First Installment

Outfitter: Royal Kafue / Andrew Baldry
Booking Agent: Andrew Baldry
Professional Hunter: Andrew Baldry
Apprentice: Ryan Baldry
Travel Agent: Stacey Gibson / Falcon Travel
Firearms: Sako Safari Grade .375 H&H, Remington 700 Mountain Rifle .270 Winchester
Ammunition: 300 gr Nosler Partition, 300 gr CEB Solids, 275 gr CEB Safari Raptors in .375; 110 gr CEB ESP Raptors in .270
Dates: July 16-30, 2015

It’s funny how things happen sometimes. Some safaris seem to require multiple years of planning to overcome all the organizational, legal, logistic and equipment issues…and then, despite attention to detail and a fastidiousness that would make the supervisor of an ISO 1 computer assembly clean room look like a slacker, things come unraveled regardless. Other trips seem to almost organize themselves and leave the dark, paranoid corners of our brains just KNOWING that it can’t really be this easy…

Our Retirement Safari turned out to be one of the latter.

Oh, to be sure, it certainly didn’t begin that way. Rewind back to 2010: the She-Wolf and I are poring over financial spreadsheets, our investment portfolio and a Magic 8 ball (sometimes as good a financial planning tool as any other!) trying to come up with a reasonable timeframe for our joint retirement. 2015 seemed and felt doable; the spreadsheets concurred…even the Magic 8 Ball offered “signs point to yes”. Buttressed by data and the word of a cheap, plastic toy, we set things in motion to both be retired in 2015…and a safari to celebrate seemed a just reward!

Fast forward to late 2014. I’d cheated and retired a bit earlier than planned and Jane was on track to unlatch in mid-2015. Sadly, the “retirement” safari that we’d long since paid deposits on got scrubbed due to a number of circumstances…so there we were: all dressed up and nowhere to go. Clearly a new plan was in order, so Jane and I got started on one!

I reached out to Andrew Baldry of Royal Kafue, as the story of the resurrection of that property has fascinated me for some time, and asked after the possibility of booking something with him in the not-too-distant future. Imagine my surprise when he asked if we had flexibility in our timing, as he’d had a cancellation open up a couple of weeks in July of 2015! Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, we set to planning and in short order had hammered out a new retirement safari plan.

After making the series of seemingly interminable but uneventful flights, we touched down in Lusaka where we were met by Andrew and shepherded through the “diplomatic” que for entry into the country. Now, I’ve been accused of being a lot of different things in my life but I’ve NEVER been mistaken for a diplomat. Evidently the kind lady working the desk that afternoon figured that a couple of down-at-the-heels Texans were all the U.S. could manage for envoys and stamped us through anyway! Grabbing the bags and clearing the gun case, we climbed in Andrew’s truck and he dropped us off at the Protea Hotel -Lusaka where we would overnight prior to rolling out toward the Kafue Flats the following morning.

Well-rested and fortified with breakfast and several cups of coffee, we met Andrew and headed for the Kafue Flats, leaving the bustle of Lusaka in our wake (my God, how I loathe cities!). Hours later, we stopped at the parks station, where we picked up a cheerful young ZAWA game scout named Nasilele (aka “Bob”). Another 45 minutes or so of kidney-pounding bouncing and we drove out onto the Kafue Flats, a giant grass floodplain of the Kafue River. A first glance suggests that this area is as flat as a billiard table, but closer examination reveals that there are subtle undulations to the country, resulting in innumerable small watercourses, all receding toward the main river channel as the dry season continues.

In the distance we spotted some activity and in a few minutes rolled up to a happy little fly camp under construction by Andrew’s son Ryan and his skinner, Steven. After introductions were completed and we worked some kinks out of our backs, it was time for Jane to check her rifle and get busy on the Lechwe. As Ryan’s knees were far, far younger than anyone else’s, he got the nod to carry a target out to 200 yards. Resting across a folding table, Jane settled in behind her .270 and put a tidy pair of holes in the target that only required a half minute of left windage to address and she was ready to go hunting!

