It has no idea we are there. Setting my Encore on the shooting sticks, I take careful aim finding a spot just below his back spine, squeezing the trigger ever so slightly. At the sound of my shot the animal runs away. I had shot just over its back. While the bushbuck was within one hundred and fifty yards, it was below me by about sixty yards. I had failed to take that into consideration, when choosing my target spot. Truthfully, a major chance missed. I was so disappointed. I actually thought the only way to stop the laughter behind me for being so stupid was the .38 caliber short cut. I thought about it but was afraid I would miss and hurt someone else with my errant shot. No, actually, everyone was supportive and understood that if you hunt, eventually, you will miss a trophy-sized animal. We hunted the river for a while longer, again, not seeing anything we wanted. I know that as I grow older that animal will appear again but only in my dreams. Charlie and I decide at lunch to go back to Anna’s ranch in the afternoon and sit in a blind. The ranch has several but the one we choose is on the ground and looks like a very large termite mound. It is located near a water hole. Once inside the blind I see that it is well constructed of thick concrete and bricks. The blind is spacious. Right away, we see animals. The animals that are in front of our blind are as close as five yards and the ones that cross at the perimeter of our sight are one hundred and fifty yards away. We have warthogs galore, huge waterbuck, nyala, kudu, vervet monkeys, steenbok, impala, and birds of every description. The only shooting I do in the blind is with my camera. Sorry but no shots taken with my Encore. None of the animals that I want came to the water hole. Driving back to camp this evening I have a strange thought. Shoot something you did not plan on. Duh. 6/13/06 While driving back to the Rooiboklaagte ranch, I am thinking that my trip is half over and I have not taken any animals. The drive out to the ranch is unbelievably beautiful. The sky is clear as the sun breaks the horizon, and I have a full day to spend with friends on a ranch full of fantastic trophies. All is good. Charlie and I plan on driving around the property for a few hours before going into the blind. Driving down a dirt trail, I spot zebras to our left. Jumping out of the truck, I know that as soon as they see or smell us they will be gone. There is no time to set up the shooting sticks so I extend my Encore to my full arms reach, sight through my scope, and take the shot. Looking up, I see the zebra I shot at fall to its left, recover its footing, and take off. All three of my companions tell me that it was a good hit. We start off after the zebras with Tsele and Boy in the front doing the tracking, Charlie behind them looking forward, and our group is followed up with me looking everywhere. We go fifty yards or so, and the trackers point out some blood on the ground. Traveling forward, the trackers tell me the animal is falling behind the herd. How they can see what they do is amazing. After we go six to seven hundred yards, we spot the zebra trying to get up. A follow up shot and I have my first trophy this trip. I can hear the herd calling to the zebra that I shot. Charlie tells me that I have shot the alpha female. He also informs me that the hide on the female is better than the male. As a PH, he wants the hunters to take the females rather than the males. A herd will pick a new alpha female from its group within a few weeks, but if you shoot the male it can take a year or more for the females to allow a new male into the herd. All in all, I am very pleased with the outcome. Tsele and Boy are to take the zebra back to camp, while Charlie and I get into the blind. They are to take care of the zebra and then return with lunch. Once into the blind, we have warthogs all around us. A flock of guineafowl numbering in the hundreds comes into the water hole. Charlie told me which species they were but I forgot. After about an hour, a small herd of impala arrived at the water hole. There were about five females and one ram or male. While the ram was very nice, I have one at home and did not think much about him with the exception of a photo shoot. I am still waiting for a large kudu ram to arrive at the water hole. A little over an hour later, the impalas are still there. Charlie has talked about this impala ram, telling me what a great animal he was. He tells me that the impala is a “real fighter.” There are scars all over his face and his horns are deeply grooved and cracked from fighting. The two trackers are due any time with lunch and once that happens all of the animals at the water hole will be gone. Looking at the impala through my binoculars I see what Charlie has been telling me. I tell Charlie, “Let’s take him.” His answer, “Great.” When I set up for the shot, the impala ram is out about one hundred yards grooming himself. It is an easy shot and I take it. As the Encore comes down from its recoil, I see the impala running past the blind. He is in full stride and shows no reaction from the shot. I glance towards Charlie; he is following the impala using his binoculars to track him. There is a big smile on his face. I look back to the impala as he is entering a treed area on the edge of the water hole. All of a sudden the impala slows, stumbles, and falls to the ground. Walking up to the impala we find him dead. My shot hit him exactly where I wanted. How that animal ran a hundred and fifty yards, after being shot, is testimony to the