UNRAVELING (“Dit rafel uit”)
“Another powerful experience at Blaauwkrantz…” begins our guest book entry for October 19-27, 2018. Eleven years for us had passed since bringing the whole family along to hunt with the Rudman-Dixie clan, now increased in number to tribe strength! Pamela and I greatly enjoyed both success (hers) and a changing heart (mine).
Primarily a hunting report, please read this account as a story told, not to instruct, but to encourage. Being faithful to you, the reader, means I must also insert a caveat that follows the format I used in a spiritual journey published by Blurb, via Larry Adam’s Thumbprint Books, Inc. Used and new copies of MY NAME IS BARRY! are still available at Amazon, and why you’d want to read it is your own business. Here goes.
WARNING: some of the following is intensely personal and spiritual in nature. In addition, it is a hunting story, and context requires I relate it with full detail. Be advised that you have (my) full permission to set it aside at any time, in which event you’ll have to miss out on “the rest of the story”.
“My heart is not proud, O LORD, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters…I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me.” Psalm 131:1-2 NIV (excerpted). So, no more tears, now. Yet, the story must be told...
[Comment: I have edited previous hunt reports at AR (Accuratereloading.com) to create a hunting only version, while making pictures more available via web-hosting photo sites, not in the published form. This report won’t be published, so I ask for leniency. If required to do so, I will make changes, of course. Again, I am telling, not selling. Also, following Philip Dixie’s lead, let’s just use “Blkz” for all those letters in the original Dutch spelling for “blue cliffs”, die blou krantze (Afrikaans.) Blue figures prominently in this story, as you will see -- mood, wildebeest and cranes, along with the cliffs]







It all started with a zebra, and an idea for a baboon skull/shield mount that Pamela remembered from the first part of our 2007 family safari, in Mpumalanga, at BadgerLeur property. Taking both her waterbuck and gemsbok the first day with Pieter Diedricks left lots of fill-in time before flying to Port Elizabeth, completing my part of that safari at Blkz. Having taken Kudu #2 at the main farm with Philip Dixie and Mr. Jackson, we journeyed to Philip’s property in Springvale for a matched pair of old mountain reedbuck rams. Mine became a shoulder mount, hers a shield mount, and the backskin/flatskins a “push-me-pull-you” throw for Alyssa’s room. Courtney stuck with jewelry and other purchases to remember a great time had by all in 2007.
The mountain reedbuck was my last animal shot to date. Well, there were a few feral hogs trapped, or caught out and eliminated, but that’s not hunting per se. Finally, after what’s been ten years retired from a job and the final four spent taking care of Dad in his last days, we booked a safari with the Rudman family (Blkz) for August 7-18. August 6, 2018 made 35 years of being married to the former Pamela Diane Miles. (Should be Diana, because she’s a huntress!) Only one schoolboy issue remained, namely the kongoni Chuck Pinkerton shot instead of me, senior year of high school in Kenya. My own “konk” would have to be a red hartebeest at Uitenhage, RSA.
Then, in early July, I had double-bypass heart surgery. Talk about change of heart!! Linda Schrader of Falcon Travel helped sort a new plan to go in October instead, my surgeon and cardiologist having given the “green light” to proceed. Pamela would be the primary hunter, but I carried my .375 along. Maybe I could make a finishing shot, getting all the monkeys off my back. More on that later.
I came to listen, to hear God speak to my heart once again. For some reason, it is at Blkz I hear His voice most clearly, perhaps because it is Africa and where Mama Trinette Rudman lives. I know it is about the hunting, that it is business, and so on. Yet, I have been profoundly affected twice before, interacting with Mama and Philip.
“Day Zero” (Oct. 16 to 19) began overnight in a hotel near IAH (Houston), ready to fly to IAD (Dulles) on United and out to South Africa on SAA, with a re-fuel stop in Senegal before JNB (O.R. Tambo). Our overnight stay, mandatory when taking a domestic flight in country that follows an international arrival, was at Afton House. They, via Mr. X and coordinated with Linda Schrader, organized our temporary rifle permitting. Freddie handled the incoming process along with driver Maurius. Mr. X saw to outgoing details in the morning, getting everything “according to Hoyle” with Maurius again driving. Elise joined us along with Vim from Chacma Safaris and his client, finishing up a Mozambique first time safari, for a steak supper. Wisdom from Zimbabwe did kitchen honors, including breakfast the next morning. Charney handled office duties and gift shopping for Pamela. (Mark, the client, used Vim’s .416 Rigby to good effect. He had experience with his own .338 WinMag. Renting, rather than carrying his own weapon, made sense to him. This is a trend, perhaps soon the norm for hunting. The process for bringing rifles in and out of South Africa, even as a way point is daunting.)
A very early morning found me in the tuin (garden) experiencing African birds again. Hey, I even heard a turaco nearby -- they call them louries in South Africa. Carmen Rudman has an art studio business, decorating animal skulls clients have taken, or those resulting from natural death at Blkz. Wild Deco Bones features in the first edition of AFRICAN OASIS magazine, which I’d read online. Afton House had paper copies, one of which I carried along to show her. I intended to have her “do up” my hartebeest skull, not having anywhere else to hang trophies in the house.
We blew into Port Elizabeth, literally. Hot weather had already started, the hunting season being technically over. Farm operations were underway again, but the Rudmans had accommodated me in the heart operation delay and we went for it! “God gave you a cold front, Pamela!” I said. (Zebra skins tend to have hair slip in the heat.)
AT LAST
Day One (Oct. 20) started our safari, rifle checks happening upon arrival the evening before. Gerald Evert, an apprentice PH completing a practical semester before resuming studies in November, had fetched us from the airport and prepared a fine braai enjoyed with Francois and Crisbel. Arthur, Trinette and Eardley were occupied at game ranching and PHASA dinners, Francois swapping places with his brother tonight. Conversation was lively, and I was particularly gabby with all my meds, jet lag and anticipation. A 2XL long-sleeve T-shirt brought along for a (former) employee fit Gerald nicely and the ice was truly broken. A very impressive young man!
“General hunting” was Philip’s plan, and our lists included zebra plus baboon for Pamela, and a red hartebeest for me. (We would later have to open the list up!) As we traveled between spots, I learned about former trackers’ whereabouts, and started to know Neville, now seven years working for Philip. Instead of conversing in Xhosa, it was Afrikaans between them, along with occasional English. Neville has Afrikaans and Xhosa parentage, so I got to try out what I’ve been learning on my own from materials in both languages. I’d expected to interact with Philip’s kids, maybe, not knowing about their boarding school schedules. Neville played along, enjoying my silliness. God gave me an outlet for 17 years’ interest, spent alone with books and tapes. Hey, I could almost understand the kids fussing at one another in the back of the jet to P.E.!
Philip’s hip operation became possible due to our/my surgery delay, and he had healed up quite well, still in full command. We started at “VELA”, soon to be retitled “Eland Horing”, working our way up, pursuing a red hartebeest herd. At the top, we got to see a brand-new calf with its mother, then we scoped out the herd bull behind a screen of scrub, finding a rest for my rifle on a pile of rocks. I had the wrong boots on for this terrain, but a Camelbak and sling-stud keeper combo let me drink water on demand while toting the .375 Weatherby. My heart kept up with the pace Philip set, but jet lag, asthma and heart medicines made it a chore! No shot presented itself, though. After seeing us, the herd left to go all the way down the mountain, one taking a last peek at me before skedaddling, too. Pamela’s turn next.
Die blomme! My, but the veld was in bloom! Rain within the past couple weeks had allowed even the fynbos to flower, and the shallow-rooted succulent plant base was once again spectacularly aflame with color! (Later in the week, some had to be burnt!)
Spot-and-stalk attempts with a wilder herd of zebra not often hunted there also proved fruitless. Philip mentioned hot weather was forecast a couple of days away. We would have to plan around that, but afternoon hunting this day still made sense. At brunch, I continued my 2007 M&M’s fun, getting familiar with Rina, Melanie and Babatjie back at the lodge. (They took care of laundry and meals preparation for us guests.)
That afternoon, after a lie-down, we carried on hunting around the Sunlands property where I’d taken bushbuck and blesbok in 2005. Although the zebras were less wild, the blesbok and ostriches gave constant notice of our presence. Pamela resented this “interference” on their part. Never get on Pamela’s list! Stay tuned there.
Results stayed the same until Philip called for “one last walk” as darkness began its approach. I stayed in the bakkie (truck), praying for her success. I did not hear a “whop!” to accompany the shot. Finally deciding it was okay to start the bakkie up and come closer, “wrong side” steering and all, I saw the herd coming out, yet looking back to where Philip, Neville and Pamela had gone. Neville hollered something, then gave me thumbs up and finished driving to where the picture taking started. (They had been busy posing Pamela behind a nice, old stallion -- her zebra!) Please notice the “sergeant stripe” / zebra heart triangle striping, just like on my home-made target for practice off shooting tripods.









