Operator: Ndumo Safaris
PH: Karl Stumpfe
Location: Khaudum North Safari Camp, Namibia
Dates: October 26th to November 13th including travel
Travel Arrangements: Steve Turner and Susan at Travel with Guns
Airlines: SAA from JFK to Johannesburg to Windhoek and Air Namibia from Windhoek to Rundu
Rifles: Verney-Carron 600 Nitro Express, Verney-Carron 375 Flanged Magnum, Remington 700Ti 300 SAUM. Back-up – Weatherby Custom Safari .416 Weatherby Magnum.
Ammo: 600NE – Cutting Edge Bullets 900g #13 solid at 2,049fps; 375Fl – CEB #13 300g solid/CEB#13 Non-Con; 300SAUM – 150g Barnes TTSX.

Wednesday October 26th
Thanks to Susan and Steve of Travel with Guns, we were all set for our journey from JFK. They provided a thorough booklet with everything we needed to know and do not ionly regarding the flights, but just about anything we might wonder about the trip, the places we would be going, the problems we might face and who to contact if there were any problems. Really outstanding service that removed any concerns about forgetting something. 16 hours from JFK to Johannesburg, 4 hour layover then 2 hour flight to Windhoek. Bags checked all the way through and we had learned from the last trip through that not all of the coffee shops use the same exchange rate …

Thursday October 27th
Arrived in Windhoek the morning of the 27th and after an hour worth of paperwork and gun inspection we met Karl who had been waiting for us in the airport. After a round of handshakes Karl loaded our bags onto a trolley then into a Mitsubishi Pajero that he had borrowed from his friend Uys (pronounced Ace) and made off for the Hotel Safari where we would spend a night before our flight to Rundu. Stopped off at a local taxidermists shop – HOLY MACKERAL!!! Great stuff there. We went to dinner with Karl and Uys. Gemsbok steak and local beer was outstanding and by now pop and I were ready to crash. A quick shower for each of us and the next thing I remember was getting up at 5 to catch a quick breakfast then our flight at 7 for Rundu.

Friday October 28th
The flight that was supposed to occur at 7 was rescheduled for noon then, due to some pilot meeting, was questionable at all. Not sure if it was going to take off at all before the following Monday. We decided to begin the 12 hour drive to our camp instead. About an hour into the drive Karl received a call that the flight was on and leaving at noon so back to the airport and into the air we went.

With a 4 hour drive from Rundu to camp ahead of us, we grabbed a quick bite, fueled up and were off again into the Kalahari. A few hours after pavement turned to sand, we arrived at camp. A tent with a bed each for dad, myself and Karl; thatch roofed dining area, water closet and shower; as well as the obligatory fire pit completed Karl’s most primitive safari camp just as we had requested. His “most primitive” camp still had running hot and cold water as well as generator-powered lighting that went off at around 8:30PM.

Saturday October 29th
Up at 4AM quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and coffee; loaded a pair of Zeiss 8x32s, water and Lil Ernest into my pack and we were off in search of elephant track.

The rainy season had yet to start – a few weeks delayed already and a fire in August had wiped out much of the vegetation that would have otherwise fueled the movement of elephant from Botswana and Khaudum National Park into our conservancy but we were in high spirits as the safari began in earnest. A few bulls ambled through in the wee hours but trudged on through back to the safety of the “neutral zone” before we arrived. Leopard, lion, giraffe, kudu, roan and warthog left their impressions but nary an elephant to be seen.

We checked our leopard baits and found two had been hit. A quick check of the trail cameras showed a nice cat had visited at 2:10AM and left at 4:30AM. Not shooting hours but if Mr. Spots liked the table fare last night, maybe he would return early and stay later. We broke for lunch as the temperatures crested 39 with a plan to resume search for Jumbo in the afternoon.

Sunday October 30th
Same plan, same results except the trail cameras told us that our Leopard was getting comfortable with his dinner arrangements. Came in two hours earlier, left at 2, retuned at 4 and left at 5:30 … If this pattern continued, we just might get a shot either late in the day or early in the morning …

By late morning we learned that our elephant – some with mighty big feet (and you know what they say about big feet and tusk size …) liked to visit our hunting grounds but preferred a night time rendezvous to daylight meetings. After lunch we decided to take a ride through Khaudum Park.

