cmk
AH enthusiast
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2018
- Messages
- 454
- Reaction score
- 611
- Location
- Stockholm, Sweden
- Media
- 27
- Hunted
- Sweden, Mauritius, Namibia
Apart from having dreamed for years about a buffalo hunt in a remote area, not a lot of planning went into this one. One day in May this offer popped up: https://www.africahunting.com/threads/mozambique-buffalo-hunt-special-tsala-hunting-safaris.82115/
After checking a few details with Rouan and other members here, I didn't think to long about it. Verified that summer vacation could be moved a little, and the dates were settled for the second half of August.
The rifle to bring was a given - my semi-custom Sako AV in 404J. Trying to pick a load was trickier. I had a good recipe for A-Frame, but as we all know, they are hard (impossible) to come by these days, and my stock was simply too low to allow for enough 'real' practice rounds. I have some TSX lying in wait, but I hadn't really worked up a load for them. Lastly, I had a few boxes of 400gn NorthFork PP, which I have used at home with great success on deer and fox. However, they aren't intended for buffalo, and the SS bullet is what I wanted.
The NorthFork web shop status said the there were none in stock, so I sent them an email and described my predicament. A few hours later, Jörgen @North Fork Technologies called me up, and we had a nice long chat on bullets, Africa and buffalo. He promised to see what he could do. A day or two later I got a text from him saying that there now were a few boxes available. A few button-clicks later, and they were on their way to me.
That settled, I just confirmed that PP load I had also worked for the SS - which it should as it is the same bullet. The only difference is that the nose of the PP is pre-cut in order to open up faster. 400gn lead-tipped solid copper shank, running at 2225-2250 fps should do the trick, I figured.
Then it was just the question of packing the wife and some clothes, and head off to the airport.
Papers please!
Through the actions taken by Jennifer @TRAVEL EXPRESS , Jo at @TSALA HUNTING SAFARIS and Henry & Adel at @riflepermits.com, getting to, and into, South Africa with a rifle was a very smooth process. As soon as we were done in the SAPS office, we were off to the Toyota, and started the journey northwards. 5-6 hours later, just as the sun was setting, we entered the northern part of Kruger park for an overnight stay at the Punda Maria Rest Camp. At dawn the journey continued toward the border crossing into Mozambique at Pafuri.
Getting out of SA was a breeze, but getting into Moz proved a bit more challenging. Customs and clearing the rifles went quick, but the computer system for the immigration authorities on the Moz side was down, so after a bit of thinking they wrote a note that we should bring to the immigration people in the next town (Chicualecuale), so that our entry into Mozambique could be processed there.
Confusion starts here
Upon arrival in Chicualecuale the confusion started. It seems that some details in that handwritten note did not match our passports, and there was simultaneously "no problem" and "big problem". Heads were scratched, phone calls made, more people got involved. I had my photo taken, and fingerprints scanned, my wife did not. On the other hand, she had to fill in what seemed to be a typical immigration form, but I did not. More scratched heads, "no problem" and vacant staring into phones and computer screens.
After more than an hour they decided to just let us through with paying the normal visa-on-entry fee, and we were never really sure what the problem had been, but a guess is that someone at Pafuri had mistaken Sweden and Switzerland ("Suécia" and "Suíça", respectively - in Portugese), and thus the note and the passports did not add up. Unfortunately, we did not have much of language in common, which could probably have sorted the issue faster. At any rate, everyone was courteous and polite, and it was never hinted that the problem could be solved by a cash donation. A minor frustration at the time, but it makes for another memory.
Shaken, not stirred
Somewhat delayed we continued the drive towards camp. The roads in this very sparsely populated part of Mozambique are not very good and it was bumpy and/or slow at times. In some stretches the washboarding was quite pronounced, and whatever kidney stones I might have had were probably taken care of. Luckily, I have no fillings in my teeth, or they would probably also have gotten loose. We arrived in camp a bit after sunset, and it was thus too late to test rifle accuracy. Something to eat and then unpack and prepare for the coming day.
Moonrise over camp
Screwed
As I unpacked the rifle, I noticed that something was a bit off. The forward action screw was quite loose, and the rear one was missing altogether! It seemed like the stock had dried/shrunk a little since the last time I had the rifle taken apart, and the roads of Mozambique had done the rest. The missing screw was easily found in the gun case, and the rifle was quickly reassembled, but my confidence for the sighting in next morning was a bit dented, considering that the scope had also been subjected to the same shaking.
Next morning after a light breakfast we got in the car together with the trackers Daniel and Koos, and drove off a little bit to find a good place for a test shot. A paper target went up on a tree approximately 100 m away, and I got on the sticks. I hoped that I would at least be on paper, and touched one off. Thankfully, it landed very close to where it should - an inch high and maybe half an inch to the right. Rouan's comment was "Hah! That's even good enough for suni. Let's go!".