Jane sat up front with Andrew; Ryan, Bob and I bounced along in the back watching the tableau before us. Bird life abounds on the Flats, and in no time we’d spotted wattle cranes, spur-wing geese and sacred ibis. Lechwe dotted the Flats, and we spent the afternoon glassing any number of quality animals. As the evening sun slipped lower into the west, Andrew and Jane finally decided upon a wonderful ram tending a small herd of ewes. Small problem: remember those innumerable watercourses I’d mentioned earlier? Our hero was on the far side of one of them with no easy way to get within Jane’s comfortable shooting range. A brief council of war was held, and we decided that since the lechwe weren’t likely to come to us, we’d oblige them with a visit to their side!

The rapidly sinking sun didn’t allow for subtlety; Andrew, Jane and I splashed into the water and were soon up to mid-thigh in the clear, slowly flowing water. Trooper that she is, Jane was recovering from knee surgery a mere ten weeks prior, so I toted her rifle and provided support as we slogged across the water. The lechwe ram wasn’t altogether thrilled with our approach and crowded his harem further west as we approached; Andrew’s report of the range only shrank close to 200 yards one time. Finally reaching what passes for dry land, Jane got onto the sticks and waited for the ram to turn broadside…the range now right at 250. The ram stopped for a moment to throw a withering glance in our direction, and Jane’s rifle cracked in the still evening air. Half a heartbeat later the ram reared vertically like a stallion, the heavy slap of the bullet impact reaching us a moment later. Crashing onto his side, the ram struggled valiantly to regain his footing, but his entire front axle was out of commission…seconds later he was still and Jane had her Kafue Flats lechwe!





Wading across the last expanse of water separating us, we made our way to Jane’s trophy. As the Zambian sun slid rapidly toward the horizon, we admired the beauty of the old boy and Andrew worked his magic with his camera to capture the moment and the memory for years to come. In the last of the light, the knives came out and preparations were made to get the old soldier back across to the vehicle. As an incandescent moon rose over our first day hunting in Zambia, I started back through the water with my bride on my arm…as proud of and as happy for her as I could be!

By the time we’d crippled our way back to the vehicle, the boys had caught up to us and we all (plus one wonderful lechwe) crowded into the Toyota for the trip back to camp. Delivering the lechwe into Steven’s capable hands, we all cleaned up and Andrew and Ryan got dinner organized. A gin and tonic apiece cut the dust (or the mud in this case!) and a wonderful spaghetti Bolognese overlaid with a bright South African Cabernet rounded out the evening. Well fed and in the company of new friends, the first day of our retirement safari was firmly on the plus side of the ledger and, saying our goodnights, we crawled into our spacious tent and slept the sleep of the just (the just plain happy!).

The pre-dawn light was just brightening the canvas of the tent when I crawled out of the bedding and pulled on my clothes. Unzipping the door and stepping outside, I found that the Flats were covered by a thick fog, making the surroundings almost surreal. The boys had the fire on the make, and soon a pot for coffee and tea was hot and steaming. A quick breakfast ensued, followed by the breaking of camp in preparation for our move upcountry to Andrew’s main camp north of Mumbwa. Saying our thanks (along with our goodbyes) to Nasilele, we rolled back out to the tar road and, turning west, rolled into Mumbwa. From there we headed north, rolling along through the towering brachystegia woodlands, inside the gigantic “C” formed by the wanderings of the Kafue River. Early that afternoon, we entered Andrew’s Royal Kafue hunting area and by the time we reached camp we’d seen roan, zebra, Lichtenstein’s hartebeest and reedbuck. Pulling into camp, we were greeted by Andrew’s camp staff and greetings and introductions were made all ‘round.

As Jane began sorting out our gear for our stay at Mutambashi, Andrew and I drove south a few clicks to check my .375 and, with that done, we returned and enjoyed a simple dinner of meat pies and salad before adjourning to the fire to relax and listen to the hippos enjoying the hot springs across the river from camp.

I was awakened just before dawn by the muffled sound of the approaching footsteps of Joyce, a delightful young member of Andrew’s camp staff. A mug of hot, sweet tea did much to cut the crisp chill in the air as we dressed and then enjoyed a light breakfast as the rising sun crawled out of the mist along the Kafue. By the time we’d finished, it was light enough to go hunting, so we piled into the Toyota and rolled out of camp, past the “camp” elephants browsing in the trees just a few hundred yards down the track.