Virtual sea of elephants. Hundreds upon hundreds! Charged by two cows who backed off after some hand waving and truck-thumping several yards from the Cruiser. Roan and kudu were in evidence and three lion made an appearance at the edge of the long grass. Blended in perfectly and had we not seen them stalk along the sandy edges of the yellow grass, we would never have spotted them. The elephant were too haughty to notice but the kudu and roan were keenly aware.

As we inspected the elephant, one old tusker stood out. Karl was pegged on this guy and said – “There’s the one you want.” “How big?” “Over 70 pounds, maybe near 80.”

We continued on our adventure enjoying the teaming game but minds on that big bull that needed only wander a few miles at the right time …

Monday October 31st
Breakfast of cereal (dad had his bacon, eggs and toast again) and coffee and once again we were off. Same drill – scout for and track elephant. Now there were three bulls, one with giant feet but in and out of our area in the middle of the night. Trail cameras told a heart-warming story of the leopard, though. Early arrival at just before 10PM and returned for the Venetian Hour about 5AM.

EXCELLENT!!!

The bait was refreshed and blind built in less than 30 minutes. 50 yards to the limb that cradled the hock on which we hoped our leopard would dine during daylight hours. Our plan was to arrive by 2:30PM and wait. If he didn’t show during daylight, we would leave well after dark to avoid disturbing him. The hope was that as he became more comfortable in the arrangement, he would be less cautious and tip his hand when we could actually see it. At 7:20PM we decided he wasn’t showing – at least not when we could introduce him to a .375Flanged CEB #13 Non-Con.

Tuesday November 1st
Trail cams showed our boy had shown up at 7:50PM last night and later left. BUT he did return and stayed on station until 5:47:52 AM – sunlight on the way baby!

We switched gears from elephant to focus on leopard and built a new blind a bit further away – one that gave a better angle and view of the bait, his approach and took better advantage of the wind at the time we would be sitting. After completing out hideout, we searched for elephant track as we had for the last few days. Getting frustrated that we had not yet seen an elephant in our conservancy I tried to focus on the more difficult game – the leopard and the opportunities we now faced.

We entered our Easy-Bake oven at 2PM and sweated. And waited. And sweated while waiting.

Something swished through the long grass at our 10:00 position … and then the unmistakable sound of crampons biting into tree bark filled the air. The sun was bowing on the horizon but still fully round as I whispered to my father:
“Take the shot”

The Verney-Carron double roared as the leopard looked straight into my eyes.

He was dead before falling from the limb.

A slap on the back and “He’s dead” before even leaving our blind, Karl trotted over to the spot where the great cat lay unseen. “Great shot. Great, great shot! Come on over, he is dead.”

It was a great shot – just behind the right shoulder, it sheared the great vessels off the top of the heart and exited through the mid-left shoulder leaving a challenge for the taxidermist and made current jelly of the internals.

The sun was settling into its bed as we shook hands all around. I gave dad a hug and pat on the back as Karl drifted away to allow us to reflect on our experience in silence – something I truly appreciate. He radioed the trackers and 30 minutes later the Cruiser’s lights made their appearance - far off but approaching. Karl wanted to move to an area that would show our leopard in the manner befitting such a regal creature. Nearly an hour later we were ready for pictures. About 2 ½ hours had elapsed from the shot to the photos but we enjoyed the opportunity to relive the moments and climb down from the adrenaline mountain on which we both sat.

Yodice Safari Part II

Wednesday November 2nd

Last night was simply – overwhelming. You know how it is – a truly successful hunt with all of the emotions that go along with it; the telling and re-telling of the adventures leading up to it; the vivid re-living of that moment. We talked, laughed and basked in the afterglow of what was to have been the most difficult part of our hunt – the leopard. As is so often the reality, a lot of hard work, a great deal of expertise, a fair amount of perseverance and a dash or three of luck are all necessary to make it come together – as it had for us.

