NAMIBIA: KHOMAS HIGHLAND HUNTING SAFARIS

[gizmo]

Erik, funny you mention touching the animal and the transfer of his soul. I grew up in Nicaragua, and that is where I started hunting. The villagers are usually very superstitious, and the main farmhand in our farm was very, and I mean very superstitious. There were some places in the property he wouldn't go, because he said they were haunted. Well, when I shot my first deer, he told me to always pay respect to the animal taken, to say a prayer thanking the animal for giving his life, and to touch him first by his heart, and his spirit would transfer into you. Funny how believes like this one are so similar from two completely different countries. Sorry, didn't mean to derail your post. Press on.

Oh I am very glad you shared. You are correct it is interesting how we share similar traditions. You are not derailing my post at all and I'm very interest to learn of your culture. I enjoy learning and taking part in traditions of cultures I visit. I try to make a point to do this everywhere I go.

 

[gizmo]

The next morning we we up bright and early. I was still on a high from the previous day. I think Philip understood the importance of the whole wildebeest obsession I have and it was clear what we had planned for the day. Black Wildebeest.
This is the one animal that was #1 on my list and I was very much looking forward to the hunt. We set out to the area where we had seen the black wildebeest before. Philip and I chatted , or more like I talked Philips ear off and he was kind enough not to strangle me.
We arrived in the area we had seen wildebeest. A stalk was in order so we grabbed our gear and set off. We slowly made our way looking for wildebeest. The thing about this hunt that I loved so much was the stalking. Though I'm a bit fat and crippled up these days I truly enjoy being out and hunting on foot. I lost track of how far we went before we found the wildebeest. Hendrick again at the lead with his sharp eyes spotted them. We eased in and were somewhere around 280 yards or so. It seemed as if to it was meant to be, there stood a magnificent black wildebeest bull right in front of us broadside at about 280 yards or so. I zoomed in on my scope and started to pick my shot. He was standing perfectly for a high shoulder shot. I figured that to put him down right there would work well. We were slightly above them and the crosshairs settled in nicely. I squeezed the trigger and at the shot he fell like a sack of potatoes. The rest of the wildebeest exploded and ran in every direction. I reloaded rather lazily, confident in my shot. To my amazement he was back on his feet and stumbling around. I went to get back on him and lost him in the midst of wildebeest running everywhere. I lost sight of him.
We gave it moment and moved forward to recover him. I have a bit of experience with African animals and know how tough they are. I still felt that he couldn't have gone far.

 

[gizmo]

We get to the spot where he had originally fell. I figured he had maybe gotten up and ran a few yards before he fell again. Well I was wrong. He was no where to be found. It wasn't long before Hendrick was on the track and off we set. The blood trail was really good so I felt pretty confident at first. I thought surely he couldn't have gone far but as the feet turned to yards and yards turned to miles it was pretty obvious all was not well.
Hendrick stayed on the track and was able to keep on him even when the blood stopped. How in the hell he could figure out where he went over rocks with no tracks or blood I have no idea. I've been amazed at the trackers abilities before but the skill of Hendrick beat everything I've ever seen. He is without a doubt the most talented tracker and hunter I've ever had the honor to share the field with. I got to know him pretty well during our time there and will speak more in the future but I feel it necessary to try and articulate just how good he is.
The wildebeest had rejoined the herd and they were in high gear. I was pretty nervous at this point and I certainly didn't want the animal suffering needlessly and or to loose him. We stayed on it for many foot sore miles until finally Hendrick locks up the breaks. There they were and my bulls was undoubtedly with them. He stood there around 300 yards again pouring blood out of above his shoulder. I had manage to hit just on the very top of the shoulder but just beneath the spine. The impact of the 180 grain Barnes TTSX must have stunned him causing him to fall but he was able to get up and shake it off. There he stood broadside again milling about as if nothing was wrong despite blood pouring out of the wound. The toughness of African game never ceases to amaze me.
This time I'm not messing about, I get on the sticks and settle in for a heart and lung shot. As the trigger breaks I hear the un-mistakable sound of a bullet strike and he falls dead as a hammer right in his tracks. I reload just in case he gets back up but we was done. The herd vacates the area in a big hurry again and we go up to recover him. Every emotion in the world hit me all at once. I was angry with myself over the first shot, excited, relieved, saddened, exhausted, and happy all at once. That my friends was a hellava hunt and extremely intense. After I was able to touch him we discussed the entire event and Vincent really got a good feel for the range of emotions that can be involved in a hunt.
Philip called for the Bakkie and I visited with everyone in between taking time to admire and spend time with my black wildebeest. I now had both wildebeest down and am 3/5ths of the way to accomplishing a major goal.
I couldnt have scripted a better hunt with all the ups and downs. My dream of hunting a legit free range black wildebeest was accomplished and I will forever be thankful to Philip for giving me that opportunity. As a matter of fact it certainly wouldnt be the last time I was able to accomplish bucket list moments thanks to Philip and his amazing slice of heaven.