As buffalo were on my dance card, Andrew reasoned that we’d focus our efforts there and see what else we bumped into in the process. Glancing back at my notes from that day, the morning presented us with sightings of warthog, impala, a handsome sable bull, roan, reedbuck…even a side-striped jackal. The evening hunt along the Kafue floodplain showed us puku, bushbuck and impala. Given the fact that Andrew is only a few years into his scheme to restore what was before a poached-out, barren property to a game-filled slice of wild Africa, we had to tip our hats to his success!

The following day was similar to the previous, with us finding the miombo woodlands stiff with reedbuck, several good Lichtenstein’s hartebeest, eland, zebra, warthog, elephant and buffalo…all before lunch! We bumped into buffalo near a waterhole and spent some time trying to root them out of a tangle of hyparrhenia grass (the “long grass” of lore and legend). Playing tag with buffalo in that vegetable nightmare had me wondering more than once why I had a .375 magazine rifle in my hands when there was a perfectly serviceable .470 double in the vault back home! Thankfully, no gunfights broke out and both sides were able to depart the field with honor. As well, perusal of the hunting tracks through the country showed that we weren’t the only predatory species at work, as both lion and leopard tracks were in evidence.

That afternoon, Jane and Andrew got a look at a heavily-horned Lichtenstein’s hartebeest and bailed off the Toyota while Ryan, Michael, Shemi and I continued slowly out of sight. With the hartebeest watching our departure, Andrew got Jane to within about 75 yards of the big bull and she settled onto the sticks. The bull was facing right but had his head turned back watching his backtrail…Andrew had Jane line up on the tip of the bull’s nose and instructed her to shoot him just below the dark patch on his ribs when he moved his head clear. A moment later the bull swung his head forward and Andrew whispered for Jane to shoot. Seeing another hartebeest directly behind her target, Jane held her fire until he was clear, then squeezed the trigger. At the shot, the rest of the herd bolted…but her boy stumbled forward a few steps. Before Andrew could reposition the sticks for Jane, the hartebeest dropped…shot through and through with a 110 grain .277 CEB ESP Raptor. I’d have bet considerable coin that an exit wound wasn’t indicated with that combo on 300-odd pounds of hartebeest…and I’d have been very, very wrong!





The following day found us after buffalo once again, and we began by heading south to a borehole Andrew had recently drilled. While checking for tracks around the pan associated with the borehole, Andrew discovered some problems with the delivery piping and we spent a bit of time working on that. As we left the area, we spotted some buffalo further down the ridge and Andrew, Green, Michael and I took off on foot after them. After making a few kilometers in their wake, we bumped into a small group of elephant, including a cow with a youngish calf. As visibility was not the best and our path would take us immediately upwind of Mama, we backed off and hiked back to the car.

An hour or so later we spotted a trio of bulls resting in the shade of some trees along the base of a small ridge. Andrew, Ryan, Green, Michael and I grabbed our gear and made a big circle to get the best of an erratic, gusty wind. Ghosting through the tall grass and brush, we found the boys in a little hollow…two standing and one lying down. The one on the left (lying down) wasn’t much; the one to the right was better…the one in the middle was on the far side of several trees and quartering away. The sweep of the one horn that we could see was certainly promising but we needed a better look before we committed to shooting. The forty yards between us wasn’t much, and neither was our cover…so we kept still and quiet and waited for something to change. Close to a half hour crept by. Both flankers changed position, but the boy in the center stayed put - not exactly nervous but clearly unwilling to relax like his mates.

Finally, a few molecules of our collective stink must have reached their noses because they were all up and moving in an eye blink…still without us getting a decent look at the third bull. We moved across to pick up their trail and reaching the top of the ridge, saw them lined out at a steady pace through the low brush. Hugging the treeline, we hot-footed it after them. They were clearly interested in being somewhere else and we were working at moving undetected…not a combination designed to close any distance! As we moved in behind them with the wind in our faces we were able to grab a gear and, playing leapfrog through the light brush, cut the distance to less than a hundred yards.

When they finally stopped to consider their options, we were screened by brush at about seventy yards and able to determine that the third buff was worthy. Green swung the sticks up in front of me, and the crosshairs found the old boy’s chest. The .375 barked and the old boy reared up with his front legs stiff, his great head sweeping back to hook at the spot where the bullet had bitten. Then he lumbered after his departing companions, but turned ninety degrees after only fifty or so steps and kept going.