After Neville did the initial “gut”, I wondered how the zebra would be retrieved and carried to the skinning shed / cooler. As I saw Neville in the bed grasping a foreleg, and Philip (the hip surgery one) getting ready to shove the rest into the truck, I told Pamela; “I have no business helping.” Yet, there I went to make the difference that got Mr. Zebra loaded! Guess whose heart must be okay after all?!! (I still don’t believe their strength. Philip’s new truck must have a block-and-tackle with a winch installed!)
So, we were off to a great start. Knowing the baboon was next, and that we’d be sitting at the lodge with a week’s time on our hands if Pamela’s track record held, I started asking about payment options and extra animals, having already wired ahead the amount needed for our trip. After a quick supper, without Trinette around to handle meals until the morrow, we got ready for a very early start. Back at our room, I started thinking about write-up and title possibilities. AT LAST, maybe? How about “Crazy in Uitenhage” (say you-ten-hayg.) “Sleepless in Uitenhage II” maybe?
I really hadn’t planned a write-up this time, ready to wrap up safari hunting after finishing up the “konk” thing for me, and the zebra-baboon thing for Pamela. Well, along with jet lag and medicine, Pamela’s spectacular day with me put my mind in over-load, way too stimulated to sleep. I reflected on conversations at Gerald’s braai. When I teased him to be careful, that someone would marry him for his recipes, he replied, “Well, not yet!” I kept thinking how love makes no sense. It happens all the time. One’s in a wheelchair and the other gets whopped in the ear, at the same time, by love. “Hey, what have they done to us? We must make a plan. We attack at dawn!” Folks going down with the ship ask the captain to marry them! Why? “We want to die married, that’s why!” Two people falling in love at the same time, with one another, is a precious thing and beyond prediction. It makes no sense (but sure sells lots of music!)
Also, having experienced me talking non-stop at supper, seated next to Pamela, maybe they’d been thinking in Afrikaans “O! Ek weet nou. Daai outjie [“Maal of the Americas”] ‘n klientjie is, en sy’s ‘n reus!” (Basically, “I get it. That guy – maal means crazy – is the kid, and she’s a giant!” Which is true!)
Then I thought about Dad, and our taking care of his every need for four years. Yet, he wouldn’t talk to me, leaving this earth resenting his sons’ successes and any attention being drawn away from him, leaving his small home town behind. Money alone isn’t a true inheritance, and he had a fine reputation, but I wanted a dad most. My part served to pay for the safari, and I’d followed his wishes executing his will.
Mostly, I reveled in Pamela’s splendid day! Finally, what I heard AT LAST was this. “Barry, as crazy and happy as Pamela’s success and happiness today makes you -- that’s what I feel for you and everyone who believes I am who I’ve said I am, equally, all the time, without reserve or limit!” Wow, God! Thanks for speaking so clearly. What! I helped load a zebra? Maybe there’s more to hear. Open my ears, LORD.
Reflection(s): It’s an iPhone world now. Handheld radios between tracker and PH (Professional Hunter) are gone -- texting reigns supreme. Forms 4457, photos of guns and serial numbers, you name it can be used to smooth out customs and re-entry. Neville hunts with Philip, in Afrikaans instead of in Xhosa as with Nceba, Mr. Jackson or Benj. English is also possible, but they still don’t explain much.
The old Christians said the lessons get harder. Same lesson, too? (Yes, apparently, at a higher level. Now you might want to hang on to the story’s end.)
Meal(s): Gerald se braai. California style (sorta) barbeque / grilling is a national past-time in South Africa. Like Argentina, and maybe more so, they understand meat!
Title idea(s): AT LAST?
Serendipities: Our JEEP battery failed hours before departing to park it for more than a week in Houston near the airport. God often times car repairs for us that way.