African animal’s strength. As we stand over the impala, we hear a vehicle approaching us. It’s Tsele and Boy. Both of them are impressed with the impala. After loading the impala into the truck, we set up the table and chairs and set out the lunch. Lunch includes sandwiches, fresh fruit, cheese, and soft drinks. Yep, it’s the good life. While we are having lunch, several animals show back up at the water hole. They stare at us then leave. We drive around the ranch enjoying the incredible habitat and animals for the next few hours, not seeing anything that interest us. Deciding to head back to camp we start back towards the main entrance. Glancing to my left, I see a huge kudu male. The wind is coming from his direction, and he does not know we are there. I jump from the truck, set up across the hood, sight through my scope placing the crosshairs on its shoulder, start to squeeze the trigger, and the kudu sees us and begins to run. I follow him with the Encore and the shot almost surprised me. Everyone jumps from the truck and tells me, “You hit him hard.” Going the eighty yards where the kudu was standing we look to our right and see him lying on the ground. The animal is not moving. As we walk up to him, I realize that I went four days taking only one shot. I missed that one. On the fifth day, I have three great animals. I can’t believe it. 6/14/06 Rising early, I realize that today is my last day in the Limpopo area. Tomorrow, I leave for the Eastern Cape. I am looking forward to hunting with the people at John X Safaris again. While having coffee and rusk, Charlie and I decide to do a river walk. I do enjoy the bushbuck. We will be going back to Ou Kruispad. Once again, we meet up with the ranch’s manager, Sam, and start our walk. I had hunted with Sam before and knew that he was very capable. Walking away from our truck and the ranch house, the morning passes with our walk producing many sightings. Holding out for a big male we see many young bushbuck or oois (females pronounced “way”). Looking across the Limpopo River into Botswana, we see a large male bushbuck entering the river and crossing over to South Africa. Charlie says he is nice and we wait. Once the animal is in South Africa, he offers the shot I need. At my shot, he falls to the ground. All I can think of is a sign at Johannesburg Airport that reads, “Welcome to South Africa.” We set up the unlucky bushbuck and take our photos. After the photos, we are driving back to Phala when I ask Charlie if we could go back to Anna’s where I could try for a warthog. While I have two very nice warthogs, I had seen several really big ones from the blind the last two days. Arriving back at the ranch, we drive around. Would you believe it? We cannot find a warthog. It’s as if they knew we were coming and were hiding. As the day was coming to an end, Charlie said he wanted to check a field where he had seen one of the large kudu before. As we enter the field, there he is. Standing out some two hundred plus yards. We set up the sticks. As the kudu turns from facing us to being broadside, I take aim and start to squeeze the trigger. The kudu jumps and starts to run as my gun goes off. We hear a sound indicating a hit. We jump into the truck and try to follow the kudu. It is running as if he had not been hit. Following the kudu, we see him run into an area of thick trees and are not able to follow him with the truck. Boy tells Charlie that he will follow the kudu as long as the light will let him. We drive out of the field and onto the main ranch road, trying to head off the animal. As darkness set in, Boy walks out onto the road. Charlie tells me that Boy had followed the kudu until he could not see any longer. He had marked the spot and said all of them would be back in the morning. My problem was I had planned to leave from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth early the next day. Charlie and Tsele tell me my shot had just hit the kudu behind the rib cage. Charlie said that the angle the kudu was at when I took my shot was good and they would look for him until they found him. Charlie promised me he would call once they found him. At this moment, there is no way I could express my complete disappointment. I need to trust Charlie, Tsele, and Boy to do what they have promised. 6/15/06 Early in the morning, I leave with Ken for the airport in Johannesburg for the second part of my trip. Driving with Ken is an adventure in itself. Arriving at Port Elizabeth, I collect my things and see Braun, one of the hunters from John X Safaris. We have an uneventful drive to Lalibela the game reserve where I will be staying. Arriving at the main lodge, called Lentaba, I am asked if I would enjoy a game drive before dinner this evening. I decline, as I want to unpack and get my room and myself in order. Around 7:30, I go to the main building. At the bar, I meet some of the other hunters and guests in camp. At dinner that evening, I have a chance to speak to Carl, my PH, about the animals I would like to try for. Carl is Rick and Sue’s son. Rick and Sue are the original owners of John X Safaris and partners in Lalibela. Off to bed around 10:30 to dream of all the beautiful animals I will see tomorrow and hopefully the phone call from Charlie. I awake this morning to the sun breaking over the ridge across the canyon from my deck. My camp, Lentaba Lodge, is comprised of a main building that has two dining areas, an outdoor one called a “boma” with an open fire and room for entertainment. There is also a formal dining room inside. The main building