Outfitter: Johnny DuPlooy's Muchinga Adventures
Booking Agent: Adam Clement's Safari Trackers
Dates: August 22 - September 1, 2006
Area: Nyaminga GMA next to Chanjuzi GMA, across the Luangwa River from the Northern Luangwa National Park, approximates 2000 square kilometers in size
Conditions: Hot and dry with temperatures ranging from the mid 60's at night to the upper 90's during the day
PH: Terry Van Rooyen
Tracker: Lamek Banda
Game Scout: Donald
Rifles used: Sterling Davenport Model 70 in .375H&H shooting 300 grain Swift A-Frames (Remington Gold Box factory)
Browning A-Bolt .300 Winchester Magnum shooting 180 grain Nosler Partitions (Federal Premium factory)
Airline Carrier used: British Air arrangements made by Susan Hill, Gracy Travel

First let me comment on the travel. I was quite concerned when news of the foiled plan to hijack and destroy airliners between Britain and the U.S. hit the airwaves slightly more than a week before our trip was scheduled. Some of our hunting friends were caught up in the snarls of humanity that missed flights and were rerouted and then had to deal with increased security, no carry-ons, etc. However, by the time we flew out on Sunday, August 20th, things had calmed substantially. British Airways was absolutely superb and the crew in Houston put our minds at ease as we checked in our rifles and bags. They did weigh ammo and look at our rifles to check serial numbers but did so with effiency and courtesy. They also put a message in the computers to check with us as we boarded each leg of our flight to inform us our luggage had made the transfer, which they did. We arrived in Heathrow and on to Lusaka with out incident and I swear, in ten trips to Africa, this was the absolute BEST I have ever been treated. We flew World Traveler Plus and the increased leg room and seat width made this 6'3" gentleman very comfortable and sleep came easily.

We were met in Lusaka by Johnny's very capable and efficient wife, Laura DuPlooy and my PH Terry Van Rooyen, who whisked us through the formalities of Customs and gathered our gun paperwork for us. This rivaled Arusha, Tanzania as the easiest I have ever cleared Customs.


After a few hours at the DuPlooy's residence we were off to meet up with the charter into camp. We flew A King Air for the hour and fifteen minute flight into camp. Quite comfortable as you can see.



We arrived at the Waka Waka airstrip and Alistar Norton was there to pick us up and drive us to our camp in Nyaminga. On the way we stopped at the Chanjuzi camp and met a hunter and his son who were finishing up their 10 day buff safari and they promised us good fun and lots of buffalo! We arrived at our camp too late to shoot our rifles in so we unloaded, put our breakfast requests in and headed to our bungalows for a shower and good night's rest.

Camp was situated right on the bluff above the Luangwa river and consited of thatch chalets with full en-suite bathrooms.





The camp was adequate and comfortable and replete with lions roaring every night, hippos grunting, eles squealing, all the things you need to remind you you were in "wild" Africa.

Meals were well prepared and old Samson the cook worked hard to please! Bacon and eggs in the morning... buffalo or hippo tail soup with filet of bushbuck, buffalo, kudu or warthog was always worth the wait till supper!



The next morning we sighted in all of the rifles and everything seemed good to go. Steve's Merkel .470 got everyones attention.


The rest of the day we drove the concession along the river and looked at and made a few unsuccesful stalks on puku and bushbuck.



Day 2 had everyone up early and well-rested and on the trail for buffalo. Steve and Johnny, my hunting companions, hunted with Alistar and they left at 5:00 am for the two hour drive to Chibeza to look for a huge herd of buffalo at the edge of the concession.

Dad and I, paired with Terry, headed for the fields around Zokwe to look for buff spoor. An interesting note, Peter Capstick wrote the first chapters of "Death In the Long Grass" in the little village of Zokwe. This is the area Peter Hankin was in when he was killed by a lion in camp as detailed in the first chapter of the safari classic. Also we were in the same area where famed PH Cotton Gordon had his camp.

Anyway, around 7:00 we cut buffalo spoor winding out of a dry riverbed and into an old overgrown cotton field. Lamek, Donald and Terry bailed out on the tracks. I followed just to stretch out after the brisk ride. Not ten minutes later, Lamek has seen the herd and we race back to the Rover for rifles and kit to follow this herd and see what is there.