Everybody happy we drove off towards the far end of the property, where Rouan's son Brandon had seen a herd of buffalo the day before. Not that we were after a herd bull, but at this end there is sufficient water in form of the Runde and Savé rivers, and animals are known to come in and feed and lie down during the day.
You shall not pass!
Unfortunately, the first two days of tracking in this area didn't result in much. Most of the times the spoor led out again, across the Zimbabwe border into Gonarezhou NP, and we could of course not follow. At this time there was a full moon, and it may have affected how, and when, the animals feed and move. On a stalk on the third day - closer to camp - we got within 100 m of a group of four bulls, but the wind shifted and they were off long before any sticks were up. We returned in the afternoon, and got to within 25m of where they were bedded down, but again, a shifty wind betrayed us, and they ran off into the neighbouring property.
An old fence-post, and the road itself is actually on the Zim side
A few notes on the camp, property (and weather), and team
Running into property/national borders like this, may make it sound like the property is small, but I can assure you it is not. IIRC approx 40.000 ha is Tsala's "own" (not a 5-year concession, but a 99-year lease, as close as you can come to owning land, if I got it right), and another adjoining 20.000 ha (or if it was even more?) is accessible through agreement with that neighbour. This area is completely unfenced, and is surrounded but by the Gonarezhou NP in Zim on the NW, and the Transfrontier Greater Limpopo Conservation Area to the E, SE, S and SW. This is millions of acres with no fences, and very few people live here.
However, the lack of rain during the last season had dried out many of the pans a lot earlier than expected, so it was believed that the S and SE parts did not currently hold much game. We thus concentrated on those areas that held, or had access to water nearby, which happened to be closer to the NW, N and NE edges. I believe that that there are currently bore holes/pumps for two of the pans, and a few more are planned for the coming season. To me, this does not detract from the "wildness", "remoteness" or "untouchedness" of the area.
There are two small villages along the Savé river on the NE border of the property, and we saw a few heads of cattle within a km or so from said villages, but as our camp was 35+ km away, this did not really matter. In 8 days of hunting, I only saw 4 cars - 3 of which belonged in camp - and one motorbike. The people in the last car was doing some survey work for the government. The only people we saw on the dirt roads that criss-cross the land were anti-poaching patrols, and this only happened one or two times. To say that this is a very rural area is an understatement. No cell phone coverage apart from on the N corner.
The camp itself is of the 'basic', but not ‘rough’ variety; a few tents for accommodation, each with running hot water, shower and toilet. Good beds. A common dining area and fireplace. Electricity for about an hour at dawn and dusk when the generator was running. No pool, no spa, no aircon, no TV - but since about a month, a Starlink provided wifi when the power was on. Also, a propane driven fridge/freezer ensured there was ice for the evening G&T. This was more than enough comforts for me.
The day-to-day running of the camp was mostly handled by Thomas and Orbit, who did the cleaning, laundry, most of the cooking, and always made sure there was a fire burning. Food was very good and varied, ranging from wildebeest burgers, pasta salads, lasagna, nyala stew, grilled steaks, lamb ribs and sausages. Most of the cooking took place on the fireplace.
Get behind me!
Since following tracks coming in from the Gonarezhou NP had not played out, a new tactic was employed, and that was to follow tracks from a pan quite close to camp. At first light, the trackers had found that two bulls had been drinking during the night and then moved northwards. The border was some 5 km away in that direction, so it seemed worth following. We had not gone for more than a minute or two, when we noticed a group of elephants (females and calves) that were coming in towards the water to drink. They were less than 100 m away, and downwind from us.
One could easily see the moment they caught our scent, as trunks went up, scanning for that disturbing smell of humans. We quickly continued on the track to get away from them. The elephants didn't really like what they had found, and decided to backtrack, and approach the water from another direction. Unfortunately, this led to them to almost cross paths with us, as we were moving away, and they were circling around. You know that the situation has potential to get interesting when the trackers (who were a bit in front) come running back, and the PH - rifle at the ready - tells you to "Get behind me!", while quickly moving backwards to get out of the place.
Luckily, the leading cow was satisfied with clearly showing her displeasure and stopped 40-50 meters away. We needed no further cue and got out of the way as fast and quietly as we could.