VELA 1
Day Two (Oct. 21) began very early. Standing in the back of the truck yesterday, unprotected against sun or wind, I’d gotten my face burnt. I’d brought along a camo face mask archers sometimes use, intended to cover surgical masks worn against asthma, allergies and dust/smoke. It would prove handy in shielding me against further damage, along with camouflaging my face when exposed to animals’ gaze in a hide. (Bandanas in the same pattern also proved useful to both of us as the trip continued.)
I was in no shape to hold a rifle so I prepared to sit back in a camp chair while Philip arranged Pamela’s set-up. Gerald had previously hunted the spot, to no avail, with an archery client, using blood oranges from local farming operations as bait. Baboons had been trashing the lodges at Eland Horing below us, making a spectacular nuisance of themselves. They needed a bit of discouragement!
Using a pre-existing, concrete hide (blind) at Vela overlooking a dam, with a fresh supply of oranges arranged by Gerald, we arrived before first light. Neville dropped us off, retreating down the hill until paged. “Hey, man”, I told him, “the other three baboons will in the hide.” “The smart one is going to be in the bakkie, sleeping and eating chocolate!” Ha, ha! (I told Trinette later that’s why Neville talks to with me, helping with my Xhosa and Afrikaans. “Y’all have to put up with me, but I feed him M&M’s!”)
The first troupe including an alpha male, juveniles, sentries and mothers-with-babies appeared at 6 a.m. Dawn happens by 5 a.m. that time of year, and soon thereafter a noisy Egyptian goose joined pied crows inspecting the joint. Seated in an unfamiliar patio chair, Pamela had to maneuver to prepare for her first shot -- a miss? Hair flew off his back, but he didn’t return with the others, and Philip next selected a large female to take. Her skull mount would have to do, and the second shot was true. While I snapped a few iPhone and digital camera photos of my own, Neville and Philip followed up on the male’s spoor to verify a genuine miss. Then we took real photos. I did a bit of checking the oranges for blood, then went back to rest in the hide.









I’d started to feel a bit more human after brunch and a lie-down, so we tried for hartebeest again, this time wearing boots fitting the conditions. Up top, the hartebeest herd wanted nothing to do with us. So, with the wind picking up – hot weather coming, remember? – we switched to glassing for bushbuck rams from various high points, looking down into the kloofs, under bushes next to open areas, trying to spot movement from bush to bush. Aside from a lone gemsbok, the ubiquitous impala and several kudus seen, the only things close to an inkonka were nyala or bushbuck females. Spotting practice began to feel good – confidence building exercises with Pamela. Nice!
Back at the lodge, Trinette had dinner arranged. I began asking if we could stretch hunting days, add more animals to our list, but leave mid-days open to farm business, touring locally, shopping in P.E. with Gerald and/or Trinette, etc. When I emphasized it was about logistics, not extra costs, things got sorted quite nicely.
Reflection(s): I think it’s medicine messing with my sight, recall and emotions. (Q: “Foul spirit, wilt thou not name thyself?” A: “Metaprolol am I!”)
Meal(s): Venison pie. Pamela wants the recipe. (I want the whole cookbook!)
Title idea(s): ???
Serendipities: Making Neville smile. He’s got Hollywood good looks on camera, but a goofy laugh!



