Recently hunted in South Africa. Anyone want a recap?

[LopeHunter]

Eventually, I was a sophomore in high school and Mr. Hoffmeyer assigned Hemingway’s tale of Francis Macomber to our American Literature class. Africa was back in my life. Africa began to have a personality. I read the Snows of Kilimanjaro a year later.

And yet, once again my vivid daydreams of Africa faded. Meanwhile, I was tipping over whitetail deer with a .6mm rifle using tags bought at the local hardware store. Put your money on the counter in that era and you walked out with a firearm deer tag good for use during the rut.

I finished high school then earned a college degree. I moved “out West” during the mid-1980s while still in my twenties. I was bewildered to learn that securing big game tags out West was typically much different than Missouri. What is this tomfoolery?

I honed up on big game draws. I accepted the likelihood that the better deer hunting experiences might take years or decades to draw. Elk tags likely would take even longer. Pronghorn tags might be a bit sooner. Bison, moose, mountain goat and bighorn tags were far from a certain thing if diligently applied in multiple states for a decade or more.

I began applying for big game tags in several states. I was eventually drawing one or two very desirable tags each year. Was memorable as I road-tripped the American West which I had mostly only seen from an airplane’s window.

I became comfortable showing up to a unit where I had never set foot then hunting with whatever weapon the tag required. The first ten hunts were about a flip of the coin if would be tag soup. After that learning curve of new species and terrains and weapon types, I rarely ended up not filling a tag. I harvested big game with rifles, muzzleloaders, shotguns and bows.

About every tenth year, I would draw a tag for a mountain goat so hunted Alaska, Colorado and Montana. Drew one Shiras moose tag in Idaho and a bighorn ewe tag as a second choice in Colorado. No bighorn ram tag. No bison tag. Drew an oryx tag in New Mexico and an aoudad tag in Texas. Hunted feral goats in Hawaii. Alligators in Florida.

I got old, though, as you can follow over a couple of decades of photographs.



Photograph: 2002 Oregon Pronghorn




Photograph: 2009 Alaska Billy




Photograph: 2015 AZ Coues




Photograph: 2018 Wyoming Elk

 

[LopeHunter]

At some point around 2000, cable television added hunting shows including a couple focused on hunting Africa. This is also around the time I began to surf the web looking for bulletin board hunting websites. I eventually realized my understanding of a modern African safari was quite flawed. The early Tarzan movies I grew up watching were filmed in Florida rather than equatorial Africa. Hemingway’s version of a safari was all but non-existent. You needed a guide at your side on these hunts. Dang it.

Sure, Africa in 2000 still had pockets of remoteness which could be hunted though is for the most part not what we would label wilderness using North American metrics. You might encounter someone herding goats with clanging neck bells or stumble onto game snares or poisoned watering holes. We are blessed here in America to have wilderness in hundreds of locations which still offer access for big game hunting.

I was not keen to have a mandatory guide along on an African hunt. Part of why I hunt is to test myself against the mountain. I have used guides in America but only on a handful of times and usually when I wanted to get a few miles away from where the dirt road ends while still being able to get harvested meat out quickly.

The amazing African dream of my youth had gradually been sawn down like Roy’s rectangular dinner table.

A couple more decades pass.

My spouse and I had navigated beyond the siren call of needing “just one more dollar” before were confident we had “enough” for our golden years. Feeling comfortable to stop working is not an easy mental hurdle for some folks. My wife grew up hustling for ways to pay for college and launch into her career. That drive continued as she advanced in her career. She was her own safety net from age sixteen. My wife retired at the end of 2019.

I, on the other hand, had multiple safety nets on my journey into adulthood. My career weaved through stints in accounting, high tech sales, graduate school, NBA team operations, Venture Capital research staff until I spent the last twenty years nurturing and growing a sales team for a growing low-tech company. I enjoyed the evolving challenge of my role and liked my team, colleagues, vendors and customers.

And yet, I did not want to work until I tipped over out of my office chair. In early 2021, I chose a day which fell in the first week of February 2024 as the exact day I would retire. I would leave my role after exactly to the day upon reaching twenty years of service which also was my deceased father’s birthday.

I was optimistic re retirement. My wife was thriving in retirement. I was confident I would also thrive in retirement. I was not running away from work but instead seeking to gain even more free time to do what I already enjoyed doing away from the office. I looked forward to more days spent on photography, slower-paced road trips around America, flat land hunts, writing and entertaining our four grandchildren.

I decided I would embark on a bookend event which would clearly delineate between when my work career ceased in February 2024 and my retirement launched. I parsed though various options. My spouse suggested an overseas trip. Where to go? I dusted off my childhood dream of Africa. I set aside funds for an all-in door-to-door budget including a donation to a rural African school. Let’s do this!


Photograph: Deciding on which camera gear to take to Africa

 

[LopeHunter]

Where to go in Africa? I set aside time during multiple weekends to read multiple inspiring, vibrant African hunt recaps involving several countries. Many of the recaps brought to life mesmerizing adventures where big game species roamed on fenceless open expanses. Incredible! The adventures typically involved days seeking out large specimens of one or two species to then attempt multi-hour stalks. My physical condition was not going to mesh well with hiking miles each day.