Bumpy times
We soon got on the buffalo tracks again and continued following them. After a few km we found where they had been resting. Unfortunately, on our way there we seemed to have alarmed some impala, which ran off and in turn alarmed the bulls that had bedded down, and we found that they had made for the border - and crossed it. Similar stories repeated themselves for the next day or two, and the weather turned cold, windy and the sky was overcast. At one point a small herd of buffalo was spotted from the car. It was a rather open area, and after crawling on hands and knees a bit for a closer inspection, it turned out to be just cows and calves. It may just look like sand and grass, but to my office-hardened body it felt like crawling on concrete and sandpaper, and I still have some scabs on knees and knuckles.
To break the routine, we decided to sit on a platform at a water hole for one of the lunch breaks, in case a nice warthog should decide to come drinking. Some very nice kudu and nyala were hanging around that water hole, as well as baboons, impala and the occasional duiker. No warthog boar appeared, but a nice impala ram did. It felt a bit like cheating, but we were now more than half-way through the hunt, and we all wanted some results. I bungled the first shot more than a little - probably due to me sitting in a slightly awkward position, and not holding on properly to the fore end - the shot went several inches high. But as it hit the spine, the impala was going nowhere, and a few seconds later a better aimed shot landed.
A rather ill-looking kudu calf was also dispatched. It was all alone, very small for its age, clearly unstable on its feet, and very dirty. It just stood near the water - in the midday sun - seemingly not having energy enough to drink. After an hour or so it laid down and did not get up even when I approached to within a few meters. My guess is that it would not have lived to see the next sunrise, so it felt right to put it out of its misery.
The day that followed greeted us with a grim scene when we went looking for tracks at the water hole at dawn. During the night, some hyenas had hunted down and partially eaten a good-looking kudu, which was now lying in the middle of the water.
Hunting-wise, the start of the day was equally unsuccessful as previously; busted stalks in the morning and the weather had changed and started getting warm - with promises (threats?) of temps in the high 30’s (100-ish F). We had no good tracks to return to for the afternoon, and decided to go back to the area where we started on day 1, just walking along without following a particular track seeing if we could spot something nice. Buffalo was the main target, but I had expressed an interest in eland, impala, steenbok and warthog - and in reality I was quite open to any target of opportunity.
We left the car and went for a walk a few km away from, but parallel to, the Zim border, and my wife got her first experience in driving that big a vehicle, stick shift on the 'wrong' side, on less than what could be called a road, to an agreed upon spot where we were to rejoin them. After an hour or so, when we were almost back to the road, Daniel quickly stopped and ducked down. About 200 m away was a herd of buffalo, approx 25-30 animals. We moved a little closer. At about 150 m the sticks went up, while Rouan was glassing. Cow, cow, cow, cow... The herd was moving a little closer, but still no bull in sight.. cow, cow, cow. After another minute it was determined that there were no big bulls here either. Dang. But still, first time on the sticks in 6 days. Exciting. A minute or so later, they probably sensed something and took off... we walk back to the car and get in. The sun is setting, and it is time to get back to camp, which is almost an hour’s drive away.
We had not gone for more than 30 seconds before there is an insistent tapping on the roof; Dagga boys! There were two of them and it seems like they had crossed in front of us just before we started driving. They were only a little bit away from the road and perhaps 150 m distant, but they were already on the move, travelling NW towards the border at a fast-ish walking pace. Not running, but the car had disturbed them. We jumped off and tried to get closer through a crouching zigzag run, trying to have some sort of bushes between us and them. Sadly, we did not gain anything, and temporarily lost sight of them. A minute later we could see them as they crested a low ridge some hundreds of meters away. In a "Hail Mary" attempt, we made a mad dash forward, to the side of their path, hoping to cut them off - if they would turn in our direction on the other side of the ridge.
But no, no joy this time either. Once we came to where they could have been, it was clear that they had taken another path. Return to the car in the twilight, another drive back in darkness. As Rouan pointed out, we weren’t really doing anything wrong - we were only missing that all important piece, LUCK. One does not need much of it, but we’d had none. Shifty winds, antelope spooking buffalo, cold weather, tracks going for the border without stopping etc. A dozen stalks or more had failed due to these reasons. We had been really close some times, but the bush had just been too thick to see much before they got wind of us, and bolted.
Into the furnace
Day 8 would prove to be the hottest of them all, with the temperature peaking at 40 (104F). The morning activities resulted in nothing but the crashing sound of departing buffalo. We had followed tracks from one of the pans, and an hour’s sneaking through the maze made of branches, cornflakes and sauna ended in the usual disappointment. I think that Rouan was taking these bad-luck-at-the-last-minute-moments harder than I was. Over the past few busted stalks his expression had gone from 'darn', via 'Not again!' and 'What the HELL!?' to 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!'. However, no strong words were ever spoken, and Rouan is nothing but perseverance personified. Get up and keep on going! Our time will come. It was certainly very good to have this pillar by your side, when it might be all too easy to lose faith and give up.