VELA 2
Day Three (Oct. 22) would soon get very hot! Extra animals we’d settled on were maybe a bushbuck or springbok for me, after the hartebeest of course, and a blesbok for Pamela to avenge their interference when stalking zebra! We’d try again for a male Chacma baboon, and if successful Carmen could “do up” the female skull as a cull animal instead. The shield mount would work far better with a big male anyhow.
First, we went after the red hartebeest herd again. Today, however, Gerald had the Blkz farm staff attempting to burn part of the veld. Controlled burns (20% of the mountains each year is a good target) return nutrients to the soil, rid the veld of woody, inedible undergrowth and make room for green grass, raising game numbers at Vela. The top of the mountain being green gives best results. When game stays low, the food supply is rapidly exhausted and the land becomes degraded from over-grazing, Arthur says. Philip normally has farm managing duties when not with clients. It was amusing to hear him stop, shouting “orders” in Xhosa about how they should be going about it. The day was not hot enough, nor the wind strong enough to drive the fire to best advantage. “You look like you’re trying to smoke out bees!” Philip was shouting. “Tomorrow will work better!” and so on. I learned more Xhosa words in their response. “Yebo, baas. Oh-r-r-r-r-ight!” “Okay!” (Heh, heh.)







Our journey to the top gave spectacular views of those Eastern Cape mountains. Especially impressive are the deep ravines (kloofs) in between, impossible for human access yet ideal to hide leopard. Klipspringers can handle anything, as do the mountain reedbuck we saw with them. White blesbok stood out next to their common buddies, but are simply a color phase of the same species. (They didn’t like Pamela at all!)
Of further interest to me was a catchment-based watering system for the wildlife, conserving rain falling in the mountains, metered by hand valves to various holding tanks and level-controlled at drinking troughs. I’d been on one water management project with the Texas Bighorn Society at Black Gap wildlife management area in the Big Bend of West Texas, and recognized some similarities. Game ranching takes expertise, and an old farmer never stops learning how to make it all work better. Nature on its own depends on lightning strikes to burn the veld, and rainfall is never “on schedule” to keep game numbers from wild swings in population. Die-offs are severe and automatic when things are simply left to themselves. Management works.
Temperatures climbed, so it was time for a rest and brunch. (Tomorrow, the hartebeest were sure to be looking for us up top – “Hey, where they at?”) We met Marie, Trinette’s long-time friend, helping organize lodge and office after the season’s end. “You mean your “minder”? I asked, when Trinette introduced us formally. The success at Blkz is due to both Arthur’s business sense and Trinette’s way with people. Efficient, yes. Organized? Well, whatever happens, it will be fun! Sy’s die een!
Philip returned to collect us after the wind switched for the day, back to cooler ocean breezes. Instead of returning to Sunlands, we looked down low for hartebeest, then switched to blesbok as the light began to fade. One herd grazed behind a low sheep fence, with a good ram in it. I waited in the bakkie as the others put on a stalk. On her side of the fence now, off Philip’s shooting tripod, Pamela shot him cleanly. He measures 15” on the right, 14 ½ “on the left.






Reflection(s): Never get on Pamela’s bad list! Pieter, who manages Eland Horing says he sees the hartebeest down low “all the time.” Hmmm.
Meal(s): Eland smothered steak
Title idea(s): HOT!!! (The oils in the succulents burns red! Nice smell, too!)
Serendipities: Blesbok backstrap tasted wonderful later in the week!

VELA 3
Day Four (Oct. 23), acting according to Pieter’s tip, we eventually stalked our hartebeest to a watered flat area, seeing a nyala doe and a warthog along the way. As with Pamela’s zebra and blesbok, Philip and Neville arranged the shooting tripod hidden on the facing side of some bushes. Although a bit shaky from meds, I was well-hydrated and held firm on the herd bull at about 250 yards. Fuzzy thinking had me holding higher than “dead on” his shoulder, remembering my data for 300 yards instead. The shot went high, confirmed by a downrange check for evidence of a hit. None at all, but at least I’d insisted we check. So, Chuck Pinkerton, I had my chance.








Gerald took us shopping in P. E., dropping Trinette and Marie off at the Mercedes dealership to retrieve Mama’s car after 20,000 km service was complete. We’d curio shopped at WEZANDLA, then gone to a nice two-story mall for a few personal items. Gerald had reacted to something in the veld fires so I sorted out some aloe vera soothing gel at a chemist (drug store) for him. Wanted to check my blood pressure, but the pharmacy providing that service nearby had just closed for the day.
A couple bookstores inside the mall had pleasant surprises for me. Deon Meyer’s latest, PROOI (PREY) will be translated into English in a year’s time from now. My favorite author is Frederick Forsyth, and I thought he’d published his auto-biography as his “last.” Well, THE FOX sat right there on the shelf! (Apparently his wife’s admonition that at 79 he was past doing all the dangerous research didn’t hold.)
Dinner that night included the entire Rudman/Dixie tribe – we had leg of impala! Gerald played oom (uncle) as he got climbed, tickled back and generally mobbed. This is a 21-year-old rugby forward built like a train. He prefers Afrikaans, but speaks English better than I! Respectful to a fault, Gerald exemplifies listening and learning. Luister en leer is good advice for me, too. Medicine or not, I’d been too gabby, and needed to let Pamela talk more instead of concentrating on giving correct information.
As part of his degree, he’d developed an interest in birdlife, and I determined to mail my copy of Birds of Southern Africa to his folks’ address, his time at Blkz soon to end in November. It has both English and Afrikaans bird names, and I have other references for our use in identifying birds Pamela and I’ve seen this trip.
Reflection(s): I need to be persistent like Philip with the zebra. BELIEVE!
Listen like Gerald does. Luister en leer. RECEIVE!
Be less forward in Afrikaans society -- hold back on joking.
Relax now, and remember Joe Walsh. (Huh?)
Meal(s): Leg of impala, and melktert for “pudding” as requested by me
Title idea(s): LUISTER EN LEER?
Serendipities: PROOI, and THE FOX