The buff are headed back to the long grass across the river and we plunge into the dry riverbed to catch them crossing. We find a small group fifty yards away and after looking them over realize they are just cows and calves. The bulls have already crossed the river!

We find their track and follow as quickly as we dare in the thick riverine "suicide" grass. Since it is late in the year we walk in and out of long grass and patches of burnt ground anywhere from an acre to 150 acres in size. In one of the bigger burnt patches we see the bulls moving ahead of us. We drop back into the dry riverbed and try to get ahead of them. This is tough! Every time we come out we cut spoor and the buff are still in front of us. On the fifth time, we come out and Lamek feels we are still behind but close enough to catch up and position for a shot. 100 yards further ahead, he stops us as we exit a patch of long grss and points with his chin... forty yards to my right I can see a buffalo bull behind a curtain of grass. Terry sizes him up and sets up the sticks for me... the .375 rests there and he only needs to take five steps and I will have a broadside shot at him. Then the damn wind blows across the back of my neck... I know what this means. Everything gets very still and then the bull bolts and runs pell mell headed across an opening for the long grass 100 yards away but inexplicably he pulls up and looks for his compadres. He is quartering away from me and I can hear Terry whisper "take him". The scope settles behind his last rib and I send an A-frame on it's way. The sound of a hit drifts back to us and the bulls wheels and plunges into the thick stuff.

We go through the usual... where do you think you hit him, let's have a smoke, top off the mag... shift uncomfortably time and again... ears strain for the death bellow that doesn't come. Then we smile weakly at each other and head to the last place we saw the bull standing.

Lamek picks up his tracks, even I can see where he wheeled and turned around... and shortly thereafter we find bright red blood. Scopes turned all the way down we advance. The thick grass is ten feet high and you might can see three yards ahead of you. Slowly, slowly... poli, poli as they say in Swahili. We hit an open area and immediately focus on a small stand of mopane... he has to be in there. But the tracks turn and 15 yards further he enters the long grass again. Ten yards in we come upon a medium size mopne and Lamek scales it to get a look around. I watch him scan the horizon and then look down below him. He looks back at us and smiles. "The buffalo is dead" are the sweetest words you can hear at a time like this. The bullet went in at the last rib angled through the liver and took out the lungs. The bull ran 80 yards and must have died mid stride. He was a great first bull of the trip and my first head of Zambian big game with beautiful horn configuration. A nice drop, tips long and curling back, nice bosses, not overly heavy just a very pretty head... and the only buffalo I've only shot once.



To be continued...

I hope this is part one of many.

Very good start..and the rest of the story and lots more pics...


Mike

Looking forward to the next installment. Well done!

Russell, Good Buff. Congrats.

Thanks a lot. I really appreciate the pics of camp life. Looking forward to Part II.

Beatiful buffalo !!!!
Second part please....!!!!!
L

Congratulations on the trip.

Great report and photos, thanks for sharing.

Kyler

An excellent beginning and great pictures -- thanks.

After dropping the buff off at the skinning shed, having a nice lunch of buffalo curry and a quick nap, we were back on one of the roads that paralleled the river hunting for puku. Since Dad had waited patiently in the Rover the three hours I stalked my buffalo, he had first shot. Puku are numerous along the Luangwa and all we had to do was find the right one. About five, we spotted a ram that fit the bill. Dad and Terry made a stalk and took the ram on a sandbar at about 250 yards.




After loading Dad's puku we continued hunting and right at dusk I made a short 80 yard shot and put my puku in the salt.



So closed Day 2, a very productive day in the northern Luangwa valley.



Day 3 was uneventful, we traveled to Chibeza the next morning to see if we could find the big herd of buffalo. John and Steve had been in buffalo all of the previous day and John took a nice bull in the afternoon. Unfortunately, the buff had been bumped many times as they tried to find the right bull in the herd and they had moved out. All we had for our efforts and long run was spotting a bushbuck ewe and a failed stalk on a warthog Pop had tried to pull off... somehow the red gods of hunting got back at us for our run of luck on the previous day.

As we headed back, Terry proclaimed tommorrow was Pop's day to kill a hippo and a croc! Day four would prove fun and exciting.

That last picture is great.

Nice, bwana! Sounds like quick shooting and obviously great bullet placement on that buff!

And I agree, he is a classic!

Looking forward to more!

