Reporting back to Charles’ bungalow, we were advised that the nyala was not found and that Charles’ men would look again the following day.

In the event, it was not and has not been found to date. Looking for a dead nyala is a bit like “the needle in a hay stack†in bush country like that, with lots of cover and crevices where it might have laid up to die. The alternative scenario is that it is still alive and kicking and out there somewhere. Neither Charles or any of his men have seen a wounded nyala and every one I have shown the video to, including three more PHs and a bunch more hunters, have been of the opinion that the nyala is dead. Whichever is the case, there is no nyala trophy for Roebuck, which means I will have to go back again next year. Charles also offered to take me fishing for carp in the Great Fish River that runs through Huntshoek AND cook me a brai (bar-b-que) so I really must go back.

Having said our goodbyes and thank you, we drove back to Komga (well Allan drove back and I pulled my usual stunt of falling asleep) and the comforts of Rentons’ Lodge, where my friends and hosts were ready with cold beer, fine food, full bodied wine, good wishes, a little sympathy and commiserations for a trophy lost and congratulations for those gained. (All of this made me feel a bit better but my thoughts were with the lost nyala. I do hope the first scenario was the case and that he died quickly and we just couldn’t find him.)

The next morning, the fifth day of my hunt, we were out to get a gemsbok (oryx). Like the kudu, the gemsbok was another animal that illness whilst on last year’s hunt had stopped me getting, so I was feeling excited at the prospect of turning another dream into reality. The hunting ground was about an hour’s drive away, near to the town of Queenstown, so I did not need to be out of bed until 0500hrs. Three cups of coffee and a pocket full of bananas to provide me with a potassium fix and we were on the road. The news of the day was reporting a municipal workers strike and there were warnings that gasoline deliveries to filling stations might be affected. This being so, we stopped off at a gas station about half way and topped up the fuel tank of the truck. Wandering into the little shop area of the gas station, I discovered that they were selling many varieties of biltong. Biltong is dried meat and is very similar to the jerky that I have had in the U.S. but cut thicker. Allan recommended the quality of this particular biltong and bought some beef with fat biltong and some ostrich biltong. Both were delicious and by the time we arrived at the hunting area, we had eaten more than half of it.

Arriving at the hunting area, we paid our respects to the farmer and proceeded with the hunt. This ground was reasonably flat ground, with thorn trees and high grass, quite a contrast to the terrain at Huntshoek. This should be much easier I though. But it wasn’t much easier, just easier, the long grass was tiring to walk through and I ended the day with some of my muscles that had gone unused previously, reminding me that they were still there!!

We did see some gemsbok that day but mostly cows. We did see two bulls but one had a broken horn and the other was not of a suitable size. There were lots of warthogs and the farmer had asked me to shoot those that I saw but although I saw plenty, none gave me the chance of a shot. We left as darkness was falling, having walked all day without the opportunity of a shot. But we all know that hunting is like that. The only guarantee is there is no guarantee. At that point, I decided that a potassium fix was in order and as I reached into my fleece pocket for a banana, my hand found only mashed banana, unfit to eat and clinging to the fleece material. It took some effort to clean it out. Moral? Don’t put all your bananas in one fleece pocket!
Having made our way back to the Lodge, gemsbokless, I sat musing that there was plenty of time left and as I enjoyed some cold Windhoek Lager with my companions, Andrew and his two PHs planned for the next day’s hunting.

Paul was to try for an Eland and a Gemsbok, as was Iain. I was still on for my gemsbok. We were to go to an area high in the mountains near to Queenstown, where I had been the previous day. The terrain could not have been more different. These hills were steep and high. Ear poppin’ high.