I was also leaning to a hunt where I would have shot opportunities spanning Cape buffalo and several plains game species. I opted for South Africa. Yes, this would be mostly shooting and not hunting in the way I had done in America where could measure myself against the mountain. I checked references provided by a ranch and from additional prior hunters I found through my own research. I was comfortable my expectations were realistic as was my back of the envelope budget.

I decided to head to Africa during our springtime 2024 for three reasons. Spring is when there is a lull in American big game hunting seasons. All I would miss stateside was the tail-end of spring turkey hunting which I enjoy the heck out of though tipping over a Cape buffalo is an entirely different level of exhilaration. Secondly, I wanted to make the trip soon after I retired. Finally, why not celebrate my birthday on this hunt when Africa would be in early autumn?

How was my experience now that the dust has settled over the past six months?

My trip to Africa was everything I was hoping for and much more. As anticipated, there was plenty of shooting and a bit of hunting. Tried several stalks following Cape Buffalo tracks carrying a .375 rifle but the stars never aligned. I truly am no Hemingway tossing back sundowners under the stars much less a Boddington patiently putting in weeks of intense effort to find one magnificent trophy.

My boots and hat were similar to those guys though my approach aligned with going on an educational vacation where I would leave the heavy lifting to the hosts and staff.

I was grateful for every moment of my trip as I shoehorned three years of hunting into two weeks. Every aspect of the adventure which unfolded was imprinted into my brain. The views. The critters. The smells. The interactions.

My adventure was my most productive compared to my dozens of North American big game outings. In Africa, I was able to harvest eight animals. These animals can be variously compared to one North American bull bison, two bull elk, three mule deer bucks and two pronghorn bucks. Obviously, very few hunters in America obtain eight big game tags in a year. Heck, hunting eight tags spanning multiple species using just two weeks away from work would be a tall task.

My adventure took place in the South African bushveld just south of the border with Botswana while was a bit further southwest from Zimbabwe and even further west of Mozambique.

The animals I encountered were an integral portion of my experience. The sounds of the birds. The snakes encountered, though, thankfully mostly what I saw was merely tracks in the soft dust and sand.

Several times animals which were not present one moment would then be standing relaxed drinking water in front of the blind. I am not into mumbo jumbo things such as horoscopes or energy vortexes though I absolutely felt something at times there in the bushveld. There is an energy, an energy with an edge.



Photograph: Hard to go back to drawing a bead on a coffee can once you have African soil on your clothes


Next up by this weekend, more photographs including any harvests as I create a short blurb of each day in Africa. Will be a much different approach as we now will transition into weapons, distances, critters encountered and weather.

Thanks for following along.

 

[Birdbander]

Great writing!

 

[Salmonchaser]

I was putting pencil to paper just last night, figuring how much my second trip will cost. Trophy fees are about the same as two years ago, day rate is the same as two years ago. After reading your story I’m going back! Great report, thankyou.

 

[timberman56]

kudos. thanks for posting..retirement is just around my corner and an African hunt/2nd honeymoon is in the plan. I think I had the same barber as you but his name was Mr Curtis Pope and he had a full mount of a pinball buck under glass in the shop - great guy

 

[Muskeez]

Cant wait to read more!

 

[duckhunt]

This is a great read.

 

[VikingsGuy]

Yes. Sable pics please. The most intriguing African animal for me personally.

Ask and yea shall receive:

 

[Hunting Wife]

Ask and yea shall receive:

View attachment 350132

Wow. They are just gorgeous.

 

[Salmonchaser]

They are the most beautiful of all the game in Africa. I had the crosshairs on one but I knew the trophy fee and I was well over budget already. Great writing Lopehunter, thanks for sharing.

 

[Sytes]

Amazing! Simply amazing animal!

 

[Texfan91]

Awesome to see

 

[LopeHunter]

Back in the saddle.

I had a handful of operational to-do’s during the months prior to reaching Africa: Booked the roundtrips 10 months before my flights on United Airlines as dislike Atlanta airport which Delta uses. I have done okay on 13-hour flights sitting in Economy and Economy Plus on Amsterdam business trips but is uncomfortable for me. The flight to Africa would additional hours aloft.

There were no $199 roundtrips though hope springs eternal. I compared the airfare in Economy Class vs. Economy Plus (you still share aisle access with two other passengers in Plus though the seatback reclines a bit more with a few inches more legroom) vs. Polaris Class (every seat has unimpeded access to the aisle, a couple of feet more legroom, more seat width and converts to a lie-flat award-winning mattress).

Economy Plus was an easy justification over Standard Economy for me. Economy Plus is still not ideal as my knees push into the seatback unless I man-spread to each side of the curve on the seatback in front of me. My legs do not fully extend under the seat in front so I end up at a diagonal hillbilly yoga contortion to sleep. Here is the deal. Eventually, you or one of the other two passengers you share aisle access with is stepping over other sleeping people in your aisle. Or, the person if front of you shifts so the seatback sparks additional discomfort to your knees. I never seem to get more than 30 minutes of deep sleep before being disrupted. I can get several cat naps.