EENSAAM(HEID)
Day Five (Oct. 24) was going to be hot again! Philip said a springbok at Eardley’s Swartrand farming operation was next for me. They have separated populations of the various color phases of springbok, but an undesired common springbok ram had jumped fence into the white springbok area. We must take him out!
Along the way, he asked about my “konk” and .375 H&H story, so I filled him in. We might find a kudu or hartebeest here first, specifically at the Eensaam location. (“Lonesome” in Afrikaans, according to Eardley.) I’d listened to “Trans Karoo” by Herman Holtshauzen on YouTube, including the lyric “eensaamheid” (“loneliness” according to my dictionary) so Eardley is right again. Lonesome it is.
It proved too hot for kudu to move from their shaded hide outs, but springbok remained out in the open. So, using Pamela’s .270 Weatherby with an additional slip-on butt pad to fit me better, we endeavored to take out Mr. Common. Nice ram, really. To shorten the story, seven shots later, I ripped the pad off and told Pamela, “Here!” (Come to think of it, that’s like 2001 at Mabelingwane when she got to shoot that “beeg peeg!”) One more shot and she had her fourth of an eventual five animals! Metaprolol, eh! Oh, he measures 12 ¼” on his best side. And, we have provided game management for Eardley. That’s on top of food for him and Francois, who claim zebra is the best meat. Hey, I exhausted Mr. Common, then Pamela finished it. Teamwork. Awesome.







Knocking off hunting until the evening cool-down, Gerald carried us to the Daniell’s Cheetah Project nearby, much expanded since our visit with the kids in 2007. Along with a people-friendly cheetah, they’d “rescued” two fully maned lions from canned hunting. Across the alley from the lions, three spotted hyenas in their adjacent enclosure elicited a robust challenge from the lions! It still “frightens me in a very old place”, as Robert Ruark explained it, to be near those dreadful jaws!
That evening, Philip started doing something I began to appreciate. We returned to the scene of former successes I’d enjoyed – at Spitskop. Two kudus, plus a duiker taken there adorn my walls at home. In fact, my last kudu was taken with the entire family along. This time, Pamela stayed in the truck while we stalked more kudu, surprised next to the track we’d driven in on. I did well in following Neville and Philip through the dense spekboom, using my Camelbak-sling stud combo again to advantage. The heat and my recovering heart challenged me again, but I did have good footgear and remembered how to negotiate the terrain. Baie goed regeneringe vir my. (Lots of good memories for me.) The full moon showed as we made our way back to the lodge for dinner. Hey, what’s with the cranes? Must be five or so along with the impala, springbok (buh-bye now!) and a lonesome blue wildebeest all by himself. Hmmm…
Plans were firmed up for a return to the baboon hide at Vela. Passop bobbejane! You are on her list, and that just ain’t healthy. I do NOT trust my shooting anyhow…

Reflection(s): HYENAS!!! (And that blue wildebeest sure looks lonesome, something I know a bit about myself.)
Meal(s): Kudu meatballs
Title idea(s): MOON OVER SPITSKOP? EENSAAM(HEID)?
Serendipities: Good memories of success

ALPHA MALE
Day Six (Oct. 25) started very early, way before the heat returned. Neville dropped “the other three baboons” off at the Vela hide/watering hole, noticing with us the oranges were all gone! A second troupe of large males appeared about 20 minutes earlier than that first bunch had. Maybe they’d heard about the free lunch? The leader gave evidence of his status (do I really have to say more?) as the others scoured the remains, and Pamela did him in. Leon Schuster would have described him as being “too much proud!” His skull and fangs are at least double those of the female taken on Day Two! No other measurements were taken -- not fast enough. (Smirk!)
On the way to drop him off for skull mount prep, we picked up a recently road-killed grysbok. Both would make a dandy full-mount for someone when skinned. I thought of Jaco Labuschagne’s song, “Alpha Male” sung in Afrikaans -- used to be a ringtone for me. Mac Davis’ “Oh, LORD, It’s Hard To Be Humble” still comes in second behind Jaco’s tongue-in-cheek offering about male over-confidence. Baboon #2 might have heard about the oranges, but NOT about the lady! That’s five of five now.







Philip carried us to Addo Park for game viewing and more shopping. Elephants and zebras handled the heat better than the hartebeest and kudus seen in the shade, and buffalo were entirely gone to shelter. At Gerald’s recommendation, we lunched at CATTLE BARON, enjoying hake and calamari. (Well, I didn’t eat any bait, but…)
I found a T-shirt in the gift shop that figures into the title for this write-up. A zebra, heart triangle striping prominently featured, is looking with dismay at what’s happening to the back half of his stripes. “STRESSED OUT” and “Unwind in Addo Park” it says. Looks like he is unraveling, to me. I can identify! Very stressed out!