I know nothing except what I have read in books as well as on the internet and seen in DVDs about leopard hunting. Little in what I had studied really explained the art and science of hunting leopard. I would do an injustice to Karl Stumpfe to try to stumble through the explanation but dad and I were enthralled as Karl explained and showed us the specific things he looked for, considered and decided upon before choosing a tree in which to put bait. His thoroughness was yet more evident when we chose both the first and then the second blind and the reasons for the switch. There is more than luck to doing this and Karl demonstrated and explained some of the stuff it takes to do it right.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” asked Karl knowing what we had in mind …

We decided to sleep in a bit and take the day off to relax and recover. Yes we had an elephant to hunt as well as a gemsbok but we really hadn’t taken a moment to simply enjoy the Africa that we had come to know and love. We needed it – body, mind and soul. We read and relaxed and enjoyed the African sun, sand and heat. Speaking of reading, did I mention I had lent my father a copy of Death in the Long Grass? He was about half way through and I realized that this might not be the best place or the best time to read that particular book.

“Dad, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to give you that book while we slept in tents surrounded by leopard, hyena and lion, not to mention elephant.”

“Yeah, you’re right but too late now” as he read on …

Later in the evening, our appetizer was … leopard. Made sort of like chicken tenders it tasted like … well like chicken tenders. Far more tender than I would have expected, it was delicious. Even after we knew what it was. LOL.

A couple of beers and some “light cider” (3% alcohol – two of them had my head spinning. Yeah I know, I’m a lightweight) a glass or two of wine, dinner came and went – it was superb as it had been every night – showered and time to hit the sack for tomorrow was time to work for jumbo.

Thursday November 3rd

We went in search of track and found plenty. The rain had come yesterday. It took me a bit of time to wrap my mind around this and it seemed counter intuitive but Karl explained it to me in simple terms that even I could understand – on his third try …

“It’s been dry for a long time. We had fires a month ago and there is limited water. The elephant will stay near the water they know and not wander about much. Elephant are like little children in the rain – they like to walk around, explore and splash as much as they can. When the rains come, they will be in better mood to leave the water that they know and look for places elsewhere.”

So it was – far more track this morning than we had seen in all of the previous week combined. A couple of bulls, one big and plenty of cows and little ones. Karl was happy to show us how to differentiate a bull track from cow and using his own boot, how to determine a good from a great bull.

We tracked a pair of bulls and as we walked we came across a young cow and her calf. Apparently she didn’t like peeping Toms and made for us with great haste and venom, veering away only as her baby made off at a tangent. She kept an eye on us as her calf made off at a tangent. Clearly it was her decision that her baby was safe rather than anything we were doing that changed her direction. Exciting!!!

After tracking our bulls back to the Botswana border we headed back to retrieve the trail cameras we had distributed.

I guess Elephant can see infrared …

All we found of one of the cameras was a piece of plastic about ½” square. The tree on which it had been mounted was broken in half precisely where the camera had been strapped and elephant track abounded. Four trackers searched diligently and found nothing more. It would have been interesting to see what might have been captured on the SD card. We returned to camp during the hottest part of the day, ate lunch, did some reading (dad still engrossed in Death in the Long Grass) and were back at it that afternoon, spirits and expectations high given the events and sign earlier in the day.

Same as we had seen earlier and on previous days … there were bulls – a few that raised our pulse and blood pressure – but they were in and out of our area through the night. Karl decided to send his best man – Gottfried who was a Hunting Guide – to his camp in Sobbe. A four to five hour drive each way, the plan was to check if the elephant were moving more in that area and if so, at what times. If Sobbe looked more promising, we would move camp. Though we had more than a week left to this safari, Karl wanted us to have options and said the decision was ours. I simply told Karl that I trusted his advice and whatever he thought was the best move is the one we would pursue. I reminded Karl that both my father and I fully understood we were hunting not shooting; that we were thrilled beyond words with everything; that the leopard was a highlight we couldn’t beat; and that no one knew better than us that hunting success isn’t only measured by the game that is taken. My father echoed those sentiments entirely.

Friday November 4th

Gottfried was off to Sobbe and we were off in search of elephant. It had rained last night and that buoyed our spirits as did the track we found and followed but the results were the same – reminds me of that burger chain in California. Our thoughts gradually drifted towards Gottfried and the report he would be able to give sometime tonight as we viewed the carnage caused by the August fires.

After lunch we decided to drive through Khaudum Park again. It was teaming with elephant.

We saw that monster bull – the 80 pounder we had seen on our previous visit. Then we saw his big brother… Karl’s Cannon was in rapid-fire mode as he snapped dozens of photos of this behemoth.

“Look at this one!”

“How big?”