The extra cheddar for Polaris class did not seem worth it. Is good to suffer a bit when are otherwise living a comfortable life. Maybe this parallels why a monk opts to wear scratchy, wool robes. Builds character.

I was booking Economy Plus flights online and had just chosen my seat assignments (window near the wings) when a session of "Let's Make a Deal" started where I was offered heavily discounted Polaris Class. I lack any impressive frequent flyer status with United. Was bewildering why United felt any urgency to micro-manage revenue months ahead of the flight. Worked out for me as I paid less than 50% more than Economy Plus to nab the lie-flat seat. Screw this building character nonsense.

>> Brief Timeout re a Rookie mistake: My major misstep in planning this trip was not acting to buy travel/medical/evacuation insurance within the first two weeks after I paid the first deposit related to this adventure. I missed out on having pre-existing conditions coverage. <<

I bought a leather-bound journal and began scribbling a few months before booked the trip. I am using those notes to create this recap along with reviewing pictures and video.

What went into the journal? I created a section in the journal for each of the animals I might shoot with blurbs on identifying a mature animal, judging the horn length, noted the shoulder height and weight, jotted bullet points on their behavior such as time of day go to water and what eat, and taped in a printed diagram of the broadside kill zone.

I have limited room in our home for more mounts so I created a grid in the journal that rated, 1 to 10, the skull mount and a shoulder mount and if the backskin would result in an interesting pillow for the sofa. I sent an email to my wife with a shoulder pose and euro mount and pillow for each of the animals I planned to shoot and she picked her choice on skull/shoulder/pillows. I taped a shoulder mount style in the journal for the gemsbuck and impala. The other animals would be Euro skull mounts. I would get as many pillows as could from the backskins and one shave kit using part of the cape buffalo hide.

I added another section in the journal for expected high/low temperatures, days of rain, times for sunrise/sunset and moon phase for the days I would be hunting.

I added a brief overview of the geological history of Limpopo, a timeline for what people were living in the area over the centuries and what industry is active there today.

Basically, my version of a quick reference guide as hit the ground plus empty pages to capture my thoughts during the hunt.

 

[LopeHunter]

I still needed to acquire a few items for the adventure beyond airfare and a journal. I purchased a few new items from Amazon such as reference guides for birds, mammals, and plants as well as strong tick repellant and some educational supplies to donate to a school. I elected to not take camo clothing on this hunt so I used eBay to eventually gather two used heavy green cotton shirts, two pair of used green pants and a used green canvas coat as well as a pair of lightly worn W.C. Russell boots.

Why seek out used clothing? I hate, hate, hate showing up with flawless new gear where will encounter around other hunters. Virgin gear with no obvious wear implies this might be your first rodeo or are all hat but no cattle. Scuffed up gear may not mean you are a good hunter but shows you have tried a few times in the past.

I tracked down a few used books by Ruark, Capstick et al to read.

As for the pile of items I gathered specifically for Africa, I would wear the Russell boots back to America and keep the leather journal. I left all the books, Africa clothes, leftover tick repellant, etc, with the lodge.

Medical tune-up. My physician suggested I get some precautionary shots. He also provided written prescriptions to carry to Africa along with my normal meds plus a letter explaining why I would travel with ten pain pills on this trip.



Why the pain pills? Kidney stones and I am a klutz.

How big a klutz? Well, there was the time my mountain horse (for that day, Maverick) decided to start tap-dancing as in fading evening light we topped a steep ridge where transitioned from 18” of snow onto wind-scoured, bare terrain sporting an icy glaze. I ended up bailing on the uphill side after about 5 seconds of rodeo then gravity kicked in so I began to toboggan under the horse’s belly but alas got curb-stomped on my left knee before continuing another 45 feet until could grab a lonely shrub.

Or, the time my mountain horse (for that day, Jordan) became convinced that the curved stick which the pack horse in front of us stepped on in fading light was a rattlesnake. I have been around and on horses before was a kindergartner. I have never heard a horse make the squeaky sound of alarm that led to a bronco ride but as the saddle began to rotate to the left after about 12 hops I bailed though my left hand’s pinky decided to get lassoed by the leather reins resulting in a dislocation which I could reverse but also a fracture.



And, not just horses are required. I face-planted while navigating upslope on scree in an avalanche path near the top of the Continental Divide. I back-planted when rotten rock pulled loose while trying to climb up a 15’ sheer wall to reach a ledge where I suspected my wounded mountain goat was bedded.

I had a trail on a steep ridge give way while toting a legitimate 110 pound load and my right knee smashed into a sharp rock slicing through my pants at the reinforced double-layer protecting my knee to expose a bit of the patella.

None of these events convinced me to go home until I punched the tag.