Philip needed to fetch Ollie from school, and asked my wishes for the evening hunt. After all the hiking up mountains, heat, medicine and missing of springbok and hartebeest, I said I just wanted to finish up. A couple hundred bucks more and that blue wildebeest qualified, so we’d head back to Spitskop and collect him. Right? The hunting part would be over and Pamela and I could kill the rest of our time at Blkz in the lodge. She’d certainly had a ball, every bit of it deserved.
On the way back in to Spitskop, the cranes were increased in number, and I began asking more about them. “The blue crane is our national bird,” Eardley had said, proudly. They were not passing through on migration, but make a circuitous route through the same territory according to some mysterious schedule. That’s why there’s more. Let’s see. Die blou krantze. Blue heart. Blue cranes. And, now, a blue wildebeest. That’s a theme, right? Carmen’s article shows jeweled impala and wildebeest skulls, both blue. The hartebeest would have been done in brown, maybe, but that didn’t happen for me. Guess she can do my wildebeest in blue, too. Okay, that’s a plan.
Well, this “poor man’s buffalo” didn’t know about my new plan. Two very large bullets passed through him, apparently hitting nothing important. As with my 2005 bushbuck, Philip told me not to shoot again until he said to. “He will stop at that fence, so wait,” I heard, even though I wanted to sling lead and copper until he was anchored. The low sheep fence proved no barrier at all. Without hesitation, he bounced over it on the way to disappearing from sight. Darkness was falling, and we’d have to let him lie down. Dogs again!! Eardley has a quite good blood-trailing beagle, Alfie, says Philip.
Looking for a dead wildebeest with Alfie along in the morning would add to my hunting experiences. I’ve never witnessed blood spoor tracking at this level, or being there to make any needed finishing shots long after the fact. Remember, Spitskop has no jackals or bush pigs to worry the carcass. Wow! More blue cranes on our way to see what Trinette has cooked up for us -- maybe fifty?


Reflection(s): Remembering 2005 and 2001 safaris, I am again falling short of my own hunting expectations, despite all efforts to prepare and improve. Pamela is still shining! As in 2001, she’s the focus of our combined success, with me in a supporting role. Haven’t I been here before? There’s no way I missed. Dogs again?! Just don’t quit – PERSEVERE!
Meal(s): Gemsbok stroganoff
Title idea(s): ALPHA MALE? No, I don’t think so.
Serendipities: Zebra T-shirt at ADDO
That night, I struggled as I contemplated wounding the wildebeest. Should I have shot again anyway, disobeying my PH? By not doing so in 2005, I had to experience losing an animal, yet shooting at the springbok before Philip said so didn’t result in a hit – it had begun to run, just like the wildebeest today. No, holding off was correct. So, what now? Will I repeat 2005 in losing an animal I now really want? Ag!
What I heard next was, “Barry. Sometimes things have to unravel completely for Me to heal them. Remember John Eldredge and Brent Curtis’ SACRED ROMANCE, and what you began learning in 2001 without a kudu, after the white rhino experience. Also, this time you’ve said, “It all started with a zebra…” and I want to continue honoring your promise made to Me “Onder Die Bosbok Boom” in 2005 after wounding, then losing your first bushbuck. The T-shirt is important.”

ALFIE (“Remember Joe Walsh”)
Day Seven (Oct. 26), after picking Alfie up from Eardley’s place, we returned to the fence. We’d left bandana and tripod to mark “last blood”, and they put on a show following the spoor all morning. Alfie ran patterns into the scrub and re-appeared from time to time, either up the road or back for water breaks. Neville carried on tracking hoof prints and blood drops, ranging far ahead of where we observed in the bakkie, or caught up and followed Philip as he, too, followed spoor. Pamela’s eyes are fine, and I had issues. However, we’d spot drops along the way, and got quite a good picture of the talent being shown, instead of just reading about it in books. They did not guess!

I took a photo of where the wildebeest had jumped into the spekboom for an evening lie-down, leaving abundant sign. I laid a flag there, saved from a Brooks Brothers concert, and I had waved it a couple times in victory while we were Nazarenes. (Guess it is a surrender flag right now. I’ve carried it so long in my hunting backpack, it is a goner.)
The trail showed him jumping back out in the morning, probably Alfie’s doing. Beagles don’t “give tongue” like hounds do, so no howls to work from there. I guess he’d bark if the wildebeest bayed, but that never happened. Finally, atop the next ridge at a watering tank, Neville and Philip confirmed one last drop of bleed. That finished the morning effort, and the likelihood of a recovery. Mr. Alfie, thank you, sir. It was a pleasure watching you three work!
Returning that evening, ostensibly to try following the spoor after the water trough, Philip and Neville carried on a while until it became obvious. We were done. That’s when something extra-ordinary happened for me in particular. Philip’s idea for a final grand tour of Spitskop cemented old memories, adding scenes of compelling beauty to wrap up my time with Pamela at Blaauwkrantz Safaris. I’ll try to describe it.
My friend, Larry Adams, started me reading John Eldredge. I’ve continued to hear God singing to me, described so poignantly in SACRED ROMANCE. Tonight, I heard the singing again, and will try my best (as Joe Walsh says) to tell what I experienced. Remember the wind-burn and bandanas? I was profoundly sad about leaving Africa behind, losing another animal, and my 2018 safari achievements. This time the bandana over my face was to hide emotion.
Kudu and impala gloriously streamed up the green ravines of Spitskop at dusk. Those blou krantze turned a smoky pink, mingled with the blue and rosy sunset. We bounced through many of the interior tracks of the property, as Philip obviously now was helping me review good memories. I will never forget it! And, most spectacular of all were hundreds of blue cranes displaying on the ground, and through the sky, calling to one another as our time at Blaauwkrantz Safaris came to a close. The beauty pierced my soul, re-wounding me like nothing before. I hid tears about my father, my journey through the world of work, feelings of having failed at America, the heart operation and adventures in medication, and so on. My bandana was wet around my eyes, and I was saying the whole time; “Let it go/Let it go.” (Okay, somewhere I hear a “Dad, please don’t!” I promise, I can’t sing the song in FROZEN. Never even seen the Disney movie. It will be oh-r-r-r-r-ight. Yebo, baas!) Unravel me, LORD!
There’d be no Gerald tonight, and no Philip tomorrow. Gerald had a school function to attend, and Philip would be occupied with Jack and Ollie at cricket matches. We planned finishing up at the Rudman’s DOLPHIN NOOK condos, shopping and a final lunch with Gerald after arranged a shuttle to pick us up, to take us in the morning back to the airport in P.E.