 

[VertigoBE]

You are a truly passionate hunter @gizmo and a gifted writer. I’m hanging on every word. Hopefully there is still much more to come!
V.

 

[gizmo]

You are a truly passionate hunter @gizmo and a gifted writer. I’m hanging on every word. Hopefully there is still much more to come!
V.

Thank you. There is still much more to come. I am just taking a break. My eyes are crossed from staring at a computer screen. There is still 8 days and many more adventures to come.

 

[PARA45]

Yeah baby, yeah, there is more to come!!!!!

 

[Randy F]

Great report! Well written and fun too. Will be watching for more.

 

[Ravensview]

Sounds like an awesome adventure, I am enjoying it, thanks for sharing it with us, I too am enjoying your writing style.

 

[gizmo]

With the Black Wildebeest in tow we make our way back to the lodge. It's all smiles and spirits are high. We have a nice lunch and take a nap before its time to head out for Hartman's zebra.
At this point we will change the format a bit and focus on the hunts for each animal as opposed to what day of the trip we're on.

Hartman's Zebra
So these zebra are native only to Namibia and we just happened to be smack dab in the middle of their home range, the Khomas Highlands. Now these mountains go from sea level up to 6500 ft. From a distance, i.e. the lodge, they don't look that formidable. Once you get to them however, the reality is they are a beautiful bitch. Steep and rocky, they will humble you in a hurry. The Hartman's live in the things and use the mountains to their advantage. From my understanding they do not come out of the mountains and spend their entire lives there.
Now going into this trip I knew I wasn't as prepared as I should be. Running two businesses and the 27 million other things I had to do leading up to this hunt combined with some medical issues I've been struggling with made it very difficult for me to physically prepare for the hunt and to shoot as much as I should. I can make a billion excuses why but the truth is I simply wasn't ready and I knew it. I would have to rely on shear grit and experience to have a shot at the rest of the animals on my list.
While there are certainly trails up into the mountains one can get the bakkie down, the vast majority is inaccessible by road. I told Philip to bear with me and that I would do anything it took to make it happen but to be patient as there were going to be times I would fall behind but that I would make it or die trying.
The first afternoon wasn't too bad. We stuck to the roads for the most part and just glassed from vantage points. We ran into zebra relatively quickly but before we could do anything they were over the mountain and gone. I think Philip knew I was pretty worn out from the wildebeest hunt that morning so we circled behind the mountain the zebra fled behind and tried to catch up and head them off with the bakkie. It worked and to my amazement they came out right underneath us. I had a brief opportunity for a shot. It had to be quick and there would be no time to get out and set up the sticks. A nice stallion stops and looks at us standing broadside at about 250 yards. I sprawl out of the dash and take a shot. As soon as I shoot I knew I pulled it as I was anything but steady. I shoot right over his back and they collectively haul ass down to the bottom and up the other side. Now they are way out there and I again try and take a shot and naturally miss again. The first miss rattled me and I was more concerned with the fat that I missed than I was trying to get set up properly for the next shot. I let myself take a shot from the same unsteady position and allowed my mechanics to go to crap. This naturally assures a miss. They run off laughing and I'm boiling mad now.
I have spent my son's entire life telling him with his shooting that once a round is gone you cant take it back. If you miss focus on the next shot and make it count, don't worry about the last one as there is nothing you can do about it. All you can do is shake it off and focus on the next shot. (For those who don't know my son is a competitive shooter, a quite good one, and he starts shooting for the Texas Tech shooting Team in August) I happened to do the exact opposite and allow it to bother me and boy did it. As we look for more zebra we ran into a nice kudu bull. He's facing us a bit over 200 yards up hill. An easy enough shot........ Right as I go to break the trigger he spins to run and I shoot right over him. I, at this point, am mentally done. 3 misses in the course of a few hours all on shots I am more than capable and should have made. I'm pissed and mercifully it is starting to get dark.
On our way back we catch a jackal in the head lights (I'd already killed two or so at this point) I shoot at him and clip his back end. No doubt it did the job as I was way over gunned for a jackal but non the less another terrible shot. I unload my rifle and put it down. I'm done and thankfully it is dark.
This is a great example of getting into your own head and allowing a simple miss to completely dictate a series of poor decision making and terrible shooting. I tell Philip I want to go to the range in the morning and shoot a few rounds to get my shit together and my confidence back.