Even though I had planned my footwear as well as I thought possible, my feet had started to trouble me by day 4 or so. I probably have 500 days or more in the Courtneys, but it is hard to simulate the Moz temperatures in Scandinavia. This warm/wet grinding soon led to blisters starting to form. I switched back and forth between the two pairs of hunting shoes/boots I had brought, adding more socks and band-aids as needed. For the last two days I hunted with one boot of each kind. It was a bit of a pain to start walking after a break, but after a few minutes a the track that was soon reduced to a minor nusisance.
Daniel, Rouan and Koos
I can’t really recall where we spent the first part of the afternoon, but I can certify that it was hot. For the second half, we went up to where we had been strolling around the day before. It is undulating, fairly open terrain, quite easy to walk through, and one can see quite far. But after an hour or two of walking - still no game. Yet again the sun was getting closer to the horizon, and we started moving in the direction of the road, and where the car should be.
Behind the bush! Quickly now!
We only had a few hundred meters left to go, and the daylight was really fading, when Daniel suddenly stopped, crouched down and started setting up the sticks. Rouan and I immediately followed suit, and I could see movement to my left - not far away. Two dagga boys. Rouan, who had gotten a better look of the situation, pulled me up, forward and few steps to the right, to get away from the small tree I happened to be near. This also meant that the sticks were no longer an option. A whisper in my right ear: "He is behind the bush". So, I got ready and prepared for what was about to step out from behind a bush some 30 meters in front of me.
"There he is. Shoot."
Huh? I was looking at a very empty opening where no buffalo at all was standing.
"Shoot!"
It was obvious that we were not looking at the same place. A branch of the small tree I was standing next to was blocking my view to the left, so I quickly got down on one knee and panned left. And there he was. Standing dead still, quartering slightly towards us and looking our way. He had seen or heard something, but was not sure of what. Up the forward edge of the near front leg, about one third of the way up. Boom.
A second after my first shot, Rouan fired. The bull took off on a short, bucking, three-legged sprint, while we ran forward, reloading. 3 more shots were fired on the run. Apart from the initial shot, I got one in behind the shoulder as he was moving away at a 45-ish degree angle. A bit low though. Rouan had landed a shot high up, near the spine. We each missed once. But now he was down, and did not require any insurance shot.
All of the above probably took less than 20 seconds, but it felt quite a bit longer.
The first shot was most likely good enough, but we had discussed this earlier, and I had agreed that Rouan should use his judgement on whether to back me up - especially if we were near the border, or running out of daylight. And of course if he suspected that my first shot was bad, or if the buffalo took offense to the fireworks. In this case it was not only getting dark, but we were also not more than 3-400 meters from the Zimbabwe border.
The camera is lying somewhat, it was a lot darker than it seems in the picture.
As can be seen he was starting to lose his hair, and his neck is no longer as powerful as it once was. I’m no expert in judging, but to me his teeth look a bit worn down. Rouan guessed that he probably had one more winter in him but maybe not more. Age? I don’t know. 12? Perhaps he wasn't much of a fighter, as the horns were in quite good condition. The boss shows some wear, but the tips are in reasonable shape. Not that the spread is especially important to me, but a rough measurement put it between 43 and 44 inches - which I'm told is supposed to be quite good for a this wild area.
Winding down
The last day I chose to not hunt more, and my feet surely appreciated that decision, so we drove the buffalo off to the village that was to receive the meat. We also went by the village school and dropped off some supplies and toys for the children. And picked up some of the snares the anti-poaching team had collected in the last few months.
The return drive to Johannesburg was done in one stint, starting at 03.30, arriving at the City Lodge Hotel at 16.00. A good nights' rest, a little bit of shopping and off to the airport.
Conclusion
As a whole, this hunt was a bit harder in ways I hadn't expected - especially mentally. The terrain is mostly quite flat, and there are not many thorn trees/bushes to tear you or your clothes apart. Mosquitoes were totally absent during our visit, but there was an abundance of mopane flies. The most taxing thing for me was the heat, my feet and the constant busted stalks. It wears you down a bit over time. But it also makes it all the more rewarding when you actually succeed. A rough calculation is that we walked/stalked about 80 km (50 mi) in total for this buffalo. Well, we didn't stalk this particular buffalo at all, as far as I know. We just finally had that bit of luck, and when nature provides an opportunity, you'd better take it.
I don’t know what the chances of success are on this type of hunt in a wild area, but they are not 100%, and to me that is part of the charm. Rouan is a very serious hunter, and he did everything in his power to increase those chances. Even if I had gone home empty handed, I would have been almost as satisfied - and have had one more reason to come back again. It’s harder for me to judge tracking skills, but being able to sort out spoor like Daniel and Koos did, seemed like magic.
