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After a long wait (and shortly before returning to Zimbabwe to hunt in Matetsi Unit Four in Zimbabwe) I've finally jotted down some of the details of my hunt of last year in Zim's Binga/Sengwa area. Perhaps this should have gone in the Hunt Report Forum, but it really focuses on African hunting, so forgive my transgression. I hope this might be helpful for anyone considering this very nice safari area or for those of you debating brining a non-hunting girlfriend or wife along on your next hunt. I tried it and, as you'll see, it worked out great!

Area of Hunt: Binga/Sengwa area (Zimbabwe)
Outfitter: Mark Dewet Safaris www.markdewetsafaris.com
Booking Agent: None
PH: Mark Dewet
Rifle: Merkel 140-2 Double Rifle in .470 NE
Bullets: 500 gr. Swift A Frame and Woodleigh Solids
Observers: Claudia – my wife & Kay (my 89-year old friend, uncle, and fellow Dane)
Date of Hunt: 1st September to 10 September 2007

Animals Hunted: Cape Buffalo, Impala, Hyena
Animals Taken: Cape Buffalo & Impala

Background:
This was a seven-day hunt focusing on buffalo, and would be my first hunting safari in Africa. I had met our PH, Mark Dewet, at SCI and was favorably impressed with his attitude, 'fair chase' philosophy, and sense of humor – all important factors when choosing someone who will become your hunting companion for a week. I explained to him that my goal was to live the dream of a young boy who immersed himself in the African adventures of Roosevelt, Hemingway, and Ruark: To one day go on an authentic safari and hunt Cape Buffalo. For me, it had to be on foot, fair chase, and armed with a double rifle with iron sights. The latter would obviously mean the possibility, if not likelihood, of passing on shot opportunities, but so be it. For me, the dream was the hunt itself and not the certainty of a kill, and I craved tradition in my safari wherever possible.

Getting There:
My wife Claudia, my friend Kay, and I flew out of Dulles on SAA to Johannesburg where we would stay the night at the airport Intercontinental Hotel to catch the early morning flight to Victoria Falls. The SAA staff were great and we experienced no issues checking in our luggage and my double rifle and some 40 rounds of ammo. Arriving in Jo'burg I had already filled out the obligatory firearms forms so that I could take my rifle to the hotel (and not leave it at the airport overnight). After clearing immigrations, I inadvertently picked up my rifle and proceeded through customs without being stopped. What I should have done was to leave the rifle for a contract security company to retrieve and deliver to the firearms office. They were a little bemused that I arrived with weapons case in hand, but they chalked it up to Customs inefficiency rather than a legal transgression on my part. Registration went quickly – about 20 minutes – and I was soon out joining my party.

The following morning we flew SAA to Victoria Falls where customs and immigration was somewhat chaotic but not at all onerous.

All the firearms forms I had painstakingly prepared were accepted without a hitch, and we were soon out by the curb where our PH’s representatives met us. A trip into Vic Falls was arranged so we could have lunch and kill a little time before catching our charter flight to Binga. Our meal was served at a plain but pleasant brasserie where for less than half a billion Zim dollars we had steak sandwiches and cold Tusker beer – what a bargain! The town was eerily empty of people, more like a ghost town, save for folks walking the roads carrying belongings. Gas stations were empty, and I was told that everyone purchased fuel across the border.

Soon thereafter, we were back at Victoria Falls Airport to catch our small charter flight. Taking only an hour, it was a fascinating trip with spectacular views of the falls and surrounding landscape.

[Below: My wife Claudia takes in the view en route to camp, while Kay catches up on some well deserved sleep]

We were traveling in September, relatively late in the hunting season, so the terrain was dry and brown. Fires dotted the horizon with plumes of smoke visible in most directions. The airport at Binga is adjacent to the local school, and the arrival of any plane is immediate grounds for lessons to be suspended and a mass exodus of children who crowd around the guests to their community. The kids loved the opportunity to practice their social skills and mugging for the camera, and all of us felt quite welcomed. It was a charming beginning to our safari.

Our PH, Mark Dewet, a South African with many years of military and hunting experience, was there amongst the crowd to greet us. We made our way onto the Toyota Landcruiser and were soon barreling along the vague approximations of roads for which Africa is famous. Leaving the Zambezi valley for the surrounding escarpment, within a 45-minutes we found ourselves at our camp, perched on a bluff overlooking a river thick with crocodiles, or ‘flat dogs’ in the local vernacular.

A grassy delta extended away from the water towards a mopane forest, perhaps 300 meters away. This proved an irresistible draw for elephants, buffalo, kudu, warthogs, and other creatures that would water there after dusk and through to the early dawn.