I do not even need to be on adventures. I popped a hamstring playing ping-pong at work. In a span of nine months I had an appendix split (turns out I had two), my Sigmoid colon decided gangrene was something to screw around with and find out followed by my gall bladder throwing in the towel. For those of you keeping count that involved three surgeries, two spinal taps to enable blood patches and one virtual coin flip where my wife had to tell the medical team whether to first treat my pneumonia or gangrene as the treatments clash if done in parallel yet sepsis had shown up unwanted like Cousin Eddie. Last Rites were given on Day 19 so I got that going for me which is nice.

I returned from Africa with ten pain pills. Who has two thumbs and is living the dream? This guy.

Booked a hotel room for the night I would arrive in Africa. They would send a driver to meet me inside the airport as I arrived to Africa.

Practiced with my camera gear.

Counted down the remaining 300 days until would board my flight. I was busy with work during most of the wait then as retired in February I was involved in selling our home near work, packing up three decades of stuff then moving to our vacation home in the desert Southwest. So, plenty of distractions. The days raced by and there I was finishing my packing my two duffle bags and Osprey backpack for the next day.

 

[LopeHunter]

April 23: The trip begins! Alarm at 6:15am and if all goes to plan I will touch down on the tarmac in Africa in another 26 hours. Easy check-in at the PHX airport as was not taking my rifle nor any pointy things. Checked through two duffel bags which each weighed 70 pounds mostly containing school supplies (solar lanterns, solar calculators, scissors, pencils, pens, paper, stencils for practicing writing letters and numbers, construction paper, three sizes of soccer balls, etc.) and those items which I could not carry on the plane such as tick spray.

Cleared security in Phoenix. My Polaris ticket to Africa allowed me access to the United Club for a free buffet breakfast and I ate good. Not much food there suitable to pocket for eating later during the first flight. Filled my insulated water bottle with ice and a bit of water.

Boarded the plane and stowed away my Osprey pack and camera bag. Departed on schedule.

Landed at EWR in Newark on time then stopped into another United Club for a warm meal and to relax. Put ice in my water bottle. Pocketed some citrus and a breakfast bar.



Boarded the airplane and settled into Polaris class seat with my Osprey and camera bag stowed above my seat. The flight attendant for my section handed me a pair of pajamas, a nice blanket which I could keep and an amenities kit. I ordered my meals. The plane took off on time and I soon had my seat all dialed in for comfort. Watched a movie. Ate. Was now two hours into the flight. Changed into the pajamas and slept deeply for four hours per my Apple watch and iPhone health application.

Crossing over the Atlantic Ocean is a big portion of the flight duration. I slept two more times on this flight but in total less than three more hours. I normally sleep around six hours per night so was on schedule for sleep. I felt rested.

April 24: I have now crossed over the Equator into the Southern hemisphere! I have flown more than two hundred roundtrips for business and personal travel yet never previously left the top half of our planet. Going back four generations, it appears only my mother’s brother had ever crossed the Equator.

That uncle and myself were kindred spirits. We were the only ones of our respective generations to permanently live than 200 miles from where we were born. In those generations, I have hunted more states for big game and am the only one to have hunted beyond the Lower 48 when I previously went to Alaska for mountain goat and then Hawaii for feral goat. I have killed more big game animals and more species. The bulk of my hunts were solo, unguided and on public lands using hunting tags obtained in state draws. And now, in a mere 40 hours, I will be hunting in Africa!

I am proud of my sense of adventure. My hikes far from where the dirt road ends have led to moments of awe and tranquility. Bull elk bugling back and forth dozens of times in an hour. Sunrises and sunsets with no one else for miles. Standing on mountain tops. Crossing glaciers and hopping crevasses. Hunkering down during nasty storms with lightning strikes so close you feel the static electricity then the flash of heat. Trees creaking in high winds at night and crashing to the ground. Going to bed as snow falls then waking to find clear skies and shooting stars. Life has been good and I have had more than my share of good luck.

The sun was setting when the landing gear lowered as the pilot guided us to land at JNB airport in Johannesburg. Soon I stepped off the plane and I smiled as I breathed African air deep into my lungs. Hello, Africa! This is going to be amazing.

Several hunters who previously made this trip said they were a bit jealous because only once can you first experience hunting in Africa. They were not lying and now I will also be jealous as you make your first trip to hunt Africa.

 

[LopeHunter]

I followed the stream of other passengers for fifteen minutes as we headed towards Customs to join the end of a queue of several dozen passengers. In 20 more minutes, I stepped up and handed my passport to the Customs official seated in an elevated glass booth. I answered a brief set of questions. He was satisfied and stamped fresh ink in my passport.



Claimed my two checked duffels which I piled on a free luggage cart then added my Osprey, camera bag and a nylon sack which I had removed from my Osprey to hold the swag from United. I entered the Main Hall.

The plan now was simple. I would be greeted by a smiling van driver sent from the Africa Sky Guest House which is where I would spend that first night. Since I did not bring a rifle, I would quickly be whisked away. I was ready to get a shower. Ready to eat. Ready to wind down and sleep a few hours.