has viewing decks overlooking large open spaces and a spotlit waterhole for game viewing after dark. There is a quiet reading room with a fireplace and an active bar area, also with a fireplace. The grounds have an outdoor pool and a semienclosed building for billiards with a small bar tucked into a corner. There are eight secluded thatch-roofed chalets with viewing decks tucked into the gardens and surrounding bush. Within the thirty thousand sustaining ecosystem acres of Lalibela are three additional lodges, Tree Tops, Idwala Lodge, and Mark’s Camp. All of the lodges are unique in their settings and styles. Lalibela does not allow hunting within its boundaries and is very family-friendly. Never once have I said that I was roughing it. At brunch this morning, Carl tells me we will go out around 3:30 to check my gun and try for an animal. After some photography of the grounds and a short nap, Carl and I set out to check my gun. My Encore is right on, due in no small part to my Bear Claw gun case. Carl has brought along a 12-gauge shotgun and .222 rifle. Carl and I set off with his tracker. The tracker’s given name is Griffitsh but everyone calls him Gray. He has asked that I call him Gray. The three of us are going to a ranch that has been recently purchased. This ranch has been an orchard farm with many fruit trees on it. Before this ranch can be included in and become a part of Lalibela, it must have all of the nonnative plants, including the trees, removed. Carl tells me that that project will take up to ten years. We are looking for common duiker. Carl was surprised that I had hunted Africa as many times as I have and never taken a duiker. While we spotted several, none were of the size Carl felt I should take. One thing that happened on that ranch was, I saw a bontebok for the first time. They are a part of the blesbok family and are absolutely beautiful. We will try to take one on this trip. The evening ends with a pleasant dinner, then out to the boma for native dancers and musicians. It was tremendously entertaining. Lots of photos and off to bed. 6/17/06 Up this morning at 5:30 as Carl, Gray, and I will be leaving Lalibela for a new location. I am told we will be driving north to the Winterberge Mountains range to hunt for vaal rhebok. I understand we will be staying overnight at Gary Phillips’ parent’s home. Gary is a PH at John X Safaris and has also married Rick and Sue’s only daughter, Lee. Smart man. Several hours of driving on dirt roads, we arrive at a remote town named Tarkastad. We are just a few miles from the home of Beryl and John, Gary’s mom and dad. We are greeted warmly by both of them. Carl calls them Auntie Beryl and Uncle John, as it is a sign of respect. After dropping our luggage, we are off to one of the Phillipses’ ranches. This ranch is located high in the Winterberge range. We will be hunting at over 8,000-foot elevation. For a guy who lives at sea level, I think this will be a real challenge. Once on the ranch, I view a vast mountainous plane. There are no trees. Some of the mountaintops are still covered in snow. Carl says the vegetation is primarily rhino bush and sour grass. There are several deserted buildings from the twenties when the property was homesteaded. I think that living here would have been a very hard life. In a short time, we meet up with two resident ranch hands who tell us that a family of rhebok stays over a ridge across from their camp. The ridge that the locals are talking about is several hundred feet above where we are. Carl, Gray, and the two locals quickly ascend the ridge. I, on the other hand, take a little longer. I need to stop every 50 feet or so just to catch my breath. Once reaching the top of the ridge, we glass the valley floor and other hillside, and spot a small herd of rhebok a mile or more away. I was very pleased to hear they were not the ones we wanted. Equally disappointing, I found out we needed to climb higher to view another valley. Carl kindly tells me to take my time and the four of them would go up the ridge and glass for the rhebok. If they spotted them he would come back for me. No rhebok, no rhebok, please. I had gone about halfway up the ridge when Carl came back to tell me the animals were sitting about fifty yards below the other three men. Slowly, Carl and I made our way up to the others. Once there, we find out that the animals had moved down the valley wall and out of sight. Carl and I low walked down the slope trying to spot the herd. Shortly, we spotted them. Somehow, they were aware of us and were moving off. Carl glassed them trying to spot the dominant male. I sat down resting my arms on my knees. Hopefully, I will be steady enough to shoot my Encore. When the one Carl pointed out had stopped, I took my shot. My shot hit just below the animal and they were gone. The last time we saw the herd was as they crossed a ridge a mile or more away. Driving off the mountain, we took the time to stop at a beautiful spot and have a nice picnic lunch. I took several photos, and then we drove to the Phillipses’ home. Once again, they greeted us with open arms. Both of them were disappointed that I had missed my shot and said I would have another chance. Our dinner that evening consisted of a combination of wild game and domestic lamb. After dinner, we went to the living room and enjoyed a few brandies around the fireplace. We then retired to our bedrooms, happy, knowing that over the brandies we had solved most of the world’s problems. We will be leaving in the morning to go back to the high mountain ranch.