Within an hour of our arrival, it was suggested that, given that evening was soon upon us, we might want to check the zero in my Merkel .470. So we hoped back into the Toyota and headed to the range. The rifle was shooting fine, and more importantly, I didn’t reveal myself to be a complete dork in handling a weapon, so with everyone satisfied, we headed back. On the way, our camp PH Kevin (who represented Russ Broom’s organization and was the Zimbabwean PH of record, since Mark is South African) spotted a herd of impala, and suggested that we get out and stalk them. But being as it was getting dark, and everyone was tired, we elected to pass and head straight to camp and dinner. We would later look ruefully back on this opportunity and almost regret this decision.

Russ Broom’s big game concession in the Zambezi is well over one hundred miles long. The area lies between Lake Kariba and the Chizaria National Park and is a combination of rocky foothills and flood plain. Much of the area is wilderness supporting an estimated 8,000 Cape Buffalo. All of his camps are of the traditional safari style, and in our case we enjoyed double fly tents erected beneath traditional thatched huts. All have three quarter beds, as well as en suite showers and flush toilets. This area is “Tribal Land” and therefore doesn’t have much in the way of squatters or ‘war vet’ problems. We were all delighted with the beautiful location and the rustic yet comfortable accommodations.

[Below: Staff huts within the camp are traditional mud and thatch construction]

Meals were served in a large thatch roofed community building, open on all sides, and overlooking the river below us. At the extreme end was a bar, where our evening gin & tonics were expertly prepared. Our days would end around the traditional campfire, watching the big game carefully meander towards the water and the natural salt deposits that lay below our camp. There are few memories more vivid and satisfying than those around a fire in the wilderness with friends and fellow hunters.

The Hunt:
Our first day began with a 05:30 am wakeup call, with hot tea delivered to our tent in what would become a welcome daily ritual. Breakfast was a robust and classical English-style menu, with eggs, bacon, toast, cereal, and the like.

We were soon ‘saddled up and heading out’ enjoying the brisk African air occasionally tinged with smoke. Each of us was surprised by how cold the mornings would be in contrast to the heat the afternoon would generate. We were happy to have brought warm fleece jackets and pants, as the open air rides in the mornings would otherwise be frigid affairs.

[Below: Professional Hunter Extraordinaire Mark Dewet sitting next to Claudia on the way to the Zambezi Valley]

Our first day put us on the spoor of a large herd of buffalo moving up through the area. We got close enough to spy most of the bulls only to find that they were immature with a narrow spread and green bosses.

All the same, for me it was a great success and I loved every minute of the hunt. To stalk within a few meters of these legendary creatures was fantastic; seeing them pass by was a huge thrill for Claudia and me, and it was a perfect start to our safari.

By the way, September proved a great time of year to go, and we were rewarded with excellent visibility, cool evenings, and no tsetse flies or mosquitoes. Sure, the mopane bees were an occasional nuisance (they’re not so much bees as they are swarming gnats) but as soon as a breeze kicked in they tended to disperse.

On the second day we traveled down into the Zambezi Valley. Within an hour, our extraordinary trackers cut spoor of three dugga boys moving west from one of the year-round watering holes that were checked daily. It was tough going, and their path took us through heavy brush and over every hill they could find. After following their tracks for four hours, we were losing faith that we would catch up with them before they entered a neighboring concession.

Suddenly, one of the trackers caught sight of them, now reduced in number to two. They were resting beside a large termite mound. From the oblique angle they stood relative to us, we were able to confirm that they were big-bodied bulls, with one showing a good spread.

Perhaps it was a suspicious sound, or a brief wind shift that delivered a waft of the much-hated man-scent. Whatever the cause, the consequence was sudden movement by the larger of the two Cape Buffalo; it turned in our direction, its gaze piercing the mopane scrub and scrutinized the vague but threatening figures standing some 75 meters away. It was immediately apparent that I had only scant seconds to either shoot or brace for a possible charge – or retreat – by this icon of African dangerous game.

I found myself seconds away from culminating a life-long dream. Placing my double express rifle on the shooting sticks hastily erected by Kevin, I quickly aligned the open sights on what I knew to be a lethal pathway for the thousand grains of solid and softpoint rounds. Two almost simultaneous eruptions let loose and the buffalo was floored from the twin impact from the .470 nitro express rounds, the first piercing both his heart and lungs, the other shattering his spine. In truth, I’ll take full credit for the first shot – it was carefully placed. The second round, however, was fired hastily and in the general direction of the first. Good fortune and not shooting prowess guided that one.

Avoiding the temptation to ‘admire the shots’, I found myself employing the discipline that many days at the range – and many more hours mentally rehearsing this very situation – had prepared me for (after all, I had hunted this buffalo hundreds of times before in my imagination!). I instinctively dropped two more rounds into the breach of my classic double rifle, brought the barrel up finding the now mortally wounded buffalo in my sight picture, and readied to pull both triggers again. However, my PH called out that the other huge bull had approached us from behind the termite mound and was threatening to charge our position less than 50 meters away.