If this sounds like something that would suit you - I can really recommend it. If you would rather have a karaoke machine by the pool, and enjoy sundowners until midnight, then this is probably not for you.
After checking a few details with Rouan and other members here, I didn't think to long about it. Verified that summer vacation could be moved a little, and the dates were settled for the second half of August.
The rifle to bring was a given - my semi-custom Sako AV in 404J. Trying to pick a load was trickier. I had a good recipe for A-Frame, but as we all know, they are hard (impossible) to come by these days, and my stock was simply too low to allow for enough 'real' practice rounds. I have some TSX lying in wait, but I hadn't really worked up a load for them. Lastly, I had a few boxes of 400gn NorthFork PP, which I have used at home with great success on deer and fox. However, they aren't intended for buffalo, and the SS bullet is what I wanted.
The NorthFork web shop status said the there were none in stock, so I sent them an email and described my predicament. A few hours later, Jörgen @North Fork Technologies called me up, and we had a nice long chat on bullets, Africa and buffalo. He promised to see what he could do. A day or two later I got a text from him saying that there now were a few boxes available. A few button-clicks later, and they were on their way to me.
That settled, I just confirmed that PP load I had also worked for the SS - which it should as it is the same bullet. The only difference is that the nose of the PP is pre-cut in order to open up faster. 400gn lead-tipped solid copper shank, running at 2225-2250 fps should do the trick, I figured.
Then it was just the question of packing the wife and some clothes, and head off to the airport.
Papers please!
Through the actions taken by Jennifer @TRAVEL EXPRESS , Jo at @TSALA HUNTING SAFARIS and Henry & Adel at @riflepermits.com, getting to, and into, South Africa with a rifle was a very smooth process. As soon as we were done in the SAPS office, we were off to the Toyota, and started the journey northwards. 5-6 hours later, just as the sun was setting, we entered the northern part of Kruger park for an overnight stay at the Punda Maria Rest Camp. At dawn the journey continued toward the border crossing into Mozambique at Pafuri.
Getting out of SA was a breeze, but getting into Moz proved a bit more challenging. Customs and clearing the rifles went quick, but the computer system for the immigration authorities on the Moz side was down, so after a bit of thinking they wrote a note that we should bring to the immigration people in the next town (Chicualecuale), so that our entry into Mozambique could be processed there.
Confusion starts here
Upon arrival in Chicualecuale the confusion started. It seems that some details in that handwritten note did not match our passports, and there was simultaneously "no problem" and "big problem". Heads were scratched, phone calls made, more people got involved. I had my photo taken, and fingerprints scanned, my wife did not. On the other hand, she had to fill in what seemed to be a typical immigration form, but I did not. More scratched heads, "no problem" and vacant staring into phones and computer screens.
After more than an hour they decided to just let us through with paying the normal visa-on-entry fee, and we were never really sure what the problem had been, but a guess is that someone at Pafuri had mistaken Sweden and Switzerland ("Suécia" and "Suíça", respectively - in Portugese), and thus the note and the passports did not add up. Unfortunately, we did not have much of language in common, which could probably have sorted the issue faster. At any rate, everyone was courteous and polite, and it was never hinted that the problem could be solved by a cash donation. A minor frustration at the time, but it makes for another memory.
Shaken, not stirred
Somewhat delayed we continued the drive towards camp. The roads in this very sparsely populated part of Mozambique are not very good and it was bumpy and/or slow at times. In some stretches the washboarding was quite pronounced, and whatever kidney stones I might have had were probably taken care of. Luckily, I have no fillings in my teeth, or they would probably also have gotten loose. We arrived in camp a bit after sunset, and it was thus too late to test rifle accuracy. Something to eat and then unpack and prepare for the coming day.
Moonrise over camp
Screwed
As I unpacked the rifle, I noticed that something was a bit off. The forward action screw was quite loose, and the rear one was missing altogether! It seemed like the stock had dried/shrunk a little since the last time I had the rifle taken apart, and the roads of Mozambique had done the rest. The missing screw was easily found in the gun case, and the rifle was quickly reassembled, but my confidence for the sighting in next morning was a bit dented, considering that the scope had also been subjected to the same shaking.
Next morning after a light breakfast we got in the car together with the trackers Daniel and Koos, and drove off a little bit to find a good place for a test shot. A paper target went up on a tree approximately 100 m away, and I got on the sticks. I hoped that I would at least be on paper, and touched one off. Thankfully, it landed very close to where it should - an inch high and maybe half an inch to the right. Rouan's comment was "Hah! That's even good enough for suni. Let's go!".
