22 July 2013, 00:22
Hunter's Wife-To-BeHunting Report II - Buff & Hippo - July 2013
Hunt Dates 30 June-11July, 2013Travel Agent Steve Turner/Travel With Guns (esp Nanette)
Country Zimbabwe
Outfitter Bulembi Safaris (Martin Pieters)
PH Tini Kok
Area Omay North
Gun .375 H&H custom by Mark Bansner Ammo 300 grain Federal softs & solids
So for the second half of our hunt, we flew from RSA to Bulawayo. Arriving at the airport there (that “temporary terminal” sure looks pretty permanent to me), we noticed another hunter with the same bound travel packet from Travel With Guns. Joe was also to be hunting with Martin Pieters’ group and going to another of their camps in Omay North. Little did we know then what a warm friendship we would ultimately develop with Joe.
Tulani picked us all up at the airport and took us to the Southern Comfort Lodge to overnight there. Lovely place with delicious food and good people. Then back in the van with Tulani the next morning as we had opted for the (long) drive to camp. It turned out to be a fabulous way to really see the country and I’m so glad we did that versus the fly-over charter. Tulani, however, was the most cautious driver I’ve ever observed. Most. As in Ever. He slowed for everything. If we made a drinking game of every time he was super-cautious, we’d have been passed out in the floor of the van within an hour or two of leaving. Bless his heart (said in my best slow, southern drawl).
About 3/4s of the way, we met up with our respective PHs and transferred to their land cruisers for the remainder of the trip. The highlight of that was the TseTse Fly Control Border. Being “inspected” by the crazy, drunken man with eyes pointing in two different directions (“aaalllllooooo” “do you haaavvveee any tsetse flieeesss?”) ended up in a laugh fest. We finally arrived at Ume Camp and settled in.
After sighting in the guns the next morning (the trackers reportedly commented, “Madam shoots fast” Ha!), we started the hunt for my cape buffalo. We scouted around with no real luck. Tini recommended we move to McKenzie Camp for two nights for Wesley’s hippo and perhaps an impala or warthog for me. So we did and ended up there with our buddy Joe from the airport and his PH, Chap. That afternoon we checked out the hippo at several locations and he got on the sticks, but there was no shot at a good male.
Day two we were back on the hippos while taking in the gorgeousness that is Lake Kariba. After a morning of sneaking up in some coves trying to get the wind just right while not making a sound, we came upon a pod on the bank with a good bull hippo in the group. Wesley got off his shot and watched as the bull shook his head and charged into the water in the midst of the chaos of the rest of them. Tini got off one shot to the back end of him, but then neither could shoot again as it was impossible to be sure which one was him in the crowd. After discussion, it was decided that the angle went wonky due to his head being tipped further down than originally assessed. Obviously his brain was spared, but he did get a sore nose and ass out of the deal. Due to a unique pink salamander-shaped scar on his neck/shoulder and how territorial hippos are, we were confident we would find him. But, alas, it was not to be. Despite returning to the area later that day and then again the next morning, we saw no sign of him.
So later on day three, we moved on to buffalo so the hippo area could settle down. Tini and his very talented trackers, Nixon & Kashinga, had us on buffalo in less than hour after spotting tracks on the road. I’ve never been “shussed” so much in my life as stalking with this group. Well, darnit, I’m trying to be quiet! Then I got the pleasure of scooting on my butt down a hill and up the next to get closer. When finally on the sticks, we had a nice herd in our sights with several young bulls simply posing for me. But Tini said, no and we could do better. He has a theory that if you pass up on the not-quite-good-enough, the universe will reward you with better. I told him I’d be holding him to that promise. So the afternoon found us moving back to Ume Camp to continue our hunt from there.
Day four. Camp manager Mike joined us on the truck today – a funny guy that Mike. Love a man with a sense of humor. After a morning of riding and walking, we ended up near the old airstrip in the area they call Vietnam. The excellent trackers got me right on top of a herd. Literally. They were milling in a ravine below us. As we attempted to sneak closer for a look, they spooked and ran. We ran after and got to one side of the ravine to see them bottlenecked as they stampeded up the other side. Everyone looked disgusted and no one put the sticks up, so I grabbed my camera and started popping off some shots. Tini whirled incredulously and yelled, “Stop taking pictures. Shoot the bull! Do you see him?” Well, yes, indeed I did. Oops. He was trapped there at the bottom waiting to get through the bottleneck. But by the time, I dropped the camera to dangle from the strap and got the gun up… well, I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. And I didn’t even get a decent picture.
Back to camp somewhat sheepishly. But delighted to find that Joe and Chap had moved over there to continue their hunt. As we sat around the fire that night talking, Tini pithily remarked that he “had his photographic client with him today, but hoped his shooting client showed up tomorrow.” Uh oh, big guy. It’s on now. LOL.