 

[Randy F]

We’ve all been there. That’s hunting buddy.

 

[gizmo]

We get distracted by another kudu for most of another day before we get back to zebra which I will get to next. I eventually get another crack at zebra one morning. Oddly enough they were standing in the same place we first saw them. Its a long up hill shot which I again made a terrible terrible display of marksmanship. This lead to trying to get on them all morning. This stalk covered 15 Km according to the step counter on Mel's phone. Not sure how many miles that is but I can tell you it involves summiting several mountains. By 1 or 2 when we got back I have never been so tired in my life. I was pretty proud of my effort though. I finished it out and sort of kept up with some folks half my age and in much better shape than I was in. This has been the only time I have to say that my Courtney boots have let me down. I was blistered all to hell by the time it was over and walking even on flat ground was pretty painful. We continued on with no luck on zebra for another day I think.
I again found myself up in the mountains on a long stalk after zebra. By now I'm fully convinced that I have some voodoo curse on me with Hartman's. I keep my eye on the prize mile after mile and focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. Once at the top of one mountain I tell myself they are just on the other side of the next. Eventually this was true. We had spotted a herd but the wind was terrible and we were in the open. We made a long stalk around the mountain to get the wind right and eventually end up in a perfect spot just across a bowl up on the top about 150 or 200 yards away. After some careful moves and a lot of conversation a zebra is picked and I'm on the sticks. This time I focus on what I need to do and settle the cross hairs on the zebra's neck. I touch the trigger off and the zebra collapses in its tracks. It never so much as kicks. It is stone dead. The rest flee and there is one hellava celebration back on our end of the bowl. I grabbed Hendrick and gave him a huge hug. Philip made a comment that I looked happy enough to kiss him (meaning Hendrick), well hell I'm secure in my manhood and I laid a big old smacker on his cheek. I didn't know a black man could blush but I'm here to tell you he turned as red as an apple. I told him not to fall in love as I was already happily married and I gave him shit for the rest of the trip over how soft his cheeks were. Everyone got a ton of mileage out of it.
Now the issue was getting to the zebra, line of sight it wasn't very far away say, if you were a bird. For us however it required going 1/4 of the way straight down a mountain then back up the other side. It was steep and rocky the whole way. I got part way to the bottom and slipped. Oh boy, this is going to hurt I thought. My main concern if I survived the fall was not breaking my rifle. I was fortunate that my head and face broke the fall and I then sort of tumbled the rest of the way. When I finally stopped I had the rifle safely up in the air undamaged. I wondered if I was dead but then figured I was in entirely too much pain to be dead. I laid there for a minute trying to figure out if I anything was broke. As I laid there I assumed everyone had heard the sound of a short fat guy tumbling down the mountain while shouting profanities. I was wrong, I could see up above me and they are still trudging along on the way to the downed zebra oblivious to my predicament.
I slowly got up and stumbled about for a bit. Well there was not to do but start climbing so I did. It took me a while but I eventually made it up the other side to where everyone was and where my zebra lay. I cant remember if it was Mel or Vincent that asked where I had been and why I looked like shit. I explained incident and everyone kinda stood there shocked. They were concerned if I was ok, which aside from a pretty good knock on the head, I was. I was covered in thorns but no worse for the wear. We all got a pretty good laugh out of it and I was able to put my hands on the hardest won trophy I've ever gone after. It was a heckava moment. We took pictures and then discussed how the hell we were going to get it out of there. Never in a million years could I have imagined that anyone could get a cruiser to it. There is zero access and the closest road was a long ways away. I figured we would be skinning it there and be hauling it out in pieces. I was trying to prepare myself for this and it was getting late in the evening. I was spent, I had no gas left in the tank so to speak but I was more than willing to give everything I could to get the rest of the job done. This was to be for another full body mount and a very important one at that. I put my gear down and tried to rest a bit while Philip and Hendrick discussed our situation.
To my amazement they decided they wanted to try and get the bakkie to it. I thought there is no way on God's earth they could get the little Land Cruiser up there. I was grossly mistaken. What I saw that afternoon was some of the best off road driving I've ever seen in my life. I'll be damned if they didn't get the bakkie up there, but loaded the zebra and hauled all of us out! There were a few times it was a bit of an ass puckering experience but by golly Philip and the guys got it done. That my friends was one impressive feat and had we been betting on it I'd lost everything.
Hartman's zebra was the most tough hunt I've ever done. A combination of the circumstances, not being in good enough shape, and some health issues that are out of my control made for an extremely difficult hunt for me and by God I earned that zebra.
Looking back now I am amazed I managed to pull it off. I probably shouldn't have done what I did in a health since and I'm certainly paying for it now but I did it and I am damn proud of my accomplishment.