6/18/06
Arriving at the entrance to the ranch, both Carl and Gray began glassing the area in front of us. I glass a little but leave the serious glassing up to them. Gray taps Carl on the shoulder and points out toward the horizon. He has spotted a herd of rhebok. Carl points them out to me. As I glassed the animals, Carl and Gray worked out a plan. Gray, with one of the resident ranch hands, would walk toward the rhebok. They would not try to hide from the animals, hopefully moving them away and toward us. We planned to move into position for a shot. While Carl and I moved forward staying out of sight of the rhebok, Gray and the ranch hand walked toward the animals. Carl and I could see the animals moving in our direction. The plan looked as if it was working. When the animals reached shooting distance, I went prone and tried to find the animal that Carl wanted me to shoot. I had difficulty finding it. Switching back and forth between my scope and Carl’s binoculars, I saw it. The rhebok was out nearly two hundred yards and way below me. Carl told me to hold my cross hairs at the lower part of the animal’s chest, take my time, and shoot. My rest was solid. The cross hairs were steady and I squeezed the trigger ever so slowly. At my shot, Carl and I watched the animal’s run off. Carl said that I cut the hair on the rhebok’s back. Close but no gold ring. It was a miss. All of that work and nothing to show for it. I was having problems with the elevation. The air was thin and my lungs were fighting to get enough usable air to continue to hunt. After my shot, the herd moved up a canyon and stopped high on a ridge way above us. They were at least a mile away and all of that distance was uphill. Personally, I was ready to throw in the towel. Carl was not. After a minor debate between Carl and me, we thankfully decided to go back to the truck and have lunch. After a relaxing lunch, Carl told everyone to get into the truck and we drove off out of sight of the rhebok as if we were leaving. Once we were out of sight of the rhebok, Carl drove the truck to a fence line, turned the truck left, and followed the fence line up the hill. When the truck could go no further, Carl told me we would need to walk. Getting out of the truck quietly, I looked up the hill at the crest line. It was several hundred yards above us. I followed Carl slowly up the hill. Carl said that there was no rush, as the animals had no idea we were there. After a long and breath-stealing hike, we reached the spot Carl wanted us to be. Carl and I slipped under and into the shadow of a rhino bush. The animals were in front of us out some two hundred yards. It was a shot I have made before. While I could not see the horns on the male, Carl guided me to him. At my shot, the animals jumped but did not move away. I had shot just below the male, and they did not know where we were. I reloaded and took aim again. At my next shot, Carl said, “You hit him.”
Looking through my scope, I could not see effects from the hit. Carl redirected me to the male and thinking I was shooting at the right animal, I took the shot. At that shot, Carl said, “Shit, Ron, you shot a female.”