Arriving at the hunting area the three of us, accompanied by our respective PHs positioned ourselves around a huge bowl-like valley, about three quarters of the way up its very steep sides. There was a herd of gemsbok on the valley floor and as we watched their movement, we wondered which of us would have the first opportunity. Iain was positioned a kilometre or so to my left and Paul, similar to my right, though Paul was out of sight, behind a jutting out cliff. The gemsbok came within my range of vision though they were nearer to Iain. Allan picked out a likely gemsbok bull from a group me that was feeding behind some thorn trees on the extreme right of the herd. This group of gemsbok were quite a distance from the main group that were nearer to Iain’s position. Having identified the bull that Allan had pointed out, I put my self in a reasonably comfortable sitting position, with my rifle on a long bipod. I had ranged the bull at three hundred and eighty-five yards and from my good shooting position, was confident that I could take a successful shot. I watched this bull feeding behind the thorn tree for thirty-five minutes, leaning over my rifle and exposing the left side of my face to a sun that did not feel too hot but was strong enough to give me a two tone face!! Before I got a chance to shoot, Iain did and when his shot rang out, my gemsbok left speedily, along with the others in the herd. I went to find a place where the sun would make the right side of my face as red as the left. Talk about turning the other cheek!!

Iain had thought that he had missed that first gemsbok and as we all went our separate ways to carry on our hunt, Iain came across another gemsbok bull and shot it.

Iain’s Gemsbok.



Paul had gone on to find a fine eland bull. Eland, I believe, are the world’s biggest antelope and can grow up to 1000kg in weight (2200lbs). He dropped it with a neck shot at three hundred and fifty yards, giving it another shot to make sure before going to retrieve it. Eland are massive. Here is Paul’s one.



And with Paul.





And with Andrew and Paul.



Iain got an eland too.

Iain’s Eland.



And at the processing area, my gemsbok in foreground, eland at back.



Having got his eland, Paul turned his attention to getting his gemsbok. He stalked on to one later that afternoon and as PH and Kei River Safaris owner Andrew was assessing the gemsbok, he noticed a small blood trickle from the top of the animals back. It had been the first gemsbok that Iain had taken a shot at early that morning; Iain’s bullet had just grazed its back. That fact sealed the gemsbok’s fate and it dropped to a lung shot from Paul’s 7mm Rem Mag.

Here it is.



Meanwhile, Allan and I had been walking round hills, up hills, down hills and over hills, looking for a suitable gemsbok bull. Around 1530hrs, we (well Allan did) spotted a group of gemsbok on a hillside up to our right about four hundred yards distant. We stalked up to one hundred and forty yards and stood still, concealed by a thicket of thorn and watched the group of gemsbok. Allan had his glasses on one animal and was just waiting to confirm that it was a shootable bull. Both genders of gemsbok sport horns, with the females tending to grow longer horns than the males. Males have thicker horns and this is most visible around the boss of the horn. This is not sufficient identification, especially in thick scrub, so what we were trying to identify was the p*nis sheath. Females definitely do not have one of them!! Eventually, we were able to view that part of a gemsbok bull’s anatomy and Allan said, “Shoot it.†I did and heard the bullet strike with a satisfying thud. The gemsbok lowered its head and moved slowly down hill. I racked another round into the chamber of my rifle and we moved forward to where the beast was standing when shot, but first, Allan tied a marker on the tree where we had been standing when the shot was taken. Gemsbok, when wounded, like bush buck, can be very aggressive and dangerous and the two giant size toothpicks they sport on their heads could easily do one a serious mischief, so we approached the area we expected to see the gemsbok with great caution. However, we need not have worried. Fifteen yards or so, downhill from where it had been standing, lay the dead gemsbok. As we approached the beast, Allan exclaimed, “Oh dear me. What a dreadful error we have made.†Well, that is not exactly verbatim what Allan exclaimed but propriety on this fine family website precludes me reporting the actual statement made. As we stood around the gemsbok, we could see clearly that it was a cow and cows were not supposed to get shot. As a professional hunter, Allan was concerned and disappointed that he had identified a cow as a bull. This cow had been in a fight with another gemsbok and her opponent had managed to poke her in the belly with its horns. One hole, the deepest one, was exactly where the p*nis sheath would have been and the tissue surrounding the wound had swollen up to the size of a softball thus making the cow look like a bull. I felt Allan could be vindicated on two counts. One, the wound did look, for all the world like a p*nis sheath and two, if we had known it was a wounded cow, we would have shot her anyway as it would only have been a matter of time (short time) before she died or was killed anyway.