 

[gizmo]

Kudu
As I mentioned before I whiffed a kudu bull earlier. I really feel everything happens for a reason. We get up one morning and head to what Philip calls the "honey pot". Its a valley with no vehicle access on the other side of and over the top of a mountain. Its quite the climb getting up there but the view is wonderful and its a great place for critters to hide. We made the top of the mountain by about 9 am. It took probably an hour or hour and a half of hiking and climbing to get there. We no more summitted and Philip sees something. There happened to be a really big flat table rock on the top and I asked if I could climb up on it so I could prone out. I managed to climb up on top without spooking everything and laid down getting comfortable on my rifle.
Philip was trying to point out where the kudu were and it took me a minute to find them in my binos. There stood a pretty little young bull looking at us and trying to decide what we were. We were on the opposing mountain and in a great spot. He could no doubt see the movement but had no idea what we were. He relaxed and went back to milling about. Another kudu bull was behind a bunch of brush tand we couldn't see what he was. We watched for what felt like forever and we finally got a decent look at him. He's a magnificent old bull sporting 52 or 53 inch head gear. Oh boy!
Philip and I talked him over, my only concern was whether he was a mature bull as inches have never really mattered much to me. I told him at the start of the hunt that my deal is good mature representative animals. Huge inches is an added bonus but I've always felt that the trophy lies in maturity. He assured me that he was a mature bull and would go 2 or 3 inches over 50. I was happy. As soon as he green lighted me I settled into the gun and got on him. Prone is without a doubt my best shooting position and I feel confident out to the absolute limits of my shooting ability in that position. I don't know how far he was, it wasn't too terribly far but everything looks a long ways when you are shooting cross canyon so to speak.
I was settled in and rock solid, he was standing behind a bush with his head poking out, all I needed was him to take about 2 or 3 steps and he was toast. I think someone moved which spooked the younger bull who scampered forward a bit. Perfect! this brought my bull out from behind the brush and I broke the shot. I heard the meat pop as the bullet slammed into him. He jumped, bolted two steps, and face planted it down the side of the mountain. I knew he was dead, I could see the grass painted in red where he fell and I lost sight of him.
From here all there was to do was figure out how to get down to him. We climbed down and around where we found him laying in the grass just underneath where I had shot him. It was a perfect heart lung shot and he was dead before he hit the ground! It was also a much needed confidence booster.
I was elated! I finally had a kudu.
Funny how things always work out, I am so glad I missed the first one as my kudu was a fantastic and dramatic experience. We ended up seeing a no shit 60 plus inch kudu a few days later that stood at 100 yards from us for probably 15 minutes. He was the most magnificent animal I've ever seen in the wild. That being said I wouldn't trade my kudu for him for anything. Maybe I'll run into the big boy or a relative of his one day but my kudu will always be my favorite.