Keep the stories coming! They are great and I love the photos! That is a great buffalo with a very classic look, congratulations.

I spent a week in the South Luangwa Valley on a photo safari (2001, when Zambia was closed to hunting) and loved the area. Glad to hear you had a great trip.

More, more, more!!!!

Tim

Day 4 was hippo and croc, just as Terry promised. The Luangwa is lousy with both. I have to admit I was skeptical when Mark Young told me I could get both big game animals in one day if we were lucky (the booking agent snow job, you know) but he was right. We saw hundreds of hippo every day and tons of crocs sunning or swimming in the greasy water.

Terry had picked out a hippo bull in a pod just a few miles from camp that he wanted Dad to shoot. Since it is not a chore to shoot a hippo but a huge chore to get him back on dry land and process him, we took several skinners along with us. Listen guys, this is a hippo shoot... not much hunt in it. Still it is fun and a challenge to take the second largest land mammal on the planet with a .300 Winchester Magnum. We set up and Terry looked through the hippos until he found the bull...


I'd like to tell you one shot and we had our bull but inches matter in finding the hippo brain. In the end it didn't matter we had a great time and Dad put the bull in the salt.



Off for croc....

After lunch we headed over to an old hippo kill where the previous day, John had taken a nice croc estimated at 13 feet. 13 feet is a pretty good croc here... 14 feet is enormous for this area.

The hippo on the Luangwa have an unnerving habit of plunging off the bluff into the water when they are sunning or feeding on land and are startled. They charge off the bluff and literally dive from 5 to 20 feet into the water creating one hell of a splash and commotion. Well sometimes when they "dive" they hit water only inches deep and it puts a "cramp" in their style. Hippos with two broken legs don't last too long and then the crocs move in.

This is exactly what we had in an old hippo carcass that drew crocs from a mile or more downstream. Knowing where the kill was, we eased up to the bluff, looked the crocs over, and then picked a secluded vantage point 100 yards away to watch what was coming in.





Crocodiles are very wary and will slip into the water quickly if they see or sense danger. Many times just flushing Egytian geese or a squawking crane will send them underwater. So Dad, Terry and Lamek sat in a brushpile and watched the crocs fight over morsels of meat while the game scout and I lay on the ground a few yards behind them and listened to the feeding cros splash and fight over position on the carcass. About an hour later I heard movements as Dad manuvered his rifle for a shot. One bullet was all it took and he had a nice 12.5 footer.



So, Mark Young proved himself right and we collected a hippo and croc in one day!

Day 5 we decided to head back to Chibeza to see if the buff moved back to the long grass! A long two hour trip, early in the morning netted us our first sighting of Cookson's Wildebeest. We made a half-hearted stalk but our minds were on buffalo. We were almost thankful when the herd spooked and galloped away.

At Chibeza, bad news, the buff still had not returned. We kept hunting the area however and came across a very nice kudu bull. Dad and Terry followed up and after an hour stalk through thick mopane, Dad had an excellent kudu bull in bag.


Back to camp and lunch. At lunch, Alistar, John and Steve reported they had seen a big croc near an area we called the old campgrounds. They figured he would approach the magical 13 foot mark. After a nap we headed that way. We reached the area, loaded rifles and grabbed binos and eased out to a vantage point to see the old boy sunning hisself 300 yards away. We made a mental note of where to position ourselves for a shot and dropped into the brush to head his way. Almost there we froze when we saw a bushbuck ram standing under a tree 60 yards away right in the path to the croc!

Now I wanted a bushbuck ram bad and had made eight or nine blown stalks over the past 5 days not to mention several walk-abouts in areas known to be frequented by bushbuck but had always come up empty. Here was a gift from the red gods. And I am an opportunist so with very little urging from Terry I centered the crosshairs and shot him offhand. He turned a complete flip and lay still. He was a very old ram with massive broomed horns and little hair left on his neck. A super trophy! And the croc? Hell, remember this is the Luangwa River Valley and crocs are easy! Just ask Mark Young!

Nice report ... and a great hunt!

Nice pics along the way. If I ever get back, I'll try to take more pics in process too. As a newbie I had way too much input to process it all AND take pics as well ;>

Enjoyed the report! Thanks.

Bwana- Great report and a great trip with your dad! I am hunting Chanjuzi next May with Allistair. How far are you from the Chanuzi camp here? Bob.

