Oh God - I can't wait. Get busy typing.
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CAMEROON: Cameroon Hunt With Mayo Oldiri 2019
- Thread starter Hank2211
- Start date
sestoppelman
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Oh, this is gonna be lovely I can see!
In my best cockney voice of course.
In my best cockney voice of course.
Oh goody, little green men making an appearance in a hunting story.
mark-hunter
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Hank, great start - looking fwd for the rest.
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I know this story has a happier ending than your Benin hunt, no potential for a broken gun since you are using a rifle from your PH.
Hank2211
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Day 1: Saturday, January 19
We've lost a day of hunting as a result of the cancelled Cam-air flight, so I'm chomping to get at it. After arriving at camp, we had a quick bite to eat, and walked over to the range. One shot within an inch of the bull’s eye and we were good to go, so we went out for a late afternoon of hunting. At this point I am still wearing my traveling clothes, and walking on Crocs (the leather kind). Guav told me not to be a baby, and we tracked eland unsuccessfully for the balance of the afternoon.
The concession is massive, and adjoins other hunting areas, so overall, game has some thousands of square miles over which to roam. While the area is described as “savannah” it would more accurately be described as “savannah woodland” since there is little open area. What areas are not relatively populated by various trees tend to very tall thatching type grass, easily 10 or more feet high, and relatively difficult to walk through. This grass is controlled, to some extent, by burning, and I was soon to discover that the area is a pyromaniac’s dream. We set fires wherever we go. I should say at this point that if any pictures or video surfaces of me actually setting any such fires, they’ve been doctored. Fake news. That’s my story.
For those who wonder when this story will turn to hunting, or if it ever will, fear not. Just around the corner . . .
We've lost a day of hunting as a result of the cancelled Cam-air flight, so I'm chomping to get at it. After arriving at camp, we had a quick bite to eat, and walked over to the range. One shot within an inch of the bull’s eye and we were good to go, so we went out for a late afternoon of hunting. At this point I am still wearing my traveling clothes, and walking on Crocs (the leather kind). Guav told me not to be a baby, and we tracked eland unsuccessfully for the balance of the afternoon.
The concession is massive, and adjoins other hunting areas, so overall, game has some thousands of square miles over which to roam. While the area is described as “savannah” it would more accurately be described as “savannah woodland” since there is little open area. What areas are not relatively populated by various trees tend to very tall thatching type grass, easily 10 or more feet high, and relatively difficult to walk through. This grass is controlled, to some extent, by burning, and I was soon to discover that the area is a pyromaniac’s dream. We set fires wherever we go. I should say at this point that if any pictures or video surfaces of me actually setting any such fires, they’ve been doctored. Fake news. That’s my story.
For those who wonder when this story will turn to hunting, or if it ever will, fear not. Just around the corner . . .
Hank2211
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Day 2: Sunday, January 20
Sunday was our first full day of hunting, and I was still without my luggage, although we had hopes it might show up by the end of the day. Luckily (for me), Dean is about my waist size, so he lent me a pair of shorts and a hunting shirt. Not much we could do about the shoes or socks though, so I went out in the same Crocs and socks I’ve worn since I left Calgary.
We were up at 4.15. Guav had said he wanted to be in another part of the concession by the time the sun came up, so were out the door at 5, and sitting on a hill top at 5.50. We glassed for a time, but could see no eland. We eventually came down, and within a short time, found some eland tracks from the night before. We began to follow them, and were still following by about 9 am, when we got a call on the radio from the truck. The driver, who we had left behind at 6, told us he had seen a herd of eland. We began to walk in that direction and suddenly came across two eland – a young bull and a cow. They had seen us, and stood frozen on the edges of thick brush. My first sighting of giant eland! Even though the bull was too young to shoot, he had impressive horns and the black neck of a bull during the rut. An awesome sight.
Guav thought this might be the tail end of a herd. After some looking around, our trackers found some fresh tracks and we began to track with renewed interest. In fact, one the trackers pulled a straw hat out of his pack and put it on. Guav and the others laughed. I asked why, and was told it was a lucky hat. On a previous hunt the tracker had gone into tall grass in search of a wounded buffalo and had come out with the hat and news that the buffalo was dead. Hence, the hat was lucky.