When we reported back to the farmer, he agreed wholeheartedly. Allan felt a bit happier then but I suspect the professional in him was still a little disappointed in himself. He need not have been. Probably eleven out of ten, in those particular circumstances, would have called the same shot.



A cold beer, coffee and some delicious cheese scones (muffins) with the farmer and some good hunting conversation later, we boarded the trucks for the drive back to Rentons’ Lodge.

Andrew had been telling us about how eland fillets were his favourite game cut and to prove it, he had Paul’s eland fillets stowed in his truck, to bar-b-que (brai) for our dinner that evening.

Here is a picture of Andrew doing just that.



They were delicious.

Iain had completed his package by this time. Here is a picture of Iain’s PH Dave, a keen bow hunter as you can see.



Iain’s Caracal.



Iain’s Common Reedbuck.



Iain’s Geese.



I had two animals left in my package by this time. A common reedbuck and a bush buck. Paul and Iain also had a common reedbuck in their package but they had already shot theirs. Andrew, the consummate professional, told me that he did not feel that there was a big enough trophy left in the immediate area and asked if I minded a longer drive to an area near to Durban, where a good trophy could almost be guaranteed. I declined, preferring to stay local and changed my common reedbuck for a second bush buck. I do like hunting bush buck, probably because they remind me of roebucks with attitude. Andrew had no problem with this, nor did I think he would as the clients comfort, safety and wishes are always foremost in his mind. He informed me that if I would fly into Durban on my 2008 hunt, he would take me for a common reedbuck and a nyala, before driving South to Rentons’ Lodge. It’s a deal!!

The next morning we set off on the short drive to the bush buck hunting area. Bush buck are beautiful antelope with an amazing variety of coat markings and shades. I had a shoulder mount made of the bush buck I got last year and wanted another to match it and a further bush buck to have a full flat skin for my trophy room floor.

Arriving at the hunting ground, we made our pleasantries with the farmer and headed off for the hunt. As we parked the truck, we could see a bush buck ewe feeding along the edge of a grass field above which was bush land about four hundred yards away to our front and right. Where there are ewes there are rams so we crossed a wire fence to our right and moved off in waist high grass towards a series of thorn trees, strung out in line between us and where the ewe stood. We had only moved about one hundred yards when we spied the ram and a fine ram too. We slowly moved toward him, keeping the line of trees between us and the ram and stopped at a fairly stout thorn tree, ranged at two hundred yards from the ram, which was oblivious to our presence. The tree gave me a fairly stable shooting rest. The bush buck stretched up to eat from a tree, giving me a perfect opportunity to introduce him to Mr. Hornady. Although the ram was knocked over by the shot, he was still kicking for a second or two. Both Allan and I felt that the first shot had been enough, but we stood still for a few minutes, rifle ready to squeeze off another shot should it be necessary. It wasn’t and we made our way forward, down the valley, across the dry stream bed and up through the dense bush and into the grass field, at the top of which, the bush buck lay. Ever mindful of the damage that a wounded bush buck can do to man or dog or both, Allan sent the dogs ahead of us. If the bush buck was still alive, the dogs would let us know. As it happened, the bush buck was not alive and when this had been ascertained, I made the rifle safe and got ready for the photographs. I’ll swear I have never had so many pictures taken of me since my wedding, twenty six years ago!!

Pictures are an important part of any and everyone’s safari, as they are what will keep your memory of your safari alive and will help you communicate to others what a wonderful experience and time you had on your African plains game hunt. Picture taking forms a part of the professional hunter course syllabus and most PHs can take a decent photograph. Allan is a bit of a perfectionist and quite a bit of time would be spent in the taking of photographs and he wouldn’t quit till he felt it was just right. Then, he would show you the photographs to make sure that you agreed with him. Quite frankly, after fifteen minutes sitting with my butt on a sharp rock and my legs curled up (you mustn’t get your boot in the picture) thinking that they were no longer attached to your body, I would have confessed anything to escape. All the E & E Training I ever did in the military did not prepare me for the interminable photo sessions! Joking aside, these PHs really want you to have the best they can give to keep your hunting time with them as fresh in your mind as can be.

Allan caught this shot at the bush buck ram on video too.