Day five we returned to past the airstrip and found the buff were in the area called Tiger Bay on the other side of the road. So off we go. Hard, fast walking. Up and down. But back on the herd as a result. And we started the find-‘em-bump-’em-find-‘em-again-rinse-repeat dance that is so typical of cape buffalo hunting. The herd had an injured cow struggling to keep up (wounded by a previous hunter in camp while after leopard bait) and she finally got separated from the rest so we had to keep a wary eye out for her.
While waiting for the trackers to return from a foray at one point, I peeled off my dark green long-sleeve tee to be cooler in the short-sleeve underneath. Tini and Mike were both horrified – I couldn’t hunt in that light color! So I managed a Houdini act and skinnied out of the light one up underneath the dark one to appease them. Previously I had left my beloved Rolex in camp as Tini complained it made too much noise against my gun barrel. I had also trimmed my bangs the night before as I had been struggling to keep them out of the gun sights. About the only thing I didn’t do is dance with a goat in the light of a full moon. Mike joked that the dark green shirt would be my lucky charm, but I insisted it would be the sparkly bra worn underneath it. Hey, a girl has to have something pretty on. Ha.
To move faster and quieter, our group split up with Mike and Wesley returning to the truck. Later we would learn that Wesley burped as they were walking which caused Mike to throw up his gun prepared to battle the cranky injured cow buffalo! “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Tini, Nixon, Kashinga, the game scout, and I then set off on the Bataan death march. Fast, hard, up, down, faster, running, crawling on hands & knees, crouch-walking, crouch-running, ad nauseum. In and out of ravines including one we slip-slid into and couldn’t find a way out on the other side. Nixon basically hauled me out one-handed. And we were off again. We got on the herd and on the sticks several times during all this, but it was never the sweet spot we were after.
Until, it happened. I’m on the sticks, the herd is so close I can smell them, and I’m waiting for the bull to step through the gap. He does and he’s in my sights when a cow steps right on front. I instantly envision another hour of the dance. Tini whispers to move my aim to the next gap. My bull steps through, I say “I’ve got him,” and I shoot as Tini watches through the binos. The herd thunders off at the sound of the shot and we follow. We hardly get any distance at all when the bull whirls back toward us and I shoot again twice as Tini does, too. He falls and I start grabbing everyone for big hugs – caught the old boys off guard, I do believe.
As we approached the buffalo, he still had some movement so Tini had me put in one last insurance shot. Woohoo! I’m now in the club, boys. Slide over on the bench and make room.
Turns out we were only 100 yards from the road. Wesley and Mike had heard the shots and noted that I got off that first shot at exactly 11 am in the morning. Tini radioed Joe and Chap that this herd with several more bulls was now all theirs and they came to see what I had gotten. The crews of the two trucks worked to build a road and get in to pick him up. Tini used his GPS to determine that I had taken that initial shot at 32 yards – no wonder I could smell them. And as we examined my bull, I was elated to learn that my initial shot had been exactly where it was supposed to be. Dead on. If you are ever going to make a perfect shot, an 8-9-year old cape buffalo bull at 32 yards is the time to do it.
Our group headed back to camp, while Mike headed out with Joe, Chap, and their truck to continue the stalk on that herd. Chap had already told us he wears the same pair of lucky underwear without washing until his client gets a buffalo. I did offer the lucky sparkly bra to either Chap or Joe, but surprisingly neither took me up on it. Nonetheless, they were able to take another bull from the same herd later in the day and so the celebration in camp that night was doubly sweet. In celebration, Joe had the first sip of beer he’d had in forty years and declared that it tasted “just as bad as he remembered it.”
Hunt day six we headed back over to McKenzie camp with Joe riding along to search for the unrecovered hippo once more. They were able to locate the pod due to the distinguishing missing ear on another of the hippos, but could not locate the one with the pink salamander scar that Wesley shot. Disappointing, but as Tini said so many times, we were ready to strangle him, “That’s hunting.”
Day seven we all went fishing! With beautiful Lake Kariba there, it was irresistible.
That night we had a big braai and party as Joe would be leaving us the next day.
Day eight, Wesley and I hunted casually for impala for me and bushbuck for him. Day nine, we chose to just have a lovely, lazy day around camp while soaking up the beauty of the area. Dinner that night was buffalo tail stew made by Mike – delicious.
Overall, we can’t say enough about Martin Pieters’ Bulemi Safaris operations. Both Ume and McKenzie camp were clean and well-stocked facilities where we wanted for nothing. Food was excellent and plentiful. Shower water was hot. And the scenery was to-die-for. All three of the PHs we interacted with were skilled and capable. Tini did a most excellent job on our hunt while Mike & Chap seem equally talented. All three apprenticed under big names in the industry and it shows.
Day ten we headed back to Bulawayo for another overnight at Southern Comfort Lodge. That evening we enjoyed dinner at a local place with Tini & his girlfriend, Chap & his fiancé, and Mike. Martin was able to stop by for before dinner drinks with us.
Before heading to the airport the next morning, we were able to visit the taxidermist (a most impressive operation) and Martin’s office.
All-in-all a most wonderful adventure. As the quote goes, “Everything in Africa bites, but the safari bug is worst of all.” I’d go back tomorrow.