We had likely walked a few miles when the trackers froze. These fellows have impressive eyes, and Guav uses three of them. Two are constantly tracking, while one is looking ahead. They rotate these tasks from time to time so no one gets tired doing the same thing. I quickly learned that this is vitally important – if the eland see you before you see them, you have virtually no chance of getting close enough for a shot. And eland, like good trackers, have exceptional eyesight. They also have exceptional noses, so it's important to constantly play the wind. I think this makes eland harder than buffalo to hunt. Buffalo have great noses, but their eyesight isn't, I think, equal to the eland's.
Guv had us all freeze, and eventually slowly sit down. While sitting, the eland couldn’t see us, but one of them had clearly seen something. A cow was staring in our direction and kept us pinned down for 20 minutes. She eventually moved off, and we began to try to get closer. It seemed that every time we got to where we thought we would get a shot, the eland had disappeared. This game of cat and mouse continued for a few hours, as the temperature continued to rise, and I became hotter and hotter. By 1 pm we had been at this for nearly 7 hours, with no end in sight. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and was drinking lots of water. My feet hurt and I had developed a blister. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going. But Guav wasn’t slowing down. Until we got busted that is. At one point an eland got a look at us, and the herd left the area quickly. Guav did get a decent look at them and said there were three good bulls in the herd. A shame to have lost them, especially after so much effort.
We called the truck, and had a break when it arrived. A coke gave me a bit of energy, since we had been walking for almost 8 hours by that point. But the hunt wasn’t over yet. As we were driving back to camp, Guav spotted the herd and immediately stopped. We all piled out and once again took up the chase. This time it wasn’t long before they seemed to sense something was up, and began to move out. A bit dejected, we returned to the road and began to walk back to the truck. As we turned a corner, the front tracker froze and Guav whispered "freeze." There, not 50 yards ahead of us, were some milling eland. A big bull was partially exposed. Guav grabbed the sticks and motioned me to crawl forward a bit. He put up the sticks, I slowly got up, steadied the rifle, and took a bead just behind the front shoulder. Slow and easy (for a change), I began to squeeze the trigger. Then “click.”
Click? WTF? Guav whispered “take the safety off.” Well, it was off, or the gun wouldn’t have gone “click.” Dean, who was filming, whispered “you forgot to load.” I was sure I had loaded the gun, not 20 seconds before, but, given my exhaustion, who knows? So I opened the gun . . and ejected a bullet. Again, I say, WTF? But I reload. By this time I’m flustered, the eland know something is up, so I take a quick shot. Not the shot I wanted to take,
After the shot, Guav says I’ve “buggered up his shoulder” but he’s not sure what else. There’s no opportunity for a follow up shot. We watch the milling and see that the bull goes one way while the rest of the herd goes another, which I take as a good sign (all t his is over in seconds). A tracker has picked up the first bullet which I ejected and hands it to me. I take a quick look, and see a good dent in the primer, but the bullet is still there. The first misfire I’ve ever had and it happens on a giant eland? This is like a bad dream. I jam the bullet in my pocket, and we begin to track the eland. The trackers find some blood, but it’s not good blood. The brush is thick, and the tracking is slow. I replay the whole thing in my head, but I was clearly flustered when I took the shot and I’m exhausted, I have difficulty walking, and the lack of good blood bothers me. Wounded eland can run all day. For many days, in fact.
By the way, it occurs to me as we’re tracking that I sure hope the round isn’t an extra-long hang fire sitting, as it is, in my pocket! It also occurs to me that I should have waited before ejecting the round. But I didn’t have 30 seconds or so to wait to see what might happen – the eland would have been long gone. Shouldn’t safety have come before the eland though? Of course it should have, but all of this is going through my mind well after I ejected the round.
In any event, I’m walking behind the trackers, with a fresh round in the chamber, safety on. I see some blood on a blade of grass that looks frothy – I pick it off and show Guav – first indication that the shot hit a lung. I begin to feel a bit better about the shot.