(Above is the photo of the 70 pounder …)

“Over 90 pounds, maybe 100.”

Looked to be over 4 ½ feet long and Karl said about 22” – 23” at the lip. Man oh man. Then we saw a third giant – a bit thinner tusks but long and swooping.

“70 – 80 pounds”

“I’d take any of the three but my order is Big Daddy, Long Tooth then the 70-80 pounder.”

Karl’s preference swapped the 2nd and 3rd.

“Karl, I’d be thrilled with that one too.” I said of one he told me was about 35- 40 pounds.

We had our fourth charge – another mock charge by a cow that was a bit cheeky.

The next was no bluff. This guy wanted to show us who was boss and nearly succeeded. No amount of banging, hollering or “standing tall” dissuaded him from his mission to make puree of our entourage. The trackers high in the truck were banging yelling and screaming. Karl was doing the same as he drove the accelerator pedal through the floorboards yet the bull was gaining. When the elephant felt we were chastised well enough, he abruptly called off his pursuit; the only sound the laughing cacophony from above our heads.

Several hundred pictures later we were on our way back to camp for snacks, dinner, wine a shower and bed. Decisions still to be made, we waited for Gottfried. The report was that Sobbe elephant were moving but no more so than what we were seeing in Khaudum. My decision was to stay put and keep hunting as we had which was echoed by dad and Karl himself. The rains were picking up; we had seen some monsters and plenty of great bulls; ground evidence was that they were beginning to move; and we had more than a week of hunting ahead left to us.

Saturday November 5th

“Damn it!” Patience IS one of my virtues but this was disappointing. We were onto fresh tracks that lead from the Botswana boarder into our conservancy in Khaudum. As we followed, we soon realized that it looped back into Bots.

Hands thrown into the air, heads shaking, multilanguage swear words whispered, one of the trackers walked head-down lateral to the elephant’s direction of travel; first to the left, then the right. About 50 yards into his search, he called out to the three other trackers and Karl. The gist of the discussion that ensued was that three bulls, one of them a “good one” had re-crossed back into our area. Must have liked the salad on this side of the fence.

My pulse soared as Karl said “Grab your 600 and lets go!”

I loaded two 900 grain CEB#13 solids into the double and snapped it closed; made sure it was on safe and stalking safety was in place. I grabbed the V-C 375Fl Mag, dropped in two solids and handed it to dad. I managed to remember to switch on the video camera I had cable-tied to my hat and we were off.

As I type this I can feel the butterflies swarming in my belly, bongos thrumming in my temples, a little constriction in my chest – and it is two weeks after the event!

We caught a glimpse of three bulls about a mile into the track. They were on the move away from us. Clearly one was bigger in body and tusk than either of the other two. He was also farthest away and beginning a wide arc – in the direction of Botswana. We moved quickly – I was Karl’s shadow and dad mine. We did our best to close the gap and did so in time to take a look through our glass.

I had already made up my mind – this elephant was a monster. To me, the elephant shattered all of my notions of “BIG” and the tusks, regardless of their actual size, exceeded my every wish and expectation. I had found more than I had anticipated.

Nevertheless, I had the presence of mind to ask Karl:
“What do you think?”

“That bull is a good one, 45 pounds at least.”

I knew I had a week ahead but this guy was all that I could ask - and in my heart, much more. I didn’t give the really big guys we had seen yesterday a second thought – this one was my trophy

OUR trophy.

Its sheer size and its tusks were both the stuff of which my dreams were made and by comparison to its two mates, it just don’t get any better or bigger than this … I found exactly the elephant I wanted and said so to Karl.

Karl repeated “That’s a good bull. We might be able to find bigger but you never know. It’s up to you, we have a week left, but it’s up to you.”

I had already made up my mind but Karl’s assurance that he was a “good bull” sealed the deal for me.

We hurried forward; slipping between the thorns and scrub, utilizing every bit of cover to close the gap.

40 yards …

30 …

20 …

18 yards as I side-stepped to the left of our cover.

Raising the 600NE, I flipped off the safety. I had a great shot – of his right hip. He was quartering away and little window to his brain.

Turning his head a bit to his right opened that window to his brain just a crack and …

Baboom!!!

Our bull went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes.

“Thwump” two fresh rounds refilled the chambers then into the side of his head while another gun fired simultaneously. Our elephant rolled to the right; his sleep final.