You know, I’m old enough and savvy enough not to shoot a buffalo only once. It’s just good practice to put another one (or more) in while you’ve got the opportunity…I’ve done it often enough for it to even be second nature. And yet this time I didn’t. The sight picture looked good; I’d called the shot as a winner…and I let him run. Andrew was grinning and congratulating me; Green and Michael were smiling and shaking my hand…I was a helluva fellow. We started after the bull and just after the spot where he turned we passed a small termite mound with a great gout of bright red lung blood sprayed along the side. Well, that’s handy…

And it was the last blood we found. Within another fifty yards I was mentally kicking myself for not putting some extra drain holes in the old boy a few minutes previous. As the boys tracked and Andrew covered the group with his .500, I made sure the magazine of the .375 was full of solids. And once again, I thought of my .470 double sitting lonely in the vault at home. Well, you can't play with all your toys at once, can you?

Three hundred yards along, the cover became thicker and visibility began to drop. What we COULD see all too clearly was that a virtually solid wall of trees and underbrush rose up about a hundred yards ahead. Another twenty five yards went past, with everyone on edge and focused. Auditory exclusion being what it is, the sound was halfway finished before I realized that I was hearing something; I cut my eyes over at Andrew and Green…they both nodded so I wasn’t dreaming: it HAD been the bellow of a buffalo!

Edging up to the fringe of the forest, Green suddenly pointed. It took me a moment to make out the small patch of black hide through the morass. Getting a look through the scope didn’t help; I couldn’t tell fore from aft…but regardless I held low enough from the back line to maybe catch the spine and squeezed off a shot. I’d cranked another round into the chamber before I realized that Andrew and Green had resumed the celebration…and that my buffalo had indeed left the party before that second bullet ever got there!




More to come...stand by.

Mark

Nice start. Patiently awaiting the rest.

Congratulations to everyone. Well done.

We weren't the only hunters working the area, of course.

This lad kept us entertained for several evenings with his vocalizing to the East!

Great report SO FAR!
Congratulations. Very well done!!!

Good report. Looking forward to the rest. It was good meeting you and Mrs Bee at the Royal Kafue

Beautiful! I can't wait for the rest of the report.

Wonderful!

What I always find amazing is that our lands here are for the most open savannah and visibility is good. However as soon as you wound a buffalo this Tarzan like jungle sprouts up from nowhere. Good job on the follow up mate and I was sweating.

Mrs Bee is one of the finest of shots I have come across and she is extremely conservative with her ammunition.

A proper way to celebrate retirement.

I cant wait for the rest!

Thanks all!

I'll get more posted in the next couple of days...for being retired I seem to be busier than a one-armed paper-hanger in a high wind!

Thanks, Andrew...yep, Jane is hell and death with that old .270. I learned years ago that when I heard her shoot I'd best get out my knife because I had work to do!

Mark

Great Report..Cant wait for more.

That's a very nice old Dugga Boy.

Way to go Mark, I knew you guys would have a great trip. Thanks for posting.

Congratulations on your retirement. Thank you very much for sharing your hunting story. Excellent!

Ski+3

Very nice! Congrats!

Great report! Waiting anxiously for the rest!

Retirement never looked so good!!!

Congratulations on your retirement and many thanks for a greatly written hunt report.

Now that is a beautiful Kafue lion. Was he inside Andrew's concession?

Yes, this is most assuredly on Andrew's concession. We bumped into him one evening half (maybe three quarters) of a mile from camp.

He kept us entertained around the fire for several nights in a row...roaring fit to beat the band!

Mark

quote:

Originally posted by Aurelium Fitch:
Congratulations on your retirement and many thanks for a greatly written hunt report.

Now that is a beautiful Kafue lion. Was he inside Andrew's concession?

A regular visitor and he tails the buffalo.

Those lions you have in the Kafue are surely outstanding. I love that full orangish mane.

Congrats to Andrew for making someone's dream come true.

Mark & Jane,

It was a pleasure to meet both of you on the airstrip at Royal Kafue.

Mark, your writing is excellent. I felt like I was right there with you. Many of the areas you mentioned bring back memories of our two safaris with Andrew.