Within another 40 yards, a tracker spots the eland under a tree. Guav sets up the sticks and I take a quick shot and miss, but he must be hurt, because he’s still standing there. Another shot and he runs, but is down within another 50 yards. Dead. My quest for the spiral horned antelopes is over, and I’m too exhausted to savour the moment.
Guav has called for the truck. Fortunately, the eland has died about 30 yards from a road. There is no shade, but we sit, and drink, and, at least in my case, try to make sense of the moment. The eland is magnificent. He’s old, which I had told Guav was more important than horn size, but his horns are still awesome. The trackers are trying to move him for pictures, and I can’t believe how big he is. The muscles on these creatures are impressive. I can’t swear that he’s a whole lot bigger than a large common eland (apart from the horns), but he seems bigger to me. Guav estimates the weight at around 800-850 kgs, so around 1800 – 1870 lbs. Not a small animal.
The eland is too big to get into the truck as he is, so once the pictures have been taken, the trackers begin to skin him as for a cape, and then cut him in half. They also cut four branches with a “v” at one end, which are to hold various pieces of guts and organs – each tracker and the driver are allocated one branch. Guav instructs them to remove the backstraps, which we put into a cooler to use for biltong. He’s loaded onto the back of the truck, with some difficulty, and we begin a slow return to camp.
When we get back to the camp, there’s a greeting committee waiting for me, with drums, leafy branches and dancing. I can’t say I’m much of a dancer, and with blisters, dehydration and a general lack of energy, I’m actually pretty bad. But it’s impossible not to get caught up in the moment. A giant eland is a significant prize, and everyone recognizes that.
It’s been a long day, and a great day, but I now find out that my luggage wasn’t in Paris when Air France had indicated that it was. It had stayed in Montreal for three days, for reasons which remain a mystery. It’s now Sunday, and I’m told it should arrive in camp on Thursday, or 7 days after it should have. I’m actually too exhausted to be as angry as I should be, and I’m just looking forward to a shower, a meal and bed. But not so tired that I don’t start to ration my travel size toothpaste (and perhaps to my hunting partners’ dismay, deodorant as well!).
Sunday was our first full day of hunting, and I was still without my luggage, although we had hopes it might show up by the end of the day. Luckily (for me), Dean is about my waist size, so he lent me a pair of shorts and a hunting shirt. Not much we could do about the shoes or socks though, so I went out in the same Crocs and socks I’ve worn since I left Calgary.
We were up at 4.15. Guav had said he wanted to be in another part of the concession by the time the sun came up, so were out the door at 5, and sitting on a hill top at 5.50. We glassed for a time, but could see no eland. We eventually came down, and within a short time, found some eland tracks from the night before. We began to follow them, and were still following by about 9 am, when we got a call on the radio from the truck. The driver, who we had left behind at 6, told us he had seen a herd of eland. We began to walk in that direction and suddenly came across two eland – a young bull and a cow. They had seen us, and stood frozen on the edges of thick brush. My first sighting of giant eland! Even though the bull was too young to shoot, he had impressive horns and the black neck of a bull during the rut. An awesome sight.
Guav thought this might be the tail end of a herd. After some looking around, our trackers found some fresh tracks and we began to track with renewed interest. In fact, one the trackers pulled a straw hat out of his pack and put it on. Guav and the others laughed. I asked why, and was told it was a lucky hat. On a previous hunt the tracker had gone into tall grass in search of a wounded buffalo and had come out with the hat and news that the buffalo was dead. Hence, the hat was lucky.
We had likely walked a few miles when the trackers froze. These fellows have impressive eyes, and Guav uses three of them. Two are constantly tracking, while one is looking ahead. They rotate these tasks from time to time so no one gets tired doing the same thing. I quickly learned that this is vitally important – if the eland see you before you see them, you have virtually no chance of getting close enough for a shot. And eland, like good trackers, have exceptional eyesight. They also have exceptional noses, so it's important to constantly play the wind. I think this makes eland harder than buffalo to hunt. Buffalo have great noses, but their eyesight isn't, I think, equal to the eland's.