Dad was beaming, radiating pure happiness. It was he that took the other shot. This truly was OUR bull and I could not be happier – for both of us.

Karl shook our hands and left us to enjoy the peace and quiet we now solemnly shared with our elephant. What an experience. I read the signature lines of so many of you who have hunted elephant.

I understand …

As Karl and our trackers returned, the merriment exploded outward from all parties. The retelling of the experience took on biblical reverence as we re-lived every moment in exquisite detail.

“Great shooting – by both of you.”

I now began the task of berating myself – to Karl and my father’s consternation.

It was a tough angle at about 18 paces. My first shot traveled through the entire skull from the thickest part of the back of the skull to rest under the skin of the opposite temple.

The elephant went straight down with that first shot …

But I had missed the brain.

Damn it.

Damn it!

I replayed that shot, the angle, where I was aiming, when I squeezed the trigger. Maybe I should have waited …

My father dragged me out of my self-flagellation and re-infused the thrill, excitement and happiness that this moment deserved.

Karl asked:
“Did you double on that first shot?”

“I don't think so …”

On reflection, I had indeed strummed both triggers. I now remembered dropping two fresh rounds in after the first shot as both chambers had ejected.

Interestingly, I didn't realize I had doubled. I had never doubled it before and I had extensively practices shooting both barrels as fast as I could, reloading and doing the same. Never happened before but it seemed like it did this time.

There were no theatrics - the double didn't fly out of my hands, the barrels weren't pointed straight up, I didn't fall on my ass, I am not paralyzed from the recoil, etc.

So much for all of the B.S. about doubling a 600NE.

To be perfectly honest, I have experienced buck fever exactly once in my life - in 1976 with the first deer (a doe) I ever had in my sights. Not with any buck; not with any elk, not with any Cape buffalo, kudu, wildebeest or impala; not with the leopard. I never get nervous in the worst medical situations or when speaking to thousands in a lecture hall.

I once again felt "buck fever" when I was lining up on this elephant - the first I had ever seen in the flesh at stone-throwing distance. I don’t think that is why I missed the brain – but it probably contributed to it.

But here we were and the celebration continued as the villagers came in droves.

6 villages would have sustenance for some time to come.

Here is our bull’s heart:

And for my gastroenterologist friend Bill Shear here is the liver:

We picked up several more villagers and in a few hours the elephant meat was ready for distribution. We, along with the Chief of the Conservancy delivered truckloads of elephant to three villages while Gottfried in another truck did the same to three others.

At the end of the day, the exuberant joy evolved into mellow, peaceful fulfillment.

Part III – Gemsbok

Sunday November 6th

Yesterday was thrilling beyond description. Tumbling from the adrenaline-induced summit brought with it the deep fatigue that comes only from life-altering exhilaration. We were satiated and exhausted. Sleep came easily - after a great meal accompanies by ethanol chaperone.

Wait …

Did I mention the drive back to camp with the elephant head on the back of the Cruiser?

Well … THAT was another “exciting” experience altogether …

Maybe exciting can’t capture the reality …

After toiling for some hours to butcher and deliver elephant meat, the massive skull with intact tusks was loaded on the back of Karl’s Cruiser through the brute force of several trackers. Karl, Dad, Gottfried and I piled into the cab of the laden truck while 4 trackers climbed atop its well-appointed perch. Thus began the triumphant return to camp along the washboard surfaces of the Khaudum desert. Keeping the pace to a crawl, the cruiser’s suspension rode on the bump stops over the moguls - which meant while we “insiders” played kissy-face with the roof, the “upstairs” passengers practiced for the Cirque du Soleil with the roil of the “road”.

“Quite a herd of elephant over there.”
“Isn’t that where we had one of our trail cameras? The one that was crushed?”

About 100 yards off to our right as we crept along we admired a panoramic view of elephant enjoying their dinner as the sun set.

We passed the diners … and she came.

Hard, fast and hell bent on exacting pay for the photo we took but never recovered. Either that or she didn’t like the fact we smelled like dead elephant.

This was no joke, no bluff and no holds barred. She closed as Karl urged the overloaded Cruiser onwards and occasionally upwards. Pounding fists on metal, yells, hoots, hollers and screams. She didn’t let up. Head down, ears back, trunk curled she barreled onwards as her harem, trunks ahigh and ears unfurled like mainsails, trumpeted their encouragement. In Brooklyn, NY the crowd would be shouting “Hit em!!!”