Everybody happy we drove off towards the far end of the property, where Rouan's son Brandon had seen a herd of buffalo the day before. Not that we were after a herd bull, but at this end there is sufficient water in form of the Runde and Savé rivers, and animals are known to come in and feed and lie down during the day.
You shall not pass!
Unfortunately, the first two days of tracking in this area didn't result in much. Most of the times the spoor led out again, across the Zimbabwe border into Gonarezhou NP, and we could of course not follow. At this time there was a full moon, and it may have affected how, and when, the animals feed and move. On a stalk on the third day - closer to camp - we got within 100 m of a group of four bulls, but the wind shifted and they were off long before any sticks were up. We returned in the afternoon, and got to within 25m of where they were bedded down, but again, a shifty wind betrayed us, and they ran off into the neighbouring property.
An old fence-post, and the road itself is actually on the Zim side
A few notes on the camp, property (and weather), and team
Running into property/national borders like this, may make it sound like the property is small, but I can assure you it is not. IIRC approx 40.000 ha is Tsala's "own" (not a 5-year concession, but a 99-year lease, as close as you can come to owning land, if I got it right), and another adjoining 20.000 ha (or if it was even more?) is accessible through agreement with that neighbour. This area is completely unfenced, and is surrounded but by the Gonarezhou NP in Zim on the NW, and the Transfrontier Greater Limpopo Conservation Area to the E, SE, S and SW. This is millions of acres with no fences, and very few people live here.
However, the lack of rain during the last season had dried out many of the pans a lot earlier than expected, so it was believed that the S and SE parts did not currently hold much game. We thus concentrated on those areas that held, or had access to water nearby, which happened to be closer to the NW, N and NE edges. I believe that that there are currently bore holes/pumps for two of the pans, and a few more are planned for the coming season. To me, this does not detract from the "wildness", "remoteness" or "untouchedness" of the area.
There are two small villages along the Savé river on the NE border of the property, and we saw a few heads of cattle within a km or so from said villages, but as our camp was 35+ km away, this did not really matter. In 8 days of hunting, I only saw 4 cars - 3 of which belonged in camp - and one motorbike. The people in the last car was doing some survey work for the government. The only people we saw on the dirt roads that criss-cross the land were anti-poaching patrols, and this only happened one or two times. To say that this is a very rural area is an understatement. No cell phone coverage apart from on the N corner.
The camp itself is of the 'basic', but not ‘rough’ variety; a few tents for accommodation, each with running hot water, shower and toilet. Good beds. A common dining area and fireplace. Electricity for about an hour at dawn and dusk when the generator was running. No pool, no spa, no aircon, no TV - but since about a month, a Starlink provided wifi when the power was on. Also, a propane driven fridge/freezer ensured there was ice for the evening G&T. This was more than enough comforts for me.
The day-to-day running of the camp was mostly handled by Thomas and Orbit, who did the cleaning, laundry, most of the cooking, and always made sure there was a fire burning. Food was very good and varied, ranging from wildebeest burgers, pasta salads, lasagna, nyala stew, grilled steaks, lamb ribs and sausages. Most of the cooking took place on the fireplace.
Get behind me!
Since following tracks coming in from the Gonarezhou NP had not played out, a new tactic was employed, and that was to follow tracks from a pan quite close to camp. At first light, the trackers had found that two bulls had been drinking during the night and then moved northwards. The border was some 5 km away in that direction, so it seemed worth following. We had not gone for more than a minute or two, when we noticed a group of elephants (females and calves) that were coming in towards the water to drink. They were less than 100 m away, and downwind from us.
One could easily see the moment they caught our scent, as trunks went up, scanning for that disturbing smell of humans. We quickly continued on the track to get away from them. The elephants didn't really like what they had found, and decided to backtrack, and approach the water from another direction. Unfortunately, this led to them to almost cross paths with us, as we were moving away, and they were circling around. You know that the situation has potential to get interesting when the trackers (who were a bit in front) come running back, and the PH - rifle at the ready - tells you to "Get behind me!", while quickly moving backwards to get out of the place.
Luckily, the leading cow was satisfied with clearly showing her displeasure and stopped 40-50 meters away. We needed no further cue and got out of the way as fast and quietly as we could.
Bumpy times
We soon got on the buffalo tracks again and continued following them. After a few km we found where they had been resting. Unfortunately, on our way there we seemed to have alarmed some impala, which ran off and in turn alarmed the bulls that had bedded down, and we found that they had made for the border - and crossed it. Similar stories repeated themselves for the next day or two, and the weather turned cold, windy and the sky was overcast. At one point a small herd of buffalo was spotted from the car. It was a rather open area, and after crawling on hands and knees a bit for a closer inspection, it turned out to be just cows and calves. It may just look like sand and grass, but to my office-hardened body it felt like crawling on concrete and sandpaper, and I still have some scabs on knees and knuckles.