Wow, your trophies are outstanding! Congratulations to you and Jane. What a wonderful retirement gift to yourselves.

My wife is still working, but when I retired in '07, I did the same thing and bought myself a safari to Namibia. I also took my 'sick leave' money and bought myself a 9.3x62 from the CZ custom shop made to my specs.

I guess hunters dream a little differently than the rest of the population.

Well done!

Now, for the rest of the story...

Second Installment

With the buffalo now in the salt, Andrew and I spent the next couple of days wandering the hinterland in search of roan and sable. Jane took the opportunity to see a bit of the countryside, as Ryan needed to drive one of the vehicles over to Amatheon, a large German farming operation, to get some welding done and Jane rode along to take advantage of their Wi-Fi capacity to confirm to family and friends on the other side of the planet that we were safe, healthy and happy.

As we drove, Andrew described how the property had been almost totally devoid of game when he undertook what has now become Royal Kafue. His dedication, and that of his team, has taken the area from being a poaching-riddled wasteland to a burgeoning slice of wild Africa in only a few short years!

After breakfast a day or so later, we opted to cruise eastward along the Kafue River floodplain, as Jane had designs on a puku. The sun was just peeking through the treetops across the river and the entire river bottom was enveloped in thick, foggy mist. Good numbers of puku were still out in the thick grass of the floodplain, while others were drifting up into the thin brush of the treeline. One ram in this bunch got Andrew’s attention, and he suggested to Jane that they go have a look.

In moments Andrew, Jane and Michael moved off to intercept the puku and had been swallowed by the mist. Ryan and the rest of the team waited patiently at the car…I waited as well; possibly not AS patiently! You see, our previous safaris always had me doing the bulk of the gun work…this trip had things reversed and I was excited to have Jane shooting more.

After a bit, the familiar crack of Jane’s .270 reached us, and shortly after came another. Minutes later, the whistle indicating that we should follow ghosted through the fog and shortly we were standing beside Jane and Andrew, admiring a handsome puku. Checking over the animal, I’d noticed that Jane’s two shots had cross-stitched the ram’s chest cavity and I asked her about it while the boys were loading the animal into the truck. “He went down at the first shot”, Jane answered, “I don’t know why Andrew had me shoot a second time”. I considered that for a second, then looked around at the brightening morning. “Was his head still up when you shot the second time?”, I asked. “A little, but not much. He was done for…” Jane replied. I grinned; “Andrew is an artist, babe…he wants to get this old boy photographed before he loses the mist…and seconds count!”. With photos of the puku completed, we rolled back to camp and set Steven to work at the skinning shed and then piled back into the Toyota to see what the roan were about.





Hours later, the boys spotted a dandy reedbuck out in the savannah. A brief council of war was held and once again Andrew, Jane and Michael set out. I had the trio in sight for most of the 300 yard stalk, then lost them as they moved behind cover for the last bit of the approach. This time her rifle only barked once…Shemi grinned at me from the back of the truck. “She is a very good shooter…” he observed, “professional!” You know, I kinda had to agree with him!





The following morning had us headed south again, rolling along in the chill morning air. We knew that lion had been working this area as well, as Green had reports from the scouts that they had found the carcass of a roan just a day or so previous.

Looking eastward into the light morning fog made spotting game challenging, but before long a big bodied roan loomed out of the mist. Andrew, Michael and I hit the ground and made an oblique approach, but couldn’t close to less than about 250 yards. Settling onto the sticks, I sent 300 grains of Nosler Partition downrange…and missed him clean (no mean feat for an animal of that size, I’ll have you know!). A bit of a footrace ensued, followed by the brief rattle of gunfire…and a wonderful example of hippotragus equinus was mine!




More to come...

Mark

Nice!!!

A better photograph of the Madam and her Puku.

Great trophies, and great shooting!
I've been enjoying you writing, and photos. Keep it coming!

Job well done by all. Andrew, I hope I have the pleasure of hunter with you. Very professional in all that you do!

wonderful report!

Congrats!!! Beautiful Trophies

Good stuff. Well Done!

Very nice, well done

Great report. Can't wait for the rest

Well done. I have always wanted to see the flats and Bangweulu swamps in Zambia the next time I am lucky enough to visit! Glad you guys had a wonderful time!