As the gap closed – visions of my elephant stalk in reverse – 50, 40, 30, 20 yards …
The truck kneeled as Karl swapped brake for accelerator pedal, grabbed his 450 Rigby and I my 600 and we tumbled out. “Stay inside” I told dad – he of course did not listen or perhaps did not hear me so came out with the 375 in hand. 30 yards between us – she was massive and she was mad. We stared at each other … With a snort and trumpet she gave us the bird and a “Hmmmppphhh!!!” and gathered her flock, certainly telling them she had shown us who was boss. And she had.

“I would have hated to put a bullet in her but that bitch had it coming. I bet she is the one who took out the camera. I would have put a bullet above her head if she started again but no choice to put one into her head if she kept coming after that. You never know with these old girls. If she hadn’t stopped when we did, it would have been to close for anything but a brain shot.”

Sliding the 450 back into its dash-mounted scabbard but never taking his right hand off of it, Karl watched the throng as we climbed in and on the Cruiser. We continued on to camp yet more weary but equally animated as the balcony crowd recounted the events punctuated with fist, foot and head thumps on the Cruiser’s body. I didn’t understand a word of it but there was no mistaking the content.

Back to our regularly schedule program – Sunday, November 6th

We awoke to discuss the plans for the upcoming week. Did we really have a full week left? Karl ran through the game available on quota though dad and I were really interested only in Gemsbok. I mean … we had a great leopard and fantastic elephant … what more could we want? OK, yeah, yeah, I know, plenty but realistically we wanted to TRY to stick to our original menu and not worry about what to sell when we returned home in order to pay for the game we had not banked on taking. Again.

We decided to stick with the Oryx (again, I corrected myself every time I was about to say “Gemsbok” for reasons previously described) and for that a trip was necessary. Plans were made to drive to Katima Mulilo airport by way of Karl’s Sobbe camp to drop off the elephant head with tusks as well as femur and skin. There it would be buried again to make the eventual tusk pulling easier and then on to Windhoek for dip and pack. Sunday was a day of re-packing, organizing and basically catching up on stuff in anticipation of the next leg of our journey. AND THE RAINS CAME!

Since dad and I had fulfilled the dream we both had for this trip we discussed and ultimately decided to find out if we could return home a day or two earlier than had been planned. As it was, we would return on Sunday and we both had to be back on the job Monday morning. An additional day might not matter but two or three would be enough to recover before hitting the bricks. I sent a text to Steve Turner and to Susan of Travelwithguns requesting info on that possibility. I got word that if we headed out Thursday we could be home Friday morning. I had a brief discussion with Karl about the reality of Gemsbok (OK OK - Oryx, dammit) by Thursday and the logistics of leaving then instead of Saturday. Though he was confident neither would be a problem hunting was hunting after all and as such there were no guarantees. Dad and I were satisfied and excited.

Monday November 7th

We hit the road by 5AM so that we drive the 4-5 hours needed to Sobbe then to catch the noon flight from Katima Mulilo to Windhoek via Rundu. All proceeded in the fashion all of you come to expect. Thank God Karl was with us to expedite. Explanations probably not necessary. Eventually we were again on our way and soon in Eros and then onto Arebbusch Square. Karl had recommended this instead of the Safari Court or Hotel Safari and he was 1,000% correct. Not only less expensive per night than either Safari Court or Hotel but MUCH nicer. Modern and clean, with excellent air conditioning I might add, a landscaped courtyard with a pristine pool, nice restaurant, inexpensive laundry service. It reminded me of a nice resort in Florida or Palm Springs! Ahhhh!!! We settled in took our showers and readied for a dinner out with Karl and Uys.

Tuesday November 8th

Tuesday was a day we decided to gather information, apply for gemsbok permit and do some souvenir shopping in Windhoek.

Wednesday November 9th

Following breakfast of omelet’s, bacon, toast and coffee in the Arebbusch Square version of Denny’s, we collected out permit and a Cruiser; donned out pith helmets and jodhpurs and we were off. Vibrant hues of red, green and violet dappled the undulating landscape as we traversed an alternate universe to that which we had so recently inhabited. Whereas flat, rolling sand dunes was the bosom cradling trees and thorns of that harsh mother, Khaudum; the rock-strewn palate 60 miles beyond Windhoek soared with ore-infused mountains.