Guv had us all freeze, and eventually slowly sit down. While sitting, the eland couldn’t see us, but one of them had clearly seen something. A cow was staring in our direction and kept us pinned down for 20 minutes. She eventually moved off, and we began to try to get closer. It seemed that every time we got to where we thought we would get a shot, the eland had disappeared. This game of cat and mouse continued for a few hours, as the temperature continued to rise, and I became hotter and hotter. By 1 pm we had been at this for nearly 7 hours, with no end in sight. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and was drinking lots of water. My feet hurt and I had developed a blister. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going. But Guav wasn’t slowing down. Until we got busted that is. At one point an eland got a look at us, and the herd left the area quickly. Guav did get a decent look at them and said there were three good bulls in the herd. A shame to have lost them, especially after so much effort.
We called the truck, and had a break when it arrived. A coke gave me a bit of energy, since we had been walking for almost 8 hours by that point. But the hunt wasn’t over yet. As we were driving back to camp, Guav spotted the herd and immediately stopped. We all piled out and once again took up the chase. This time it wasn’t long before they seemed to sense something was up, and began to move out. A bit dejected, we returned to the road and began to walk back to the truck. As we turned a corner, the front tracker froze and Guav whispered "freeze." There, not 50 yards ahead of us, were some milling eland. A big bull was partially exposed. Guav grabbed the sticks and motioned me to crawl forward a bit. He put up the sticks, I slowly got up, steadied the rifle, and took a bead just behind the front shoulder. Slow and easy (for a change), I began to squeeze the trigger. Then “click.”
Click? WTF? Guav whispered “take the safety off.” Well, it was off, or the gun wouldn’t have gone “click.” Dean, who was filming, whispered “you forgot to load.” I was sure I had loaded the gun, not 20 seconds before, but, given my exhaustion, who knows? So I opened the gun . . and ejected a bullet. Again, I say, WTF? But I reload. By this time I’m flustered, the eland know something is up, so I take a quick shot. Not the shot I wanted to take,
After the shot, Guav says I’ve “buggered up his shoulder” but he’s not sure what else. There’s no opportunity for a follow up shot. We watch the milling and see that the bull goes one way while the rest of the herd goes another, which I take as a good sign (all t his is over in seconds). A tracker has picked up the first bullet which I ejected and hands it to me. I take a quick look, and see a good dent in the primer, but the bullet is still there. The first misfire I’ve ever had and it happens on a giant eland? This is like a bad dream. I jam the bullet in my pocket, and we begin to track the eland. The trackers find some blood, but it’s not good blood. The brush is thick, and the tracking is slow. I replay the whole thing in my head, but I was clearly flustered when I took the shot and I’m exhausted, I have difficulty walking, and the lack of good blood bothers me. Wounded eland can run all day. For many days, in fact.
By the way, it occurs to me as we’re tracking that I sure hope the round isn’t an extra-long hang fire sitting, as it is, in my pocket! It also occurs to me that I should have waited before ejecting the round. But I didn’t have 30 seconds or so to wait to see what might happen – the eland would have been long gone. Shouldn’t safety have come before the eland though? Of course it should have, but all of this is going through my mind well after I ejected the round.
In any event, I’m walking behind the trackers, with a fresh round in the chamber, safety on. I see some blood on a blade of grass that looks frothy – I pick it off and show Guav – first indication that the shot hit a lung. I begin to feel a bit better about the shot.
Within another 40 yards, a tracker spots the eland under a tree. Guav sets up the sticks and I take a quick shot and miss, but he must be hurt, because he’s still standing there. Another shot and he runs, but is down within another 50 yards. Dead. My quest for the spiral horned antelopes is over, and I’m too exhausted to savour the moment.
Guav has called for the truck. Fortunately, the eland has died about 30 yards from a road. There is no shade, but we sit, and drink, and, at least in my case, try to make sense of the moment. The eland is magnificent. He’s old, which I had told Guav was more important than horn size, but his horns are still awesome. The trackers are trying to move him for pictures, and I can’t believe how big he is. The muscles on these creatures are impressive. I can’t swear that he’s a whole lot bigger than a large common eland (apart from the horns), but he seems bigger to me. Guav estimates the weight at around 800-850 kgs, so around 1800 – 1870 lbs. Not a small animal.