About 20 guys in logo shirts of various hotels and tour groups were holding sign boards with passenger names. Exactly zero of those sign boards listed “LopeHunter” nor did anyone showcase an Africa Sky logo. I was quickly becoming the obvious lost lamb in the den of hungry lions. How many lions? No less than 100 grifters. That is a 5 to 1 ratio of grifters vs. good guys. Crap. Plans always encounter curve balls and you embrace the suck. This was a bit early to get brushed back by an inside curve ball pitch.

Lots of smiles and offers to help by my new friends. A few were aggressive wanting to steer my luggage cart or hold a bag or two for me, arrange a hotel, a tour, a taxi, etc. So very helpful. I had lived in Los Angeles for years after I had bounced off a Midwestern turnip truck. Los Angeles had been boot camp for a young adult needing to gain street smarts. That said, walking with a purpose and not making eye contact is difficult when have a small mountain of gear on a cart and are scanning the masses for the AWOL driver.

I travel wearing a thin money holder suspended from my neck and tucked under my shirt and jacket. I had placed some currency in each shoe just before landing as a good luck charm. I would not be pickpocketed.

There was exactly zero visible security patrolling the Main Hall. No obvious kiosk where might ask questions or request a paging announcement. I glanced around the doors and walls and did not see any security cameras. Nor, my driver.

This is a bit snarky but I suspect these grifters have morning coffee with airport staff on a regular basis to hand over a cut of the prior day’s action. I have no other explanation for there not only not being any security personnel in the Main Hall but also the lack of a checkpoint restricting access of non-ticketed person into the target-rich arrivals zone.

Well, they say don’t leave America and expect to find America. They also were not lying. I was taught to plan the work and work the plan. My plan had me far from the airport by now. Reality had me in a tight spot.

Someone claiming to be the Africa Sky driver showed up twenty minutes late. No logo. No lanyard with a picture. No white board with my name but he sort of was saying my first name as he passed passengers exiting from Customs. Maybe this gentleman was late because he got delayed when he mugged my actual driver down in the airport parking structure.

An American couple was also headed to Africa Sky from my flight as well as a solo hunter though they had rifles. We would share the van ride so I waited another fifteen minutes for their rifles to be clear airport scrutiny.

One persistent pickpocket tried to squeeze into the elevator as the doors were closing for the descent to the parking garage where the van was parked. The driver took a step and nonchalantly briskly stiff-armed the pickpocket backwards. The stiff-armer and stiff-armee likely had previously crossed paths. That actually relaxed me since would require a long con to stage the elevator disturbance.

One tactic is for a pickpocket to bump you inside the crowded elevator to locate and lift your wallet then follow you out of the elevator as you are pushing the luggage cart at which point they grab a bag or purse then sprint away. If you give chase, his buddy off to the side watches you dash away then grabs a couple of things from your cart.

Once we reached the correct garage level and spilled out of the elevator with our carts, a man with an empty cart followed us to the van. A couple of guys approached within a few feet to our other side of the shuttle van and stared while bags were unloaded. No greetings nor smiles were shared.

Our driver kept eyeing our welcoming committee as we loaded our gear into the back of the van. The driver secured the cargo door then hopped into the driver’s seat. The three men all asked for a tip to return our borrowed luggage carts. The process to request funds is to clap their hands together then form a cup with their hands while indicating payment was due. Was not begging. Was closer to presenting the bill. A brief smile was flashed for us then no more smiling as we got into the van and closed the doors. I was not feeling charitable under the circumstances.

The sun was set and was quite dark as we exited the garage. The van ride was fifteen minutes which included slowing down rqapidly on the freeway then cutting off the shoulder down a slope to reach a gravel road which then led a paved road then turned onto a narrow, pot-holed dirt road where we encountered a set of oncoming headlights approaching on what my American brain screamed is the “wrong” side of the road.

I began to again have doubts if this was our legitimate driver. This was a crappy road and not much along the road. Perhaps I will return to America nick-named “Ol’ One Kidney LopeHunter.” I was seated directly behind the driver and was well into the mental gymnastics of how best to use my writing pen and leather belt to solve this riddle when the van’s headlights revealed the Africa Sky sign to the side of an impressive a security gate. I never had any doubts!

The Africa Sky compound has security fencing with razor wire and a watchman. This is absolute goodness when in Johannesburg. Google search home invasions and armed robberies and you will ask about the razor wire rather than the quality of the swimming pool as consider a stay near the airport.

Now, you may ask why I did not go to the ranch that evening. No choice. More on that later.

Checked in at the hotel’s front reception area. They had me chose an entree for my dinner as the kitchen would soon close for the night. My assigned room is one of several which form a rectangle encircling a garden with trees and other vegetation. Very pleasant. Elephant made with a towel and leaves was waiting on the bed. Quiet for being a few miles from the airport. Two hours had passed since touching down on the tarmac.



I inspected the contents of my duffels. No issues. I had a very nice dinner. A half dozen languages swirled around the restaurant and along the walkway around the garden. I like that melting pot environment of guests and employees. You can discern quite a bit by how things are said without knowing what was actually said. Several guests were smoking cigarettes while sitting outside their rooms.