By now, the animals had move off toward the ridgeline. It was a distance I could not shoot. Way over three hundred fifty yards away. All but the female had crossed the ridgeline. Carl told me to wait and he ran, yes ran, down the hill to his truck to get his rifle and ammo. Once back, he told me to follow him and Gray up the hill. By the time I had gone one hundred yards, Carl and Gray had crossed the ridgeline some three hundred fifty yards away. Before I could reach them, I saw Carl walking back with the antelope over his shoulders. We found the ooi where she had fallen. Carl carried one while Gray carried the other back to the truck. I carried my equipment along with Carl’s rifle and all of the loose items back to the truck. While my burden was lighter than the others, I arrived back at the truck much later than the other two.
Driving back to where we had lunch the day before, we had our photo shoot. Nonhunters may wonder why the photo shoot is so important to us. They need to understand that hunters wait one to two and one half years to get their trophies back. In the meantime, all we have are the photos. I will have both the male and female vaal rhebok mounted together. We spotted the herd at 10:30 in the morning and arrived back at the truck at 4:30 in the afternoon. Six full hours. What a great hunt.
6/19/06
I awoke this morning to a beautiful African morning. After tea and toast, we drove off to visit a site on the Phillips ranch. We drove up as close as we could to a large kopje. Walked the rest of the way and stood in front of bushman paintings that university professors claim are 10,000 to 12,000 years old. After my initial excitement and my photos of them, I sat down to take in the view. This is the exact view that the bushmen must have seen all those thousands of years ago. As I sit looking at the landscape I honestly feel like a small pebble in the road of man. I am told that mostly children did the paintings and is one of the reasons that they are so primitive. Men as stick figures and drawings of rough animals and only basic colors are used. I really feel privileged standing here viewing them. I am sorry to report that they had been vandalized in the past, but time had healed the damage and the paintings were back.
Getting in our truck we drove around the ranch until we spotted a small herd of seven sables. An American, like myself, has fallen in love with Africa and bought five sables to give back to the country. Like I said earlier, they are up to seven.
On our drive back to Lalibela, we stop at a ranch owned by one of Carl’s friends. Uncle Noel and Auntie Jan greet us warmly and invite us in for a drink. Carl declines as we are going out on their ranch to try for bontebok. Once on the ranch, we drive around seeing wildebeest and impala and at last a herd of bontebok. They are on a canyon wall some five to six hundred yards across from us. Carl glasses them and then drives the truck behind some trees out of sight of the animals. Carl motions to Gray and me to get out of the truck, and we start a walk down the canyon wall trying to get into position for a shot. The canyon is covered with small trees. It is easy to keep out of sight of the herd. At last, we are across the canyon and in range of the bontebok. I get a solid rest in the fork of a tree and get ready to take the shot when Carl says. Carl tells me the one to try for, and I settle the cross hairs on its shoulders and take the shot. With that shot, they run off a short distance. Moving once again, I take a rest as Carl directs me to the animal I am to shoot. As I shoot, again, they move off, again. What’s going on? I have never missed at this distance. Carl tells me that I did not miss; both shots hit the animal but not where I should have. The bontebok showed no effects of being hit.
I did not know the problem. Was it my equipment or me? The difficulty we faced was we had a wounded animal and no time to check out the Encore. Driving around can be very rough on your equipment. On my last hunt I had a camera lens totally quit. When I had a chance to take a third shot, I took extra time and care. The Encore was in a solid rest. I placed the cross hairs of my scope on the animal’s shoulder and took the shot as if I were at a target shoot. At my shot, the animal fell straight down. At last, I had my trophy. The three of us walked down the canyon and up the other side. As usual, Carl and Gray arrived ahead of me. Walking up I saw Carl standing over a bontebok with very small horns. Looking to my left, I see the one I had shot at. What happened? Did I shoot two again? Carl said “No.” I shot the trophy-sized bontebok. The other was a female that had been hurt. Walking up to the female, she showed no sign of fear. Her backbone, ribs, and hips were sticking out. Carl said the animal had not eaten in over a week, and we needed to put her down. I offered Carl my handgun but he declined. Carl took a small fixed blade knife and inserted it into the animal’s head just behind the horns and it was dead. At no time during all of this did the animal show any fear of us. Carl and Gray