Reflection(s): Hunting at 62 – sight is an issue. Open my eyes LORD. Also, my vision isn’t so good without my wife, both literally and figuratively. I keep wondering what problem will appear, to try and wipe this experience from my mind? (So far, it’s only the air-con in my car back home. Freon has leaked out again.) I’ve come a far piece since that hospital bed. But, in our photos of Pamela’s trophies I just see a tired, old man on medicine next to her. I must still remember the ADDO T-shirt – I am smiling about this trip!
I’ve helped lift a zebra (10/20), climbed after hartebeests (10/20-23) and, on the way to P.E., pushed a car out of the road with Gerald (10/27). All in three months after open-heart surgery. My heart is good and open, LORD. Thank you for my life!
Meal(s): Koeksisters as a sweet treat. Thanks, Mama!
Title idea(s): SUNSET AT SPITSKOP?
Serendipities: Xhosa <--> Afrikaans. I got to have fun with both
Birds everywhere + flowering veld “after the season”
Mama Trinette to ourselves; she is the one!
RSA <--> Texas; HOT vs. COLDER swapped around
South African cooking (Cookbook later bought at JNB)
Questions: Will Philip and staff find the blue wildebeest?
Where’s the MY KUDU moment to follow this loss?
Why are there no achievement photos of me alone?
What happened to BELIEVE! RECEIVE! and PERSEVERE!?
[Comment: In the SACRED ROMANCE, John Eldredge explains what God is up to in the lives of those open to His attention. He sings to us in scenes of beauty, as He also does through our pain, drawing us to Himself. Experiences John calls “Arrows of Wounding” are allowed to open past wounds, suffered at the hands of others. These often come from important people and events in our life, and are intended by Satan to discourage or even eliminate us from experiencing God’s love. Re-wounding by God must precede true healing of what’s been hidden and festering below the surface, often since childhood. What God intends for your life cannot proceed without deep healing.
I’ve already related past frustration, then fulfillment about rifle hunting in Africa (BARRY!) My “catty” became the .375 Weatherby Brno carried again in 2018, having been successful in collecting several animals with a .300 H&H Remington 721 in 2005 and 2007. In 2001, the .375 claimed a modest warthog trophy, while Pamela’s .270 Weatherby Mark V accounted for a massive, long-toothed monster. I planned for something bigger this time, a hartebeest and maybe more bushbuck. Blue wildebeest were never on the list for me, but I now have shot one, twice.
That 2001 experience found me similarly devastated, heading back home without my priority animal, in that case a kudu. Hunting at Blaauwkrantz fixed that – twice. As in 2005, when losing a wounded bushbuck, I again feel a hunter’s dismay, both in missing my priority animal and that I’ve hurt and lost “my” wildebeest. No, I don’t feel a failure. I’ve succeeded before, and now have no more regrets about rifle hunting in Africa. I had my chance with my own .375 and a “konk”, but missed cleanly.
At this writing it’s two weeks since “my” wildebeest was last seen. A scope check has confirmed both loads and rifle are good. He’s dead somewhere, or very sick, and Carmen will have to use “own stock” for my decorated in blue wildebeest trophy of our 2018 return to Blkz. You know, like Nceba’s pick up bushbuck skull that became MY FAVORITE TROPHY (see p. 123 of MY NAME IS BARRY!)]
Folks, for those of you still reading, thank you. The hunting part is over, as are the photos”. Remember Joe Walsh” needs a bit of explaining, and he is very much alive. I bumped into a YouTube interview of him describing why his life had to change, from hard-drinking rocker to family man. I knew of the Eagles, his involvement in their success, and so on. I was completely taken with his open demeanor, frankness and clarity in the interview. Beginning with a story of how “Life’s Been Good” came to be written and popularized, I watched other videos of his work. How had I missed him? As I have been banging out this report, I might have listened to a hundred or so hours of Joe Walsh tunes. “Remember Joe Walsh” is a reminder to me to be open and honest, too. There’s no preachiness, I hope, but my life matters to me in the same way.