Bob,
The Chanjuzi camp is only thirty or forty minutes away from Nyaminga camp. According to Johnny, both GMA's were considered Chanjuzi at one time but were split into two concessions in the last couple of years... so what you see is what you will be hunting in. Send me a pm with your phone number and a convenient time to call and I will be happy to answer any questions you might have about the area.
Good hunting,
Russell

Thanks again for the great pictures and details.

Day 6 was a buffalo day... in fact we decided to stay on buff near Zokwe for the next couple of days to try and sort an old kakuli bull out. We were on tracks early and followed up three bulls as they meandered through the fields grazing and then lined out for shade as the sun began to beat down. Around nine o'clock they hit the long grass and we slowed as we made our way through it, finding one spot at a termite mound where the bulls milled around before moving on... we were close, so close the urine from one bull was still warm to the touch. Five minutes later we found them bedded beneath a copse of mopane trees. Unforunately I could only see the head and boss of one bull bedded there. Fortunately, he was a nice bull.

Terry set up the sticks and moved to my left along with Lamek. I had one lane to shoot through the grass and could only see the upper two thirds of the buff's head. We watched him for several minutes and Terry could see that, when he turned his head, he was a very good bull. Terry decide if he whistled he would stand and I could get a shot. So he let out a low whistle, no movement. A louder whistle, still nothing. Louder still... nothing.

Now we all want to say that, as experienced hunters, we never miss or take bad shots. I knew better... hell, Terry Carr and others here repeat over and over "don't shoot if you don't feel comfortable, even if the PH tells you to"!
Well... brain fart or anticipation bordering on buck fever...hell take your pick. But my PH tells me if I would shoot through the little mopane bush right in front of the buff, I would hit him in the right spot. Lessons learned... if you aren't aiming at hair, don't shoot... with the PH to your left, his field of view and reference is different than yours... and never shoot at a buff lying down.

At my shot, NINE buffalo bulls... all mature stand up and haul ass. We do the "where were you aiming?" "what do you think?" routine for a few minutes and walk over to look for signs of a hit. The good news was we found absloutely nothing... and we followed the group for a half mile. The good, the bad and the ugly, folks...it isn't all "one shot and he dropped". We went back and we couldn't find where the bullet hit a limb, branch, the ground, nothing... hell it is still a mystery... and probaly a blessing I did miss. We headed back to the Rover as our tracker/firebug Lamek begins to light fires to burn the long grass as we head back. At one point the flames behind us are 20 feet tall and the fire is ROARING. I speed up and am glad to make open ground. We head back for lunch and decide to come back to this area in the afternoon to follow the bulls again thinking if we didn't press them they would settle in a mile or two.



That afternoon we got back on the tracks. The area Lamek burned had extinguished for the most part. I asked if the fires chased the buff out of an area and Terry replied that they are so used to fires they aren't bothered at all by them. Regardless, three hours of tracking and the buff never stopped and bedded again. Probably because of the rifle shot and not the fire. I did have another opportunity at both a Cookson's wildebeest bull and zebra on this stalk but passed on both because I wanted the buff. The Cookson's was an average head, maybe 25" or 26". Zebra are actually pretty rare here and I passed a shot... I have shot alot of zebra over the years, but the guys were a little disappointed I held off...




The next morning, day 7 found us out early... Dad had had enough buff hunting for the time being and stayed in camp. We were determined to get on buffalo again today and I began to visualize the hunt in my head as we bounced along the track checking for spoor. Right before we got to Zokwe, less than a quarter mile, we found steaming dung and fresh tracks! Three bulls had crossed the road... with this in our pocket, we gambled and headed back to where the nine bulls had been yesterday... only about thirty minutes away. We were disappointed when we got there... nothing! So back in the Rover, we only lose an hour, and begin the fast drive back. Right before we enter Zokwe, we see a huge bushbuck ram standing in an open field... I am an opportunist, remember. Terry slams on the brakes and says "He is big and we have another ram on quota". He doesn't get "do you want him" out of his mouth before I grab my case, pull out my rifle as I exit the Rover, jack in a shell and as the ram begins to run, follow him in the scope. The ram makes a fatal error when he stops for one last look... the Swarovski settles on his neck and the rifle bucks into my shoulder. I never see him drop as I recover from the recoil but I know the shot is good because everyone is slapping me on the back. He was a beautiful ram and in his prime. I now look forward to two new bushbuck mounts in my trophy room!