felt the bontebok was just too weak to offer any resistance. The three of us speculated on what happened to the female. At first, Carl thought that the animal had a bad birthing. When we opened it up, the animal’s insides were all broken up. She had been hit by another animal or taken a really bad fall. Nature is not always kind. I purchased the dead animal from Noel and will have my taxidermist do a mount with both animals. Back at Lalibela, I clean my Encore completely, tighten all of the screws, and check out the gun at the range. My shot hit two inches to the right at thirty-five yards. That would be five to seven inches at the distance I was shooting at the bontebok. Adjusting my scope, it was dead on once again. I was ready to go hunting. At the range, Carl tells me that Ken had called Rick earlier today. Charlie and the guys had found my kudu on the third day of searching. At this moment, there are no words that can express my pleasure. Thanks, guys. 6/20/06 Today, I rose late and relaxed around camp. I took several photos, as there always seems to be something new. At 10:30, I joined the nonhunters in camp for a nice brunch. After brunch, while enjoying a cup of coffee and talking with the others, Gray approached and told me Carl wanted us to join him at the skinning shed. Joining Carl, we load up the truck and head toward Kenton on Sea. Driving through the town and north on 72, we make a left onto John Ford’s ranch. I have hunted with John’s brother, Adrian, as well as his cousin, Jeff. Adrian’s ranch is one of the most beautiful I have ever been on. His, as well as Jeff’s, were fun but I never took an animal on their ranches. I wonder if I have a jinx on the Fords’ property. Arriving at John’s ranch, Carl and I meet him and his lovely wife. We turn the truck over to John and off on his ranch we go. We are searching for a very special antelope, an orbi. While they are not endangered, they are on permit only. John X Safaris was only allowed two permits this year. A friend of mine, Don, received one and somehow I received the other. John, Carl, Gray, and I saw several animals, spending time looking them over. We passed on all of them, until we spotted a pair of orbi off to our left about one hundred and fifty yards away. Charlie tells me that this orbi is larger than any of the others we have seen. In fact, this orbi may be the largest one he has ever seen. Hey, don’t put any pressure on the shooter. Bringing my Encore into play, I draw down on the animal. As I am settling my scope on it, the gun goes off. I shoot just in front of the orbi. They are off. Carl looks at me and I tell him, “Hey, it was not planned. I screwed up.” The trigger is light on my handgun and I just was not ready when the gun went off. The two orbi run about fifty yards and stop, turning to look back at us. Using all of my shooting skills I take careful aim, place my finger on the trigger, take a deep breath and let part of it out, then apply pressure on the trigger. At the sound of my shot, the orbi falls to the ground. I ask Carl if I need to hit him once again? Carl smiles and says, “No.” Carl and John Ford walk toward the animal, and Gray and I take our time getting to it. As Gray and I pass over a small creek, he points out a spot of very black soil. He tells me that that soil is good at keeping off ticks. I thank him for the information, not knowing why he mentioned it, and continue walking up to my latest, and what may be last, trophy of this trip. Driving back to the main road, Carl and I see a blue duiker on the side of the road. For a blue duiker he is gigantic. The animal stands there looking at us. My gun is safely packed away. All we can do is look at him. As he disappears into the undergrowth, Carl tells me that he has seen every animal on the side of the road but never a blue duiker and that one was a giant. Once back at Lalibela, Carl tells me we will be going out that evening to hunt for night critters. Driving around a ranch we drive into a herd of hippo out of the water. They are grazing on the sweet grasses around their waterhole. Some of them are larger than a VW Bug. Carl takes a moment to tell me that there are elephants, lions, and leopards on this ranch. He says, “Be careful.” Hey, there is nothing like an animal that can kill and eat you to get your senses alert. All of a sudden, my .308 and the 12-gauge shotgun in the truck seem very inadequate. Driving near a forested area, everyone gets excited. They are telling me to shoot. All I can see is a small weasel type animal heading for the brush. Setting down my handgun and grabbing the shotgun, I take a halfhearted shot and hit behind the lucky animal. Carl tells me that was a large spotted genet. Damm, I messed up. I should have put down my handgun and carried the shotgun. A short time later, all of us spot two jackals across a large open field. Carl tells me to shoot one or both of them, if I can get a chance. One of them stops briefly, about one hundred fifty yards directly in front of us, and I take the shot. It falls to the ground. We search for the second one, with no luck. As we drive up to the one on the ground, Carl says, “Man, you smoked him.” It is a large female, and its coat is perfect. Back in camp, we enjoyed a great dinner, shared some stories along with a few brandies with the other hunters, and went off to bed around 10:30 that evening. 