I showered, laid out clothes for the morning, pushed the bed near the one electrical outlet so my CPAP could be plugged in and soon was out for the count. The eye mask and ear plugs muted doors shutting and voices chatting outside. I was soon in a deep sleep.

 

[LopeHunter]

April 25: My morning alarm sounded at 7:30am. I felt refreshed though my mind rejected the reality that locally this was morning with breakfast the upcoming meal. Was still yesterday back home. I was finishing breakfast when Ryno rose from a nearby table of hunters speaking Afrikaans and introduced himself to me as my driver to the ranch. He had a logo shirt for Dries Visser Safaris (DVS) and knew my full name. I like his style.

Ryno sat down and we chatted for a few minutes about my long flight and what I planned to hunt at the ranch with my assigned Professional Hunter (PH, of course), Stian. Then, we placed my gear in his truck. Was a bit disappointed to not see an ancient, battered Land Rover for the upcoming four-hour drive.

I easily had time to head to the ranch yesterday evening so why spend the night at a hotel and burn daylight today on the road? DVS has a policy of not driving the airport route unless can complete the trip in daylight. Seems prudent.

Robberies along the route are a slight risk. Law enforcement will sometimes set up checkpoints on this route and a small contribution is useful to speed up the process to be cleared to continue down the road. Or, perhaps is not done anymore. Depends on who you ask. We did not encounter checkpoints. No greasing of the palms took place.

We did encounter a large flatbed truck hauling huge crudely-shaped silver ingots without a tarp covering the load which Ryno indicated was unusual and dangerous as visible valuable cargo could end badly for the driver.

I hopped into the front passenger seat which, unlike America, is on the left. Ah, yes, the oncoming headlights of last night. The “missing” steering wheel when seated on the left side distracted me for a few miles.

Ryno is an interesting young man, witty and very good with English which is a second language. A newlywed. He is a PH for DVS. He is working towards being eligible for dangerous game assignments. I think the process requires in-field experience, shooting some dangerous game, a sponsor that declares you are ready and maybe some more classes and tests. Is definitely a much more involved process than getting a big game guide certification in America.

Ryno, as with most of the staff I encountered, is more comfortable speaking Afrikaans for communication with other staff for urgent or nuanced matters. The staff is sensitive to speaking to each other in Afrikaans, though, as some guests are less comfortable.

Here is my confession. I never feel dumber than when surrounded by people who can switch with ease between two or more languages. My English is not that great after growing up in a town of descendants from an equal mix of refugees from 1840s Germany and the Deep South after the Civil War. My 8th grade English teacher had such a thick accent that when she said “archer” she intended to say, “orchard.” She spoke in “tongues” at Church. I went to University 70 miles from home and people asked what part of the South I was from and then when I would pull out my Driver’s License with my hometown they would reply I must have moved there a year or two ago. Yes, wolf is “wuff” and Washington is “Warshington” and running is “runnin” and double negatives come into play.

Gosh, my two years of rural high school French has faded to minimal reading comprehension while my tourist Spanish merely allows me to order cold beers, find the restroom and, of course, use profanity.

Was interesting to observe the scenery morph along the drive. Housing thinned out quickly on our drive then we encountered large agricultural fields which after several miles gave way to more instances of blocks of thick bushveld then mostly bushveld which is when we diverted off the highway using a paved exit to meet with the taxidermist which DVS promotes though DVS will deliver your skulls and skin to any taxidermist which you prefer. You can skip the taxidermy route all together and merely take photographs and videos of your adventure. Taxidermy and costs getting the trophies into your home are often more than the cost of the hunting.


Photograph: Jacaranda tree by the highway was in bloom

I appreciate the smell of a taxidermy shop. Is not a pleasing smell due to some harsh chemicals, skulls and hides though brings back memories across the decades of stopping by after a successful harvest.

Highveld Taxidermy has impressive mounts on display and in progress. Their mounts use custom-created forms which is helpful to re-create what you saw as the critter tipped over on your hunt. Was a bustling operation. Very professional. I was able to ask about specific poses for animals and having items made from backskins. Face-to-face communication was very helpful.

Is a roll of the dice with taxidermy so good luck to all of us as we sort through whether have the work done over there or back home and what shop will do the work. No one can take away your memories but can be a kick in the nards if does not meet your expectations for how the hides are prepared or the skulls cleaned or the mounts look.

I have had two taxidermy issues over the years. One taxidermist issue was when I was getting a shoulder mount of a Bighorn sheep ewe which I had harvested on a 2nd Choice draw in Colorado. The taxidermist was second-generation who decided to expand operations just prior to the economic pullback of 2008. He closed up shop. To make things worse for himself, he went radio silent and I had to go to his house to get the horns back which were now on a sawn skull. The cape was ruined. I got another ewe skull from a fish and game official out West and put my horns on that skull. If I get a Bighorn ram then will locate a hide for the ewe and mount them on the same pedestal. I am just waiting on the Bighorn Sheep Tag Gods to shine on me. Has been cloudy for several decades.

The other taxidermy issue was an Aoudad ram I harvested on public lands in the Texas draw. I was having that ram shoulder-mounted in a one-person shop and was told would be done in six months. The process took almost two years. I had a game warden go by around month nine to get things sorted out for me. Everything turned out great.