Here is my early morning ram.







With Allan.



This poor beast (the ram, not Allan) was covered in little red ticks and I did my best not to get any on me. I had been spraying anti tick spray on all exposed parts and some that were not exposed too and these ticks were the first I had seen this trip. However, they did not spoil the enjoyment of the hunt.

Success coming so early in the morning (it was only 0930hrs) I thought we will get another before lunch and then it will be back to the Lodge, cold beer and sit in the sun. That dream was not to be for although we saw more bush buck ewes, we did not see another ram. Lunch time arrived and we were near enough to a local truck stop type burger restaurant to go there to eat lunch. The heavy mixed grill that I was hungry enough to eat was also enough to make me want to sleep if I would have stopped moving, so Allan took me to see one of the farmers on whose land I hunted bush buck and warthog last year. Andrew the farmer, hospitable as ever, served up the coffee and hunting banter in equal proportion. Allan showed Andrew the nyala video on Andrews big television screen and he too felt that the nyala could not have lived long after the two shots.

Having consumed enough of Andrew’s coffee to keep me awake, I made my goodbyes and Allan and I went back to the task of getting my second bush buck.

We walked for about an hour an a half and eventually came to a stop at a clump of thorn trees that gave us enough cover to stand and watch across a small valley with a dried up stream at the bottom, over an open clearing to the edge of some bush land.

It looked like a likely place to find bush buck and sure enough, it wasn’t long before a small ram came feeding along the tree line. Shortly after, a bigger ram moved in but not big enough to shoot. We watched for another twenty or so minutes when another ram arrived on the scene. He was big enough to shoot and I watched him through my scope as he fed along the bush line. Again, like the first bush buck, he stretched up to reach what must have been to him a tasty morsel when I squeezed the trigger. To my shock, horror and dismay, the shot, (one hundred and eighty-five yards), had gone well over his back. A complete miss. However, the ram did not know where the shot had come from (my rifle has a sound moderator fitted) and he just moved off behind a bush. There was at least one of the other bush buck rams still feeding amongst the scrub to the left of where he had been. We waited about fifteen minutes when Allan suggested that we give it another fifteen minutes and then give up as the light would soon go. I asked Allan to stay for thirty minutes, until 1630hrs, as I felt that the ram was still in the area. Sure enough, ten minutes later, out came the big ram again.
He fed along the bush line, to the right and front of where I was standing. He stopped to sample a tasty leaf or two and my second shot took him, liver and lungs. He still took off but stopped again. Bearing in mind that the last thing you might want is a wounded bush buck at last light, I shot him again, centre mass. He took the bullet and moved forward again. As soon as I had him in my sight again I shot again, centre mass, and he fell behind some bushes. I reloaded my rifle and we moved across the little valley and dry stream bed and up the slope to where the ram lay. Bush buck horns are extremely sharp and they know how to use them. Many a dog has been killed by a wounded bush buck and they are just as willing to attack the hunter. The bush buck’s size make those formidable spikes line up for the average size human’s groin area and there have been plenty of femoral arteries severed by an angry bush buck’s horns.

We approached slowly and from above, Allan sending his dogs in ahead but there was no need really. The bush buck ram was dead, shot through liver and lung, with the two further shots where they were aimed, centre mass. They were not needed but the rule is if he does not drop, shoot again till he does. A wise rule too! All this was caught on Allan’s video camera.

Racing against the setting sun, Msetele the tracker put the ram on his shoulders and sped off to the truck. Allan asked if I minded if he rushed ahead to set the photograph up. I, as the star subject of the photograph (actually the bush buck ram was the star subject), could amble along at my own pace, which would take some fifteen minutes more that Allan’s.

When I arrived at the truck, I just had to flop down beside the ram and here is the result.



And with Msetele.



And with Allan.



Bush buck loaded on the truck, it was back to Rentons’ Lodge, where, after a nice shower, it was down to the bar for cold Windhoek and hunting stories prior to dinner.

I had finished my package and had sought to have a lazy day, with Allan taking me to a local gun shop in the morning and hunting some long range baboons in the afternoon. Paul and his son Tom were off to shoot a bush buck in the morning and wing shooting with Iain in the afternoon.