We load him quickly after a couple of pictures and head back to the buff spoor... with all of Zokwe gawking since we shot less than 300 yards from the first huts!

Chris, our driver, dropps us off at the tracks and we grab rifles and kit as he drives the bushbuck back to camp and the skinners... we fall into line and start on the spoor.

We follow these buff through the thick stuff to a favorite water hole and on to a mud wallow a few yards further on, we stop and stare at their rubbing tree completely encased in mud for several feet up and down it's trunk. An hour later the sun gets higher and the wind is no longer dependable but dances around at it's whim. The bulls pick up our scent and blow out... we never see them.

Depressed we walk a mile and hit a road Lamek is familiar with and head to where he thinks the buff might cross. But they never cross. As we walk back Lamek hears rustling in the long grass just off the road. We find and climb a termite mound and can hear the buffalo 80 yards away in the grass. And they are listening to us! So close, so far. We can't see them in this shit. Maddening! The guys discuss starting a fire to smoke them out but there is no way... this country is so big. So we leave them... to go in and try to get on them is insane... or suicidal.

It is 11:00 now and hot, damn hot... we head back to where we thought we were going to meet the truck, but our signals must have gotten mixed and we have to backtrack all the way to where we started this morning. Soaked with sweat... we find the Rover at 12:30.

Lunch. Strategy. A plan. At 4:00 we head back to where we left the bulls. We are going to drive into the long grass a ways to see where the bulls are headed. We do and find they left soon after we did. We follow on foot for awhile but the bulls are moving and we can't find where they bedded. At 5:30 I am resigned to not getting on these buffalo today. We have had some great stalks but these old bulls have played games with all types of two footed and four footed predators.

Lamek asks to try one more trick... head back to the road where earlier he tried to find where the bulls cross. His hunch pays off... they have just crossed the road... spoor is smoking hot. We dive into the grass... moving quickly as dusk falls. As we exit into a burnt patch Terry grabs my arm, Lamek is on point, a bull stands broadside less than 100 yards away. Terry lifts his binos and hisses "big boss, good drop" "shoot". Automatically the gun comes up, the buff looks a mile away, damn I screwed the scope down to 1.75x, but center the crosshairs on the shoulder and remind myself it's like shooting a schoolbus, and pull the trigger. The bull shdders and turns running away from us, I jack another round in and fire, hitting him in the hindquarter and then the grass swallows him up.

It is getting dark now and we call for the Rover. Up in the back, standing we head into the grass, call it what you will, ethical in your opinion or not, it seems smart to use the vehicle to follow the bull up. We find him standing looking at his backtrail about 50 yards in, he turns to run and collapses without another shot fired. As we move up to him, he is down but still trying to get up. A bullet between his shoulders and through his back finishes it. The first shot is perfect. A third of the way up the shoulder hitting both lungs and the blood vessels above the heart. The hindquarter shot helped slow him down.

Ten minutes before, resignation, now exhiliration! We jump out of the vehicle and everyone is shouting and slapping backs, shaking hands and smiling. He is a great old dugga boy. Heavy of horn, bereft of hair, caked in mud... absolutely beautiful! Its always amazing in hunting, the difference a hunch and ten minutes can make!


After pictures, and I mean pictures... all of the guys wanted their pictures made with the old boy... we cut him in two and loaded him in the Rover. (Easier written than done, by the way!) We arrived in camp around nine that evening, bloody, smiling and tired. Glenmorange around a fire never tasted so good!

bwanamrm,

I'm enjoying each and every post. Takes me back to just a year ago when I had my adventures in the Luangwa. One thing we didn't have an opportunity to take was a Cookson Wildebeest, because they're just not in the Southern Luangwa concessions. Did you ever get one? I'd love to see a picture.

Congratulations on an awesome trip.

Thanks, Brian

bwanamrm, thanks for the great report. Those are really some nice animals. Can't wait for my trip next year.

Damn, bwana!

Your story sure stirs my hunter's blood!

THAT is HUNTING, well done and well described.

Nothing compares to stalking the ones that can fight back!

Life is too short!

Many thanks.

Nicely done again. Thanks.

Outstanding Russell!