To break the routine, we decided to sit on a platform at a water hole for one of the lunch breaks, in case a nice warthog should decide to come drinking. Some very nice kudu and nyala were hanging around that water hole, as well as baboons, impala and the occasional duiker. No warthog boar appeared, but a nice impala ram did. It felt a bit like cheating, but we were now more than half-way through the hunt, and we all wanted some results. I bungled the first shot more than a little - probably due to me sitting in a slightly awkward position, and not holding on properly to the fore end - the shot went several inches high. But as it hit the spine, the impala was going nowhere, and a few seconds later a better aimed shot landed.
A rather ill-looking kudu calf was also dispatched. It was all alone, very small for its age, clearly unstable on its feet, and very dirty. It just stood near the water - in the midday sun - seemingly not having energy enough to drink. After an hour or so it laid down and did not get up even when I approached to within a few meters. My guess is that it would not have lived to see the next sunrise, so it felt right to put it out of its misery.
The day that followed greeted us with a grim scene when we went looking for tracks at the water hole at dawn. During the night, some hyenas had hunted down and partially eaten a good-looking kudu, which was now lying in the middle of the water.
Hunting-wise, the start of the day was equally unsuccessful as previously; busted stalks in the morning and the weather had changed and started getting warm - with promises (threats?) of temps in the high 30’s (100-ish F). We had no good tracks to return to for the afternoon, and decided to go back to the area where we started on day 1, just walking along without following a particular track seeing if we could spot something nice. Buffalo was the main target, but I had expressed an interest in eland, impala, steenbok and warthog - and in reality I was quite open to any target of opportunity.
We left the car and went for a walk a few km away from, but parallel to, the Zim border, and my wife got her first experience in driving that big a vehicle, stick shift on the 'wrong' side, on less than what could be called a road, to an agreed upon spot where we were to rejoin them. After an hour or so, when we were almost back to the road, Daniel quickly stopped and ducked down. About 200 m away was a herd of buffalo, approx 25-30 animals. We moved a little closer. At about 150 m the sticks went up, while Rouan was glassing. Cow, cow, cow, cow... The herd was moving a little closer, but still no bull in sight.. cow, cow, cow. After another minute it was determined that there were no big bulls here either. Dang. But still, first time on the sticks in 6 days. Exciting. A minute or so later, they probably sensed something and took off... we walk back to the car and get in. The sun is setting, and it is time to get back to camp, which is almost an hour’s drive away.
We had not gone for more than 30 seconds before there is an insistent tapping on the roof; Dagga boys! There were two of them and it seems like they had crossed in front of us just before we started driving. They were only a little bit away from the road and perhaps 150 m distant, but they were already on the move, travelling NW towards the border at a fast-ish walking pace. Not running, but the car had disturbed them. We jumped off and tried to get closer through a crouching zigzag run, trying to have some sort of bushes between us and them. Sadly, we did not gain anything, and temporarily lost sight of them. A minute later we could see them as they crested a low ridge some hundreds of meters away. In a "Hail Mary" attempt, we made a mad dash forward, to the side of their path, hoping to cut them off - if they would turn in our direction on the other side of the ridge.
But no, no joy this time either. Once we came to where they could have been, it was clear that they had taken another path. Return to the car in the twilight, another drive back in darkness. As Rouan pointed out, we weren’t really doing anything wrong - we were only missing that all important piece, LUCK. One does not need much of it, but we’d had none. Shifty winds, antelope spooking buffalo, cold weather, tracks going for the border without stopping etc. A dozen stalks or more had failed due to these reasons. We had been really close some times, but the bush had just been too thick to see much before they got wind of us, and bolted.
Into the furnace
Day 8 would prove to be the hottest of them all, with the temperature peaking at 40 (104F). The morning activities resulted in nothing but the crashing sound of departing buffalo. We had followed tracks from one of the pans, and an hour’s sneaking through the maze made of branches, cornflakes and sauna ended in the usual disappointment. I think that Rouan was taking these bad-luck-at-the-last-minute-moments harder than I was. Over the past few busted stalks his expression had gone from 'darn', via 'Not again!' and 'What the HELL!?' to 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!'. However, no strong words were ever spoken, and Rouan is nothing but perseverance personified. Get up and keep on going! Our time will come. It was certainly very good to have this pillar by your side, when it might be all too easy to lose faith and give up.