We met Paul, Tom and Andrew as they arrived at the gate of Rentons’ Lodge, they coming in, us going out to the gun shop. Paul and Tom had shot a fine bush buck ram apiece.



When young Tom found out that he was to go to Africa this year, he was delighted. However, he was not aware that Paul and I had planned a surprise for him. Whenever he asked Paul if he would be able to shoot something, Paul would answer, “We can set you up a target or two.†fully realising that that was not what Tom meant. We kept this up until just before we were about to leave for Africa, when Tom asked his Dad if he thought that Andrew would let him shoot an animal if Tom paid him for it. Paul replied that he did not know but we could see when we got there. Tom was very pleasantly surprised when he found out that Paul had bought him a bush buck and I, as a belated birthday present, had bought him and impala. Was Tom pleased??







Paul had also taken a nice common reedbuck. Here it is.



When we got to the gun shop, it was closed so we headed back to camp, ate an excellent brunch, got suited up and went out for some long range baboons, whilst Iain and Paul went wing shooting for geese.

I did get the opportunity of two shots missing both times. One shot was eight hundred and fifty yards and one seven hundred and thirty yards. Close but no cigar. I obviously need more practice using the stadia bars of my scope I thought. This was the terrain.













That afternoon, when we arrived back at the Lodge, Paul and Iain were still out goose shooting, Sharyn and Max were shopping in East London, so rather than deplete Andrew’s beer supply further, I thought I would have a nap. Setting my alarm for 1700hrs, I dozed off and remember waking up at one point and scratching my stomach, as I did, I realised that I had a tick attached to me and removed it, showering, then bathing the site of the bite with medical alcohol gel and then antiseptic cream. I gave it no more thought.

When everyone returned from their respective activities, the bar began to fill up and the happy banter of tired, satisfied hunters and hunting companions filled the air and continued to do so until we were called to the dinner table.

It is a tradition at Rentons Lodge that the last day’s dinner is a seafood dinner and that morning, Andrew’s wife Sharyn and Paul’s wife Max, had been down to the fish market at East London to purchase the ingredients. Shrimp, scallops, two types of fish, prawns and calamari, along with braised lamb chops and all the salads and vegetables you could wish for. All served up in a heady atmosphere of a hunt now over.

This is a few of the group just prior to departure. Tom, Paul, Heather, her PH husband Dave and Iain. Dave had been giving pistol shooting lessons to Tom, Paul and Max an hour or two previous. They enjoyed the opportunity to fire a Ruger .357 Magnum immensely as no such opportunity exists in U.K., since a Governmental handgun ban in 1997.



The next morning, Andrew and Sharyn drove us into East London, where we were booked into very nice chalet type hotel, on the river bank overlooking the bay. There we had lunch and settled our debts with Andrew for a real value for money hunt.

Our party had, as is our custom, invited our hosts, the PHs and their wives/girlfriends to join us at a restaurant on the sea front for dinner, a gesture to express our thanks for the manner in which we had been looked after the preceding ten days. This was a very happy occasion with much noise and laughter. I shudder to think what the other patrons thought. But heck, that’s up to them.

We made our goodbyes to PHs Allan and Dave and their respective partners and went back to the hotel for our last night in East London.

After a lazy breakfast, we were picked up by Andrew and Sharyn and taken to the airport to catch our flight to Cape Town, where we would spend two days before leaving South Africa for U.K.

Flight formalities, even carrying firearms, are painless in RSA and a short nap later, I woke up landing at Cape Town. We were staying in a four star hotel, in St. Georges Mall, in the city centre. I had managed to book it on the internet at the unbelievable price of £45 ($90) for my room and £48 ($96) for a family room for Paul, Max and Tom, inclusive of breakfast, for two days. We even got a late check out till 1800hrs on the day of departure. (£1=$2 at the exchange rate of the day)

Iain has been visiting Cape Town for a number of years and he knows the city well. He was our tour guide and he took us up to the top of Table Mountain, via the cable car. The view from there is amazing.







It’s a long way down.



Max and Tom were there.