Things change, but w/the BA options Zambia as a destination is yet more attractive. I flew the SAA JFK-Joburg-Lusaka route in 04, but this sounds like a much better option.

Looking fwd to future installments of The Bwana Russell Chronicles!!!

Bill

Very nice. Wonderful pictures and story. Congratulations on a wonderful hunt. Kudude

After the buffalo was safely tucked away in the skinning shed, we decided to take it easy on Day 8. John and Steve were headed out around 8:30 to shoot two hippos with Steve's .470 from an area along the river that held three huge pods of hippo in close proximity of each other. We decided to tag along and after a leisurely breakfast, the whole procession of two Landrovers and one Landcruiser pulling a small trailer, along with half of the camp staff, headed out on this great adventure!

The area where these hippo hung out was on a huge sandy beach and after parking the vehicles in the shade we crossed the sand to within 50 to 60 yards of the hippo. Remember this is a hippo shoot... in fact, I never saw a hippo on dry land the whole time I was there and we traveled along the river extensively. I don't know if they fed in the dark and were back in the water before first light or whether we concentrated on other species... but none of my group saw a dry land hippo.

After glassing the pods and selecting the biggest bulls both John and Steve got their hippo... both carrying impressive ivory! The .470 did a number on the hippo. I was very impressed by the bravery of the trackers and skinners! Those guys would wait until the gases in the dead bulls stomachs forced them to the surface and then they would WADE out with a rope and tie off on the bulls. Sometimes with hippo surfacing mere yards from the guys. Allister and Terry kept a close eye on the proceedings with rifles at the ready but all went without a hitch and soon both bulls were being turned into the next weeks rations.


With the skinners and assorted fishermen who appeared out of nowhere working on the bulls, Allister suggested we go and try for the big croc I had traded for my first bushbuck several days before. He and his crew had seen the old boy in the same place on several occasions just a few miles downstream. It was a deal... we drained our Cokes, hopped in the Rover and took off.

Several miles later Allister motioned at Terry to kill the engine and we rolled into the shade of a big sausage tree. With everyone else staying behind, the two PHs and our tracker Lamek and I silently padded forward. At a spot Allister had mentally marked, he and Lamek ducked toward the bank and crawled forwrd to see if the old boy was about.


The two looked at us, smiled and gave the thumbs up. Then Allister motioned the route we needed to take... and then he made the sign I recognized as crawling. If you have ever leopard crawled across hot sand and thornbrush you know how unpleasant the next few minutes were. However as I got to the point where I could see the croc, my adrenaline surged and I made the last couple of yards easily. I raised up on my elbows, brought the rifle to bear and aimed at the spot two inches behind the croc's smile to break his neck and still keep his skull intact. I sqeezed the trigger, concentrating on the spot I wanted to hit... the rifle recoiled and dirt and grass fly in the air. Instead of hearing the "whump" of a solid hit, I heard a sickening whine of a ricochet. The croc threw himself off the bank and disappeared into the dark water.

I stood, not able to hide my disappointment at making such a rookie mistake! Lesson learned... just because the scope picture is clear when shooting prone...oh you know the rest. Allister and Terry both patted me on the back and reassured me the croc would be back in an hour or so. Yea right, the cynic in me muttered. But an hour and ten minutes later, the croc pulled hisself halfway out of the water. Allister had been sitting against a large tree the entire time watching for the croc to return. A snap of his fingers and a head tilt told us he was back.

We repeated the leopard crawl and I deserved the thorns this time. Back in position, I made sure the barrel was well above the bank when I rose. The angle was different... not entirely broadside... the scope found the mark and the big 300 grain Swift A-Frame took the croc just below the eye. He lay still for a moment and then began to roll and as he did I fired again into the white skin between his front legs. It was over and the old dinosaur was mine.

Lamek headed over to tie a rope on him and we began pulling him across the river. Once we had him on the bluff we admired all 13 feet of him and I thanked the guys for having the patience to let me redeem myself.

Wow! Great report.

Love your report and photos!!!! Keep them coming!

Best regards, D. Nelson

Great report Russell and glad you all had a good time. Nothing like being in the bush and with your father makes it even more special.

Folks, this is the last installment, I promise. And many thanks to all of you for your kind comments about my hunt and report. As BillC mentioned, this turned into a chronicle or journal, more than a report, but it has been fun reliving the trip!