 

[gizmo]

 

[Trogon]

Eric, I am enjoying your story, thank you for posting. You've got some beautiful animals!
You had a great trip! Congrats!

 

[gizmo]

Steinbok
By now I had Gemsbok, Hartebeest, Steinbok, and Warthog left to round out my big game portion of the hunt. I was a hurting unit also and needed a break from the mountains. My feet were covered in blisters and not an inch of my body didn't hurt. A hunt in the lowlands for the opportunity at most likely a Steinbok or Warthog was in order. There was also the possibility of running into the other two but the little guy and warthog were the most likely. Steinbok appear to me one of those things you really cant go out and stalk for here. They are tiny and the grass is often taller than they are so really it seemed the best bet was to drive the roads and look for one. If you find one figure out if its a male and if your really lucky he'll stick around long enough to try and get a shot.
I've never really been a Tiny 10 guy but it was part of my package so I figured I'd give it a whirl, plus I was in no shape to head up to the mountains again right away. What I didn't expect was how much fun I was to have chasing these little buggers around. I had an absolute ball. I have nothing really to compare it to but it is super exciting and you get to cover a lot of country looking for one which I enjoy. Eventually we stumbled onto a male and he stood still long enough to get a good look at him. He was huge, well by Steinbok standards, and at this point I absolutely had to have one. He stood about 100 yards out looking at us. All I could see of him sticking out of the grass was his head but it appeared he was facing us straight on. I was green lighted and I held the cross hairs down into the grass about where I thought his chest would be and touched off the trigger. The bullet absolutely body slammed him. I had no idea where I hit him but it appeared to be pretty effective until he got back up. I was pretty shocked as it seemed I had vaporized him. He stumbled over to an open spot where I could see him and he laid down. Well that's weird I thought but it looks like he done now. Nope, he gets back up and walks over to a bush and stands behind it. I can sort of tell where he is so I send another round down range and he disappears. We go over to where he was and find him, well whats left of him anyway laying on the ground. My first bullet tore down his right side and opened him like a zipper. My second one hit him at the base of the shoulder and neck and absolutely blew a massive hole through him. It was a bit gory but effective.
As far as a mount was concerned he was toast. I first thought well I can just euro him as anything else was out of the question but then I remembered my good buddy @BWH shot one for me in Limpopo a couple years ago and I have a full body cape in the freezer at the office! Problem solved!
We scooped what was left of him up and found a rock to prop his head on as well as to hide the soupy mess behind it for a trophy pick. I think I will be excited to hunt some of the little guys in the future but I think I will either borrow or bring a more appropriate rifle for them in the future. I'll give a gear segment at the end but suffice to say I was way over gunned for the little fellas.

 

[gizmo]

Eric, I am enjoying your story, thank you for posting. You've got some beautiful animals!
You had a great trip! Congrats!

Thank you, it was an amazing trip and I am glad you are enjoying me telling the story. We've got a lot more to come!