6/21/06 Today turned out to be one of those days hunters fear. Starting out, I did not realize it. We were on our way to hunt for blue duiker, one of the smallest antelope in Africa, on one of Adrian Ford’s ranches. Happily, Adrian remembers me from my earlier hunt. As I comment about his wife, Elizabeth, and his lovely daughter, Sara, he informs me that they have had a second daughter, Hanna. I tell him what a lucky man he is, and his smile confirms to me that he knows. Carl wants me to use a shotgun to hunt for blue duiker. While I have nothing against shotguns, I just don’t use them enough to be confident. As we walk into the dense brush and fighting branches, I tell Adrian, “I want to shoot a blue duiker, not learn to live like them.” He finds that very funny and proceeds to laugh and walk deeper into the bush. After putting me on a spot, they felt a duiker would come out. I wait. Within a very short time, there is a very small animal coming out of the brush at my feet. Carl yells for me to shoot. I shoot. I shot where the animal was. Yeah, I missed. Carl tells me to get ready, as the animal will come out just above us. As I stand ready, the animal busts out of the underbrush directly in front of me. The shotgun comes up and I fire, missing it completely. At my second shot, I hit the animal in the hindquarters. It hunches up and runs off. Carl hands me additional ammo. I try to reload but am not familiar with the gun and cannot. The duiker disappears into the dense brush. For the next hour, we search with dogs and are unable to find the small antelope. At dark, we all agree that the antelope is more than likely dead in the dense brush. Carl tells me, “We could have walked by the duiker just a few feet away and not seen him.” Sadly, we must give up the hunt for the small antelope and drive back to Lalibela. I do not say this to entertain anyone who reads my book but mainly for myself. I know that the hunting gods forgive me for my infraction, as I did the best that I could. My only consolation is the small antelope will feed others in the bush. 6/22/06 This morning, I awoke to rain on the thatched roof of my chalet. Carl had said last evening that we would have rain before the sun came up. We had decided to take the day off from hunting and go shopping in Port Elizabeth. Shopping in Port Elizabeth is always fun, and I am happy to say that there was no rain. Yes, the sun had come out in Port Elizabeth. The first store we visited was Wezandla Gallery and Craft Center; I had been there three years ago. Glynis Baer, who I suspect is an owner, greeted me by name. One of the reasons I enjoy shopping at Wezandla, besides the great artwork, is they will ship everything for you. No overpacking your suitcase. It turned out that Carl gave me a traditional African chair and at another unique shop, Melvill and Moon, I purchased from Rob Melvill a rucksack from Mali a country that contains the town of Timbuktu. When I was a young man, the area was called French West Africa and the city was spelled Tombouctou. But that was a long time ago. The rucksack was made of camel hide and mud cloth by a nomadic tribe called Filani. I also purchased a British officers pith helmet, along with a few other gifts. Glynis packed everything for me and hopefully, in a few weeks, everything will be back home, safe and sound. It turned out that there would be four of us going into town. Rick, Carl’s dad, and a gent named Gene Bishop will join us. Gene Bishop is a good friend of Rick and Sue van Zijl and has built a spectacular 12,000 square foot home on the grounds. The first time I drove up to the home, I thought I was driving up to one of the lodges. Gene and his lady friend, Nancy, live in Africa four months a year. Gene, Nancy, her daughter, Lindsay, along with Lindsay’s friend, Sidney, are staying at the home. The four of them are from Georgia, USA. When we were in their home, I learned the true meaning of southern hospitality. When they visited our lodge for dinner and cocktails after, those lovely ladies and yes, Gene, too, turned that evening into a pleasant event. There are three other families in camp. The Meyers are from Kansas. The Rosettas and the Slaughs are from Utah. They all had their families with them, and that is something I love to see. Kip and Sue Slaugh had their son, Dallen, with them. Dallen is ten years old and was very happy to show me the video of his hunt for impala and blesbok. One shot each, and they went straight down. Very impressive. Congratulating him, I find out he is not a beginner that the impala and blesbok are his sixth and seventh trophies. 