 

[LopeHunter]

Ryno and I continued to the ranch. With an hour left in the drive, we descended into a valley where there is an immense shanty village with hundreds of tiny shacks of various construction methods and materials with each shanty seemingly topped with a satellite dish. I detected the smell of smoke from wood-burning cooking fires inside the village which swirled upwards into a thick, blue haze filling the valley and muting colors miles into the distance.

We stopped for a bio break at a filling station with a secured entrance to pass through to reach the bathroom. A few blocks later we stopped at a ranch supply store to quickly grab a light bulb which the ranch needed. That was our last stop before reaching the ranch.

We were soon back on the main road and surrounded by bushveld when we began to encounter firewood gatherers walking back towards town along the shoulders of the road while carrying bundles of wood. These wood-collecting efforts frequently parallel private game fencing being cut which allows big game to escape and while predators may enter.

Around midday, we pulled up to the ranch’s impressive entry gate. The ranch’s hunting zone spans hundreds of acres of land criss-crossed in a grid pattern by 100 miles of maintained dirt roads dotted with dozens of concrete hunting blinds.

The ranch was amazing. Comfortable facilities. Hot water with good water pressure in the shower. Homemade multi-course meals. Fast Wi-Fi in the main lodge.

Maybe is the soil or the plants but the bushveld had a pleasing, unique smell I would later recognize back in the America while pulling dozens of small thorns from the underside of my Russell’s. Similar to the smell of walking though damp leaves in late fall mixed with being along a dusty road weeks after the last rainfall. That is my interpretation.

Ryno introduced me to Lize who was in her office in the main lodge close to the dining hall. Lize had been my online interface as I booked the adventure ten months prior and subsequently fielded questions which I had during planning for the trip. Lize is very organized. Lize recently wed Ryno. Cute couple with a cute tracking dog.

Cornel also stopped by to introduce herself. She manages the staff and lodge operations. Cornel makes the coordination of rooms, supplies, groceries, meals and all the moving parts look effortless. She has lived abroad and would not be out of place in charge of a famous big city hotel.

Ryno next introduced me to Stian, the Professional Hunter assigned to my adventure. Stian married Cornel about 20 years prior. I see a pattern here.

Stian has known members of the Visser family since he was a wee lad. He not only is a PH but is also involved in the farming operations along with Ryno and a few others.

As I understand, Visser Sr. is now mostly focused on farming grain, hay and vegetables plus the sable ranching operations. Visser Sr. was early in the wave that saw the potential in converting cattle ranches to offering hunts for African big game. I am not into horn porn but there are amazing sable kept in a fenced zone on a small portion of the DVS property.

Sr.’s son, Visser Jr., leads the hunting operations and has grown the footprint of the ranch through a couple of recent acquisitions. The property has dozens of hunting blinds specifically designed for archery use. Tree stands overlooking game trails are in place, also. Stalking into the bushveld after cutting tracks on the roads is another option.

I unpacked my bags in my assigned room. Very nice with lots of space to organize my gear.

Headed to the main lodge with items for the nearby school. My life has been blessed and Lize agreed to coordinate distribution of the donated items. Soon, the soccer balls were inflated!

I was served freshly-baked impala lasagna inside the dining hall then Stian and I headed to outside. I was then introduced to Phillip. Phillip is part-time driver who would drop Stian and myself at the blind, look for tracks along the road, track any wounded game should I have a sub-optimal shot and helps plan strategy for the next day. Phillip is very reserved but quick with a wide smile.

Charlie the tracker dog is Stian’s obedient Jack Russell terrier. Phillip and Charlie got to test their tracking skills exactly once during my visit. They were a top-notch team which easily found the one animal which had run the furthest falling over a ways out of our view after my shot.


Photograph: Charlie the tracking dog

 

[LopeHunter]

We walked for a couple of minutes to where can shoot at archery targets. Stian shot the crossbow I would borrow for this hunt. Spot on as hit the target.

Then I shot the crossbow and the bolt skidded into the dirt before reached the target. Oops. Awkward silence as Phillip retrieved the bolt and Stian looked at the crossbow then the retrieved bolt. This may be a long couple of weeks for them.

The only time I had previously shot a crossbow was in 2013 during an alligator hunt on public lands in Florida over Labor Day weekend and there were no issues. I had shot various bows over the decades until my left elbow routinely got sore when I practiced. I would not archery hunt unless practiced. A lot.

Stian shot again. Spot on. My turn again. I shot and was spot on. I used the same technique on this attempt so was baffled why the crappy first shot. The mood was subdued. Missing a target next to the swimming pool is one thing but a similar result in the field would have very different implications spanning ethics and the first drop of blood triggers full-payment even if the animal runs deep into the bushveld eluding the tracking efforts.

Stian would solve the mystery of my apparent ineptness but not until I was hunting. Phew. More on that later.

We hopped into Stian’s truck (a twin of Ryno’s) to drive to the ranch’s shooting range.