Reflection(s): SACRED ROMANCE. See list of past examples, refreshed in RSA.
Meal(s): COACHMAN restaurant and kingklip. (Blue Waters Café in 2005, “cod-something” was “kob” a.k.a. kabeljou). See list at end of write-up for South African fish names.
Title idea(s): UNRAVELING? (Yes!)
Serendipities: Blue cranes, blue wildebeest, blue heart, blue cliffs. Peace now.
So, I heard from God. He is calling, speaking words of comfort, answering my question “why.” Peter Cammarano, our pastor, says we must follow our “why”, rather than serving God out of duty. It’s the same lesson as before, in 2001, but at Level 2 now. My purpose is to help Pamela shine, as Jesus does His bride, the church. (And, if my daughters don’t see their dad trusting God, how will they know it is all-important?) I must trust God will lead me, after first unraveling what needs to be let go.
Dr. Bahradi spoke aloud to Pamela, after finding two of three arteries to my heart blocked 100%: “Wonder why he is still alive?” I’d be fascinated to know the answer myself! For me, the old way of thinking died that day. I must take a different approach now that He has indicated I’m to stay. God is still speaking to my heart, and I must listen. Change my heart, LORD. “Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.“ Jeremiah 17:14 King James Version (KJV). Amen.



FINAL THOUGHTS:
Hey, I wonder if there’s a Level 3 next? That Brooks Brothers flag in the photo where the wildebeest lay overnight? It has a history. You’d have to ask me about New Orleans and witnessing to Dan-Dan the Shoeshine Man after he flimflammed me there, one time. It also worked as a surrender flag this trip. If we get to visit Arthur sooner than eleven years from now, I’ll have to get me a new bandana!
We travelled back to Clute, October 28 and 29. Some highlights for me were –
1. Finding South African Cookbook at JNB, shopping before boarding Flight 209. I was really impressed at Mama’s cooking, particularly meat dishes, and hope to learn a few things. At the WIMPY inside the P.E. airport I enjoyed “Twice as Nice” peri-peri chicken with pap and shebo (grits and relish.)
2. Travelling with guns is a hassle now! (See feedback to Linda Falcon below.)
3. In-flight entertainment screen shot: “FLYING TO YOUR NEXT BEGINNING” - SAA


SOME LISTS:
a) Past examples of SACRED ROMANCE “songs” refreshed in RSA –
Night sounds. I used to get up around midnight to listen for nightjars singing, hyenas calling, and African snipe “whooshing” in dive-bombing mating ritual flights out in the marshes near our Leimo mission station. We heard them again at Blkz.
Birds. Bruce’s green pigeons/Ethiopian birds at Bishoftu, Langano, Durami, etc. Coming after the season at Blkz, in the heat, there’s familiar birds everywhere!
Pamela! Bingham Academy and Rift Valley Academy heartaches are long gone. Now, I share childhood treasures with her in South Africa.
Music itself, including “non-sacred” genres. Ethiopian “jazz”, South African (Afrikaans) YouTube artists, and now Joe Walsh (along with past favorites, especially the Doobie Brothers.)
b) South African marine fish names –
Galjoen “black bream”
Kingklip “cusk eel”
Kabeljou (“kob”) Looks kind of like a huge speckled trout-redfish cross.
Hake “cod”
Geelbek “Cape salmon”
Snoek “snake mackeral” Kind of a kingfish/wahoo/barracuda. NOT a snook.
Yellowtail This is an amberjack, not the tuna.

Lodge dining/sitting

Dream kudu, braai side of sitting

Five roses and biscuits at Mama’s again!

Aardvark’s are huge!

Patio outside our room; hearing nightjars again

Tuin (garden) weaver and other birds again

Pamela, ready to hunt

Barry, “chest meat” is gone: hot and burnt!

Hartebeest country up top

Die blou krantze

Zebra crew

She did it!

Glassing for bushbuck

Camelbak

Government land and carry-over burn

Catchment system check

Pamela’s flowers

Good ole Copper!

Female @ Daniell’s Cheetah Project

Chuck and Norris. No, really.

HYENA!!

All smiles. (Sorry.)

Surrender flag

Grrrrrrrr!!!!

Carmen’s work

Mr. Alfie

Blue cranes

Rhino apron. Remember 2001 white rhino bull incident

Alyssa’s wreck: November 8, 2018. She’s fine.

Thanks for the report. I'm glad to hear your recovery went well enough and fast enough that you could make the trip. Best wishes making a complete recovery!

Wow! Quite the story. Congratulations on the recovery and spectacular hunt.
Thanks for sharing.

Ski+3
Whitefish, MT

Is that Phillip at Blaukrantz? I hunted with him years ago, and see his wife Zani (Suzanne) at the DSC every year.

Aw, yeah. I call him 'umfundisi wam' because he IS my teacher. Zani and her brothers have absolutely smashing kids, because they have all married well. (Sorry for gushing, but I've come to love the Rudman/Dixie clan.)

Thanks for the replies, guys. Two days off that metaprolol stuff and my thinking has accelerated, emotions lowered, memory clear.

Tough hunt but great photos. Best of luck with your recovery.

Some beautiful pictures, nice trophies and a great hunt report.

Thanks to all!

Barry

Barry,

Delightful report and good to see you and your wife having fun in Africa. Thanks for the great photos and some fine trophies there.

Thanks for the thoughtful report and lovely photos.
Glad you are better, stay fit and hunt more!

Good stuff Barry.