Day 9 and the only major game animal I wanted to secure before we left for home was a hippo. We left camp around 8:00 and made our way to a hippo that we had tucked away a few days earlier. Imagine our shock when we showed up along that stretch of water to find only one solitary old cow hippo left! Over the course of ten days the river had fallen about a foot. Little rivulets that were flowing several days before became stagnant and dried up. And the hippo must have felt there was somewhere else that was more suitable for their frolics.

We headed back down the river and after an hour or so we were glassing two big bulls in a pod that no one had hunted this year. After discussing the merits of the bulls, I decided to take the bull with the slightly smaller head but more prominent knobs which we felt meant bigger tusks! Four shots later, he sank out of sight and we began the wait for him to bob back to the surface. By now, the local fishermen knew what shots along the river meant. We were soon joined by several men in a dugout canoe that were more than eager to help in order to share in some of the mountain of meat that would make it's way to the beach.





When the hippo bobbed to the surface, the fishermen were on it. with ropes securely tied to my hippo, we all joined to tug him to shore and then the Landrover finshed rolling him up on the beach for pictures and processing.





He was a really nice old bull with over 12 inches of tusks showing and really large "pushers" (the middle bottom teeth that jut straight out of the mouth. The guys quartered him in about an hour and a half and the fishermen's share was all the entrails. This had them excited and their wives showed up while the butchering was taking place. It was interesting to watch them leave for their small camp with a bloody piece of offal on their head and a baby on their hip! I could never picture my suburban wife doing that!

After getting back for lunch, our crew joined up and decided to forego any hunting in the afternoon. The Cookson Wildebeest and Hyenas would have to wait for our return. Due to our flight leaving at 8:45 am on Day 11 and because of the timing of the charters to get Scott (SBT) and his crew in, and subsequently carry us out, we had to leave early on Day 10 for Lusaka.

So the afternoon of Day 9, we made sure our trophies were properly tagged, finished paperwork and signed our license for our critters, and paid out tips. We then set around and relived our hunt while gazing across the Luangwa River one last time.



That morning on the way out we caught up with Scott and John and found out that John had taken buffalo and baboon on his first day. Scott had reported a big, black maned lion right across from their camp. We discussed our bag, rifles and the usual. It was good to see them and we wished them well.

There is always a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach when I leave a camp I've enjoyed, my camp is now someone else's camp, my PH, now their PH...you leave a little something behind in every place you visit... but you save and savor that memory too.

It was a great hunt and an excellent adventure. I have a goal of hunting most of the great, classical, safari country in Africa and the Luangwa River valley did not disappoint. I hope to return there someday but the Selous, Mozambique and the Okavanga Delta in Botswana are calling... not to mention Benin, the CAR, Ethiopia...did anyone hear if Kenya was reopening....

Once again I say thank you for the report. I greatly enjoyed reading the installments, and I confess that if you had posted it in one large chunk I might not have done so.

Russell, thanks for that terrific report. It sounds like such a terrific safari. We're all fortunate that you took the time to share such a detailed description with us. Your's is the safari we all dream of, whether we've had one like it or not, it sets the standard for our dreams.

Sharing it with you dad must have made it all the better.

A fantastic report with great pictures! Those are some great trophies! Congratulations my friend.

Congratulations with your great hunt! I especially liked seeing that it was a family trip, as your dad and you will enjoy sharing these memories for years to come.

Excellent report! It looks like you and your Dad had an outstanding time while securing many fine trophys. Congratulations to both of you!

This was an outstanding hunt report. Great hunt, great stories, great trophies and great photos. Thanks for going to the trouble to post.

The memories will be with you forever.

Jason

Very excellent report, and great pictures! I also agree with you reporting in installments. It made me look forward to the next one.

And I get that same funny feeling when I leave a camp. Its like "I've had such a great time here. Will I ever return?"

Thanks for posting.

Awesome Read, thanks!!!

Russell,

Fantastic!

Mark

Just a note to let everyone know that our trophies made it to the States and are waiting for us in Houston! Once again, huge kudos and many thanks to Laura DuPlooy of Muchinga Adventures and Jamie Cowan of Safari Trackers who dogged that shipment all the way home! And of course, Mark Young and Adam Clements for all their help with this hunt! You owe yourself a hunt with one of the premeir outfits in Zambia...visit the Safari Trackers booth in Dallas or Reno!