Stian shot a round through the .375 then made an adjustment to the scope and then shot another round. Spot on.

I shot twice and was spot on. Stian and Phillip were obviously relieved after both shots were accurate.

The rifle and crossbow were each quality gear and properly maintained. The bolts I used were brand new. All the blinds we used, the truck, the cleaning shed, the main lodge, etc, were all in very great condition. This is a rural ranch so there will be dust and the occasional fly or spider but the remoteness provides you with amazing night skies and are surrounded by bushveld and big game.

There was still some daylight so Stian and I climbed into the elevated seats anchored to the truck’s bed then Phillip drove us to check the game camera at the hunting blind where I would begin hunting tomorrow.

We traversed 10 miles of dirt roads. We bumped impala, zebra, blue wildebeest, Cape buffalo and warthog though I mostly was seeing the back portion of these animals in the seconds before they vanished into the thick bushveld.

We bumped one spotted hyena as the sun was fading below the horizon. I instantly reached deep into my memory to recall when the protagonist of The Green Hills of Africa passage is laying on the cot. Fortunately, I have no gangrene. I have had gangrene when an emergency surgery that went sideways but am shipshape now. We arrived back at the lodge as the sun as stars began to fill the sky from edge to edge.

We ate that evening on the patio outside the dining hall. A wonderful meal featuring gemsbok harvested by a hunter earlier in the week. After the meal, we moved outside to sit by the fire pit where we talked about hunting, family and travel for an hour while I kept glancing up at the stars of the Southern Hemisphere. A bartender is on duty with alcohol including mixed drinks but I rarely even have a sip. Booze kicks my rear since my metabolism headed south in my fifties. Ah, but my twenties and early thirties were a different story.

Evenings around the fire pit were a nice way to wind down the day’s events before turning in for the night. As other hunters arrived that week the discussions were even more dynamic and interesting as our backgrounds and experiences overlap and diverge.

I excused myself to head into the main lodge to access Wi-Fi. I travel with a couple of flexible silicone molds to fill with water. I set them into the lodge’s freezer so sat level and then filled them with water. I would be rewarded in the morning with eight ingots of ice to insert into my over-sized, insulated water bottle. I like to stay hydrated and the forecast was for temperatures to approach 90F which is about 10 degrees above normal for my visit which began in late April which is similar to late October in the States.

The entire DVS team is amazing. I always felt welcome. Clean laundry magically appeared in my room while I was out hunting. Every meal had ample portions including the sack lunch. You will not lose weight here. Evening meals included entrees from harvested game animals which, per my request, would include steaks from my Cape buffalo though is rarely anyone’s favorite game meat. I savored every bite.

The ranch installed solar power years ago so there were no electrical outages at the ranch during my visit which is nice since I use a CPAP when sleep. I travel with an external battery for backup for alternative power but is simpler to get the juice straight from the wall plug and not have to switch connectors during a power failure. Both my CPAP and laptop are designed to automatically adapt to South African voltage but I brought along a wall plug adapter and a voltage converter since I was not willing to gamble with frying the electronics. The CPAP has been life-altering for deep sleeps and waking up rested without a sore throat.

Unfortunately, there are recurring regional power outages in the region which is why DVS invested in solar and battery storage to avoid disruptions. South Africa’s coal-burning plants supply 85% of all energy for South Africa. So, a lot of coal is needed.

That coal is supplied by an entity which has a financial incentive to mix in comparatively less expensive yet denser rocks into loads of coal and this boosts profits. Rocks will not burn so eventually the power plant’s furnaces are choked with rocks. The furnaces then need taken offline to let the rocks cool for a few days so the mess can be cleared. With furnaces offline, generating capacity ebbs and outages arise.

Now, I am a simple man from a humble background though seems might be multiple ways to prevent taking furnaces offline for days to clear rocks though I suspect the coal sellers and power plant’s quality control staff are rubbing elbows with the airport security staff and Main Hall grifters for breakfast each morning. Did I mention the Postal Service in South Africa’s reliability has functionally collapsed in recent years? None of the postcards I sent on this trip were ever delivered to America though my postcards had the correct shape, address format and postage. I can image someone in the back room of the post office using a blow dryer to heat then peel stamps of my postcards to sell to another English-speaking tourist.

Activate happy thoughts. Put away the snarky comments. Afterall, it is I who only speaks a single language and more than once I have bounced off a turnip truck.

That first sunset at the ranch was spectacular.



Was mid-morning back home when I settled into bed at the ranch. I was looking forward to my first sunrise at the ranch though I now had two concerns tumbling around in my head as lay in bed. My crossbow proficiency was bothersome with a .500 batting average. Also, we had seen so many species while driving to check the game camera.

I was not expecting a difficult hunt in South Africa. This was a ranch with tall fences. I now was wondering if I was merely going to be shooting fish in a barrel where animals walk up to you looking for a handful of feed with perhaps an ear tag (which I never saw on this hunt and none of the animals I tipped over had a remnant hole in the ear). I once took my sons to a private trout farm where each cast resulted in immediately hooking a fish. Please, not that. Around midnight, I was out for the count.