Even though I had planned my footwear as well as I thought possible, my feet had started to trouble me by day 4 or so. I probably have 500 days or more in the Courtneys, but it is hard to simulate the Moz temperatures in Scandinavia. This warm/wet grinding soon led to blisters starting to form. I switched back and forth between the two pairs of hunting shoes/boots I had brought, adding more socks and band-aids as needed. For the last two days I hunted with one boot of each kind. It was a bit of a pain to start walking after a break, but after a few minutes a the track that was soon reduced to a minor nusisance.
Daniel, Rouan and Koos
I can’t really recall where we spent the first part of the afternoon, but I can certify that it was hot. For the second half, we went up to where we had been strolling around the day before. It is undulating, fairly open terrain, quite easy to walk through, and one can see quite far. But after an hour or two of walking - still no game. Yet again the sun was getting closer to the horizon, and we started moving in the direction of the road, and where the car should be.
Behind the bush! Quickly now!
We only had a few hundred meters left to go, and the daylight was really fading, when Daniel suddenly stopped, crouched down and started setting up the sticks. Rouan and I immediately followed suit, and I could see movement to my left - not far away. Two dagga boys. Rouan, who had gotten a better look of the situation, pulled me up, forward and few steps to the right, to get away from the small tree I happened to be near. This also meant that the sticks were no longer an option. A whisper in my right ear: "He is behind the bush". So, I got ready and prepared for what was about to step out from behind a bush some 30 meters in front of me.
"There he is. Shoot."
Huh? I was looking at a very empty opening where no buffalo at all was standing.
"Shoot!"
It was obvious that we were not looking at the same place. A branch of the small tree I was standing next to was blocking my view to the left, so I quickly got down on one knee and panned left. And there he was. Standing dead still, quartering slightly towards us and looking our way. He had seen or heard something, but was not sure of what. Up the forward edge of the near front leg, about one third of the way up. Boom.
A second after my first shot, Rouan fired. The bull took off on a short, bucking, three-legged sprint, while we ran forward, reloading. 3 more shots were fired on the run. Apart from the initial shot, I got one in behind the shoulder as he was moving away at a 45-ish degree angle. A bit low though. Rouan had landed a shot high up, near the spine. We each missed once. But now he was down, and did not require any insurance shot.
All of the above probably took less than 20 seconds, but it felt quite a bit longer.
The first shot was most likely good enough, but we had discussed this earlier, and I had agreed that Rouan should use his judgement on whether to back me up - especially if we were near the border, or running out of daylight. And of course if he suspected that my first shot was bad, or if the buffalo took offense to the fireworks. In this case it was not only getting dark, but we were also not more than 3-400 meters from the Zimbabwe border.
The camera is lying somewhat, it was a lot darker than it seems in the picture.
As can be seen he was starting to lose his hair, and his neck is no longer as powerful as it once was. I’m no expert in judging, but to me his teeth look a bit worn down. Rouan guessed that he probably had one more winter in him but maybe not more. Age? I don’t know. 12? Perhaps he wasn't much of a fighter, as the horns were in quite good condition. The boss shows some wear, but the tips are in reasonable shape. Not that the spread is especially important to me, but a rough measurement put it between 43 and 44 inches - which I'm told is supposed to be quite good for a this wild area.
Winding down
The last day I chose to not hunt more, and my feet surely appreciated that decision, so we drove the buffalo off to the village that was to receive the meat. We also went by the village school and dropped off some supplies and toys for the children. And picked up some of the snares the anti-poaching team had collected in the last few months.
The return drive to Johannesburg was done in one stint, starting at 03.30, arriving at the City Lodge Hotel at 16.00. A good nights' rest, a little bit of shopping and off to the airport.
Conclusion
As a whole, this hunt was a bit harder in ways I hadn't expected - especially mentally. The terrain is mostly quite flat, and there are not many thorn trees/bushes to tear you or your clothes apart. Mosquitoes were totally absent during our visit, but there was an abundance of mopane flies. The most taxing thing for me was the heat, my feet and the constant busted stalks. It wears you down a bit over time. But it also makes it all the more rewarding when you actually succeed. A rough calculation is that we walked/stalked about 80 km (50 mi) in total for this buffalo. Well, we didn't stalk this particular buffalo at all, as far as I know. We just finally had that bit of luck, and when nature provides an opportunity, you'd better take it.
I don’t know what the chances of success are on this type of hunt in a wild area, but they are not 100%, and to me that is part of the charm. Rouan is a very serious hunter, and he did everything in his power to increase those chances. Even if I had gone home empty handed, I would have been almost as satisfied - and have had one more reason to come back again. It’s harder for me to judge tracking skills, but being able to sort out spoor like Daniel and Koos did, seemed like magic.
If this sounds like something that would suit you - I can really recommend it. If you would rather have a karaoke machine by the pool, and enjoy sundowners until midnight, then this is probably not for you.