Iain, Roebuck and Paul.



Paul and Max.



We also explored the huge shopping and restaurant area of Victoria and Albert Waterfront Area and a couple of gun shops. A great place for a shopaholic or just for someone who enjoys their food and drink. Everything is reasonably priced and good value.

It’s a truism that time does fly and before we knew it, Iain was waving us goodbye at the hotel door. He was staying one more night, flying back to London the next morning.

Once again, the check in procedure was smooth and easy and we were soon boarding the plane for home. As I sat waiting for the plane to take off, I reflected on how fortunate I am to have enjoyed such a wonderful hunting experience, with truly good friends and welcoming and caring hosts. Making new friends is almost mandatory on these trips and this one was no exception. The introduction to Mike and Don, from South Carolina (I had an E-mail from Mike yesterday, confirming he and his wife will come to Scotland in September, to hunt the elusive red stag and roe buck with me) and Allan the PH, with whom I exchange at least weekly E-mails. As for the Renton family? They have now moved up into the old friend category.

Now you know, and I know, that the heart is just a big muscle pump. But we all believe that it is the centre of our being. From there springs the real, intense feelings we have for our wife, girlfriend, children and buddies, our country, our way of life, our faith and our principles. And we often say that we have left our heart here there and everywhere. That is certainly true of me. I have left my heart in the highlands of Scotland, that is my culture and heritage; I have left my heart in the bayous of Louisiana, where I was welcomed as a stranger, allowed to join in making Cajun music and made to feel one of the family; I left my heart with my hunting friends in Germany, whose respect and hospitality I sometimes wonder if I deserve; I left my heart in Texas, Oklahoma, New Zealand, Australia; and divers other places. The bulk of it, of course, remains at home, as is right and proper.

But a very special little bit will ever be, in the Eastern Cape of South Africa.

See you again. Same time, same place, next year.

Roebuck.

Post script.

I arrived home on the Thursday. I had cleaned my tick bite site daily and applied antiseptic dressing. However, by the Sunday, I was having a small number of large, black, pimple-like eruptions called eschars round my waist. I suspected that I had contracted South African Tick Fever as I was very tired and my joints were aching too. I went to my doctor the next day, was prescribed doxycycline, the classic treatment and had a blood test. Two days after starting the antibiotics, the symptoms stopped and the eschars started to fade. I go back for another blood test tomorrow to make sure I am clear. They say that only one in sixty ticks carry the fever, I was just lucky that day!! Wish I was as lucky in raffles or the lottery!! Plus side was that I never did get the classic blinding headache symptom. Even if tick fever came with every trip, I would still go.

Hi David

We met on my stand at the CLA Game Fair in 2006.

It looks and sounds like you all had a great hunt. With some excellent trophies.

I have some great offers on at the moment. Leopard/Plainsgame safaris in Zim. I have a new hunting area in Mozabique for Buffalo, Croc, Hippo and plainsgame such as Suni, Oribi, Sable, Waterbuck, Nyala, Forest Duikers etc. Also Namibia.

Will you be going to the Midland Game Fair this year?

Congratulations on your hunt.

Best regards

Mike Taylor
Mike Taylor Sporting

Sure I will be at the Midland Mike. Look forward to seeing you there.

I will send you my stand number and location when i get them through the post.

Very nice report!

Thank you Ann. Love the leopard photo. I've got one of these on next year's list. What calibre did you take it with?

David.

David,

That was a .375H&H loaded with 300 grain Woodleigh softs for Ingwe. Where will you be doing your leopard hunt?

Most likely with Kei River Hunting Safaris, located in the Eastern Cape. I had planned on using my .308 with 180gn Speer Round Nose at about 2700ft/sec but have not discussed it with the outfitter yet.

David.

What an amazing trip with amazing trophies. I'm very impressed - congrats!

Thank you Bwanna. I appreciate your kind comments.

Very, very nice. Some great animals!

Thank you.

David.

What a great report. We appreciate you sharing your photos and thoughts with us. An excellent mix ox great pictures and well written commentary.

Thank you Spinedoc. It was a pleasure for me to write up. I kind of relived the whole fun experience again in the writing.

David.