The eland is too big to get into the truck as he is, so once the pictures have been taken, the trackers begin to skin him as for a cape, and then cut him in half. They also cut four branches with a “v” at one end, which are to hold various pieces of guts and organs – each tracker and the driver are allocated one branch. Guav instructs them to remove the backstraps, which we put into a cooler to use for biltong. He’s loaded onto the back of the truck, with some difficulty, and we begin a slow return to camp.
When we get back to the camp, there’s a greeting committee waiting for me, with drums, leafy branches and dancing. I can’t say I’m much of a dancer, and with blisters, dehydration and a general lack of energy, I’m actually pretty bad. But it’s impossible not to get caught up in the moment. A giant eland is a significant prize, and everyone recognizes that.
It’s been a long day, and a great day, but I now find out that my luggage wasn’t in Paris when Air France had indicated that it was. It had stayed in Montreal for three days, for reasons which remain a mystery. It’s now Sunday, and I’m told it should arrive in camp on Thursday, or 7 days after it should have. I’m actually too exhausted to be as angry as I should be, and I’m just looking forward to a shower, a meal and bed. But not so tired that I don’t start to ration my travel size toothpaste (and perhaps to my hunting partners’ dismay, deodorant as well!).
jasyblood
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Congrats on getting your LDE!!!
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congrats hank 
gillettehunter
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Holy cow! Congrats. That was a heck of a day. Looks like we should all wear our hunting boots when going to remote locations. Blisters are not fun. Dehydration is not fun and nothing to mess around with. Glad you made the shot after the misfire. Not all of us could do that... Can't wait to see pics of him.
Bruce
Bruce
What LDE? - I haven't seen a photo of an expired LDE.
Hank2211
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I know you guys. If I post a picture, no one reads the story! And frankly, how often do you get a misfire on an LDE?!!!
Anyway, here he is.
And one with the proud papa:
Guav with one large hunk of prime eland:
Stobbs making biltong from the filet:
Oddly enough, at least to me, the SCI measuring system favours younger animals. As eland age, they wear the spirals down (as well as brooming the tips). Since the length is measured along the outside of the spiral, as these are worn down, the measurement goes down as well. One indication of his age is that the spirals have been worn down. For what it's worth, I don't know the circumference of the bases, so can't say where he'd rank under SCI, but he easily makes Rowland Ward, which goes by length of the longest horn (measured along the outside of the spiral).
Wheels
AH ambassador
Congratulations on getting your LDE. He looks fantastic!
Re-purposed 737's
Misfires / Hangfires - I'm presuming it hasn't gone off yet.
B.I.R. - Yes, I had to look them up. Especially if Red Leg mucked around with them.
Hunting in crocs and four day old underwear. - A reason to stay down wind of the eland.
Coming from the great white north in winter, hunting in shorts and looking like you have an African tan.
Sounds like an adventure worth reading more about. Looking forward to the rest of your hunt.
Re-purposed 737's
Misfires / Hangfires - I'm presuming it hasn't gone off yet.
B.I.R. - Yes, I had to look them up. Especially if Red Leg mucked around with them.
Hunting in crocs and four day old underwear. - A reason to stay down wind of the eland.
Coming from the great white north in winter, hunting in shorts and looking like you have an African tan.
Sounds like an adventure worth reading more about. Looking forward to the rest of your hunt.
Just outstanding! Lovely old bull.
PHOENIX PHIL
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Magnificent animal Hank, congratulations! And yes I read the whole story first, can only imagine how you felt with the misfire.
TXhunter65
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Thank you for the story sir, I enjoyed it immensely. Congratulations on a magnificent animal, it's the trials and tribulations that sear these adventures in our memories.
LivingTheDream
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WAB
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Wow, great hunt! You’ve reinforced my policy of always having two days of hunting clothes and toiletries in my carry on!!!
sierraone
AH legend
Congratulations Hank. You seem to have a penchant for difficult hunts, at least in recent years! And to have a misfire on top of that!
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