Karl is a lunatic.

No, worse than that. Karl drives like a NYC cabby given a $1000 tip to “step on it” during rush hour. I mean, I like drifting the car at 183mph on the back straight of Watkins Glen International as much as the next guy, but this was ridiculous. Did we really want a gemsbok (get over it Karl, I’m not calling it Oryx anymore) that bad?

We arrived at our new safari camp, picked up our “tracker” and were off. Dad and I mounted the “high seat” with unloaded guns in hand and bounced along. There are times I really hate being 5’5”. Dad used to be 5’7”. Neither of us could plant our feet on the floor while sitting in the elevated platform that Karl tried to launch us from with regularity. I thought about using the winch cable to tie us down then realized that would be too tempting for Karl. We scrabbled up scree and sidled through gullies in search of gemsbok coming face to face with a huge tusked warthog who stared in disbelief as we bounced along. A couple of kudu, a few impala, a herd of stampeding zebra (VERY cool), a small clutch of gemsbok …

“Thump thump thump thump” drummed my fingertips upon the truck’s roof. My first thought was “How could I spot them before our tracker?” My second thought was “And there they go … into an area we could not hunt. Ugh.

More bounces than a 25 cent superball and 4 hours later, we came across another herd of Gemsbok winding their way down one hill to a ravine. Excellent, we can make the one-mile stalk essentially unseen - there was no where for them to escape. They HAD to travel up the other side of the ravine, to the left through the relatively open traverse or to the right - same thing. We had them!!! A VERY nice bull among them - how difficult could this be?

Right …

Merlin has nothing on these gemsbok - they walked behind a 3” sapling and POOF - they were gone. Scratching his ample yet Rugby-riddled pate, Karl was as flummoxed as we. But that, my friends is hunting.

We remounted our sturdy steed and set off at a gallop. Another hour in the saddle, thorns providing some unneeded aeration to my left arm and shoulder as we passed through the bush and THERE!!! …

We piled out. Dad grabbed and loaded his unfailing Remington Ti 300SAUM and I the V-C 375Fl. A very quick stalk to a spot of Karl’s choosing and the sticks were set. Karl is an expert with these sticks - making them the perfect height every single time and without pre-practice.

Dad was on them as I looked around the gathered troops. I couldn’t see a thing and never had a chance to take a photo of dad in action but action he took! Over 250 yards away the 150 grain Barnes TTSX found its mark as dad’s gemsbok fell. Damn guy impresses me every single time.

“GREAT SHOT!!! Great shot!” Karl bellowed as dad accepted pats and handshakes all around.

After a few attempts at picking the beast up and putting it in the Cruiser, we decided we decided to follow my mother’s advice and “use the brains God gave you”. Positioning the truck downhill of the gemsbok, the tailgate now level with the ground upon which he peacefully lay, we were able to barrel-roll him into his penultimate resting place. A new ground speed record was set as Karl lit the afterburners and we were soon back on the tarmac of Windhoek. Skinned and quartered, we delivered all but hide and head to a local primary school hostel (dormitory). Meals would be delicious gemsbok for a little while at least.

We made our way back to the hot showers of Arebbusch and dinner thereafter. Tomorrow would be a visit to the taxidermist for a last look around and a few photos, some souvenir shopping and the first leg of our return home.

Thursday November 10th

On the way to Windhoek International Airport we stopped once again at Karl’s taxidermist friend. We decided to take some photos of the doubles in their proper environment.

And all too soon we were off …

Thank you - all of you - who have help us to live our dreams. I hope that I could bring just a bit of an experience that could never be adequately captured in print. I’ve enjoyed writing this Hunt Report and sharing it with you, my friends.

To Karl Stumpfe, Jon Bieber, Ken Buch, Larry Koeller, Michael McCourry, Don Soter, Mike Podwika, Sam Rose, Steve Turner and Susan - my most sincere and deepest gratitude - for everything.

To my dad - I love you Pop. Someday I might be half the man you are. I’m not quite there yet but I’m trying.

“So dad, lion in 2 years?”

“Five years”

“That’s what I said, another elephant and a lion in 2 years.”