6/23/06 I was planning on getting up at 6:00 this morning but heard something just after 5:00. Not sure if the noise was real or a dream. I listened closely. There it was, again. Yes, I was awake. What I heard was the sound of lions on the prowl. Yes, the sound was closer the second time. Over the next three quarters of an hour, the sound got closer. At one time, I actually looked out my bathroom window, expecting to see them walking by, and yes, I did load my single shot .308. Later, at breakfast, I found out that all of the hunters had done the same. Believe me when I say that it is a very strange and primitive sound. After the lions had moved away from camp, an armed ranger showed up at my door to escort me to the main building for breakfast. The ranger told me that the lions had been on the edge of our camp. At breakfast, all of the talk was of the lions. One of the rangers, Ryan, told me that Carl had arranged a game drive for me this morning. I was told that when I was ready he was available. Driving out onto the reserve, we saw all of the normal animals. Then, we spotted a large herd of springbok and black wildebeest. We had parked off several hundred yards, but the animals in front of us were very nervous. They would start to move off in one direction, stop, then start in another direction. I did not think we caused the situation. Telling Ryan about my thoughts, he pointed out two wild dogs near the herd. Now I had my answer. When the herd animals saw the dogs, they moved off quickly. The springbok, displaying as they moved off, spread the hair on the hindquarters and jumped into the air. All of this to let the wild dogs know they were healthy. Once everything settled down, I was very surprised that we were able to drive up to the wild dogs. We actually got within five feet. I shot several photos, then drove off. The dogs were so relaxed that we needed to make a sharp noise in order to get them to lift their heads. Ryan told me that they had just eaten, so they were relaxed. Looking at their faces, I could see the bloodstains. Driving back to the lodge, Ryan and I spotted the lions. He told me to stay seated. The vehicle does not affect the lions, as long as they do not see the outline of a person. The lions were not as relaxed as the dogs. We were able to get close but not like the dogs. I did manage to get several photos, before they moved off into the bush. In the afternoon, Ryan and I went out again looking for buffalo and rhino. No luck finding those animals, but we saw many others. Late in the day, we drove to a large rock outcropping and watched the sun setting on a beautiful day. Ryan had left the land rover and set up a table, broke out a brandy glass, and poured me a generous drink. What a way to spend the end of a day. Enjoying fine brandy and taking photos of a spectacular sunset. On the drive back to the lodge and a nice dinner, we saw waterbuck silhouetted in the remaining sunlight. 6/24/06 While I travel light, it still takes a while to pack for my trip. After packing, Carl drove me to Port Elizabeth and the airport. My flight from Port Elizabeth to Johannesburg was uneventful, and that is the way I like it. In Johannesburg, I relaxed in the Iberian lounge until my flight was ready. Then off to Madrid. Once in Madrid, I had a small problem. I did not speak Spanish and very few of the attendants spoke English. I needed to find the firearm recovery area. While I could check luggage through to Miami, I was unable to do that with my gun case. I needed to recover it from security and recheck in for the next leg of my flight. Finding the recovery area, I showed my papers to the security person and was told that a .308 was a prohibited military caliber in Spain. Asking the attendant what I needed to do, I was told that I needed to fill out a form and pay a fee. I said I had no Spanish money but had rand, pounds, and dollars. The attendant said my dollars were fine. When I asked how much was needed, he said ten dollars. Not bad, but the smallest bill I had was a twenty. He smiled, said that was fine, pocketed the money, and handed me my export form. Then he told me that he would take me to the check in area for my flight to Miami. Actually, it was worth the twenty. The security attendant took me to the American Airlines counter where my export form was looked over, and I was asked several questions. I received smiles from everyone, as they took my gun case. Our flight from Madrid to Miami was delayed over an hour, and while I only had three hours and fifteen minutes before the delay to check through customs at Miami, I was afraid that I would not make my connecting flight. Arriving in Miami, I went through passport screening with no difficulty, then entered the customs room. No one was there; I walked right through with my gun case and luggage and checked in for my flight home. I even had an hour left to have a beer and sandwich before boarding. Arriving at San Francisco International, I picked up my truck and drove home. While this trip is physically over, I still have the enjoyment of working on my story so that I may share it with my friends. Anyone wanting to go to Africa in 2008 let me know. I will be going back. |
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© Copyright: Ronald Machado - 2002
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