 

[jacques smith]

Nicely done my friend, I’m enjoying your hunt report. Jacques

 

[gizmo]

Jackal
I'll throw this in about here in the story. So jackal were one of those things I wanted just to have and we never really spent time looking for them per-say. That being said I definitely wanted one if the opportunity arose plus its a good thing to knock predators down. I shot several of them, and scared the shit out of several more, throughout the hunt and kept the one with the least amount of damage to bring home to mount. Hell it would be a hoot just to spend a week hunting jackals. I think my name was securely etched into jackal lore by the end and the survivors will be telling stories of the Texas Devil for generations to come.

 

[gizmo]

 

[gizmo]

Gemsbok, I mean Warthog
So while in the low lands mainly looking for warthog and steinbok there was the off chance we'd run into a gemsbok. This also happened to be in the middle of when I had my melt down and couldn't hit my ass with both hands with my rifle. I had gone back to the range and shot a few rounds to get my shit together which helped a bit but I am still thoroughly pissed off over some missed shots. Putting pretty little holes in nice groupings in the bullseye helps a bit but after a lifetime of shooting, static shots like this do little but to confirm the fact that I pulled some shots. In another way this tended to make me more mad at myself but at least confirmed what I already new, there wasn't a damn thing wrong with my rifle and it was all in my head.
Well in the midst of the warthog little guy search we stumble onto a great gemsbok bull with a bum leg. He was a nice mature bull and definitely needed to be put down. I've got a chip shot at him, throw up my rifle and take the shot. I actually felt very confident in it and as he was so close it wasn't unusual to not hear the bullet whop. He takes off like a bat out of hell and I figured he was heart shot with the way he bolted. He takes off into the thick stuff and we head over to find the blood. Well....... there was none. Odd I thought but having killed gemsbok before and guided a billion scimitar hunts not wholly unusual. I figure we'll pick up some blood in a few yards and find him. Nope....... Nothing. I'm standing there trying to figure out what happened and Philip and Hendrick start pulling me up the hill where low and behold an unshot gemsbok bull with a bum leg is standing looking back at us. Well hell, I get on the sticks and shoot again. Same thing shot feels good but off the bull goes like a rocket. Again no blood. I'm having a serious WTF moment .
As we search in vain it soon becomes evident that I completely whiffed him twice in a row at damn near stone throwing distance.
Well I'm pissed and thoroughly embarrassed now. I apologize to Philip, Hendrick, Mel, and Vincent the whole way back to the bakkie. Even sitting here now and the 10 million times I've replayed the shots in my mind I have no clue what the hell happened. Both shots felt great. Its like I was shooting blanks, I certainly wasn't but best I can figure is I shot over him both times. IDK, it was embarrassing as hell though.
We make it to the cruiser and I'm boiling mad at myself. We loop around in a wing and a prayer that we might find him again in the fading light of the evening. As we drive into the creek bottom Philip slams on the breaks. I'm assuming he sees the gemsbok and I'm out of the bakkie before it stops. I see nothing..... Philip says warthog in the creek! I look down and sure enough there are two warthog. He says take him and I have no idea which one. I ask and he clarifies. Bam! the warthog roles and gets back up struggling to make it out of the creek. I hear Charlie say he's down.
I was still in the middle of a bit of a temper tantrum over the gemsbok. I jack the spent brass out and chunk it into the bakkie.
I go off to the side and take my own path to the warthog to register what all happened and get my act together. I meet up with everyone and there lies a great male warthog. All of the emotion from earlier is gone and I am elated to see a fantastic pumba laying in the grass.
In that moment whatever it was that had me buggered up went away and I was good for the rest of the trip. I shot well for the remainder of our time and whatever the hell it was that was in my head only needed a warthog to fix it.
I sat there admiring a beautiful warthog during a stunning sunset and remembered why I was there. Suddenly I didn't have a care in the world as I ran my hands down his main. I giggled as I thought to myself, "just another shit day in Africa". ( note the sarcasm in the expression)