Three rifles swung in unison and settled on the confused and obviously agitated beast as he weighed its options: charge and gore these killers of his companion, or withdraw to fight another day. I will never forget the hatred that was evident in his eyes as he stood there contemplating what to do. He chose wisely, however, and retreated in the direction of the nearby hills. And with that, we began the careful approach to my downed and dying dugga boy. Paying the insurance from a distance of five meters, my final salvo put this hunt to rest.

The palpable tension leading up to this moment, preceded as it was by the many hours of tracking through the equatorial heat and heavy terrain, was broken now by the elation of a successful hunt. Hugs and handshakes were in abundance; here in the wilds of Zimbabwe, many miles and a world away from home, the culmination of years of planning coupled with the efforts of a superb team of professionals – and now friends – concluded with my taking a beautiful and mature bull with a nice boss and an exceptional spread of over 42 inches.

Equally satisfying to each of us was that this hunt was done in the classic way: obeying the rules of ‘fair chase’, on foot, tracking our prey, and stalking close enough to effectively use open sights on an animal that is responsible for innumerable hunters’ deaths over the years. From the time I was 12 years old and first read Hemingway’s Green Hills of Africa, this was how I imagined it would play out on my first safari for arguably the most dangerous of the Big Five.

Returning to camp, there was a celebratory mood. From a practical standpoint, the pressure was off the PHs early in the hunt. They had delivered the opportunity I had traveled all the way to Africa for; and I had acquitted myself as was expected. But also in evidence was a very genuine happiness for my success that day, and not only from the PHs but also the camp staff. It had the air of a team win, and I was immensely pleased that everyone shared in both the credit and sense of accomplishment. And in truth, were it not for the role everyone played that day, I would never have killed my buffalo.

I was asked how I wanted to spend the balance of my safari. While I’m drawn to dangerous game, I’m not a trophy hunter in the strict sense. I don’t plan on having a trophy room, though I will hang my buff in a European mount – skull and horns only – perhaps in my home office. Try as I might, I can’t muster great enthusiasm for plains game, apart from the utilitarian need for camp food. To that end, and given that I had five more days to hunt, I asked about taking an impala.

It would take a couple of days effort, and then only after building a ground blind along a game trail leading to a small watering hole. On the way to the blind, a small duiker crossed our path at about 70-meters and I was encouraged to take it. Inexplicably, I elected to use my double rifle. Lining up on the tiny deer, barrels resting on my PH’s shooting sticks, I took careful aim and … blew the shot. My round clearly passed beneath the duiker and he took off like the space shuttle. It was a humbling experience and I was embarrassed for my PH; so much for my not shooting like a dork! My muffed shot weighed heavily on my mind as we sat in the blind. Providence shined on me again, however, and within 45-minutes of positioning ourselves in the blind, I got a clear shot on a nice ram. Borrowing the assistant PH’s scoped .375 H&H, I managed a one-shot kill at about 60-meters and felt a wave of relief. In the time leading up to my shot, we saw half a dozen duiker and several impala parade right by us. It was a wonderful hunt and testament to the expertise and experience of my PH.

At this point we still had a few days left. We had listened to hyena each night, and I thought that a hyena skull on my desk might be pretty neat (and it would provide a unique if small rug, too!), so it was decided to erect a tree blind and use part of the buffalo as bait.

Several hours each successive night saw my PH and I waiting for a hyena to approach. Perched in our tree stand, listening in the dark, spotlight at the ready, offers one the opportunity to reflect on just how fortunate you are to be in wild Africa. The sounds and atmosphere are indescribable, and I enjoyed every minute waiting to see how this part of the story would play out. When a hyena did eventually arrive, it was only on the scene long enough to take a single, loud crunching bite out of the buffalo haunch and then dash off when he found he couldn’t drag it away. He had to be wary to begin with, as his appearance lasted less than 15-seconds, and we never had a chance to put the spotlight on him.

We were told that earlier in the year they had used an electronic caller that played hyena noises that were recorded off National Geographic program. Literally within minutes of the call being played, the hunters could hear a pack of hyena stampeding down from the hills towards their stand. Upon their arrival, it was hyena pandemonium as they angrily searched for the trespassers – just enough time for the spotlight to go on and illuminate a massive female that was immediately shot. Now that’s something I want to experience! (Perhaps in early September when we will find ourselves hunting with Mark again, only this time in Matetsi Unit Four!)

Afterthoughts:
After flying out of camp, we stayed a couple of nights at the beautiful Victoria Falls Hotel, set near the edge of the falls themselves. The hotel has been maintained to a very high standard, and it provides a glimpse into Zimbabwe’s colonial past and the splendor that was once a part of mid-century safaris.

Several interesting markets were within walking distance, and we were never concerned for our safety at any time. Our flights back to the US were also on SAA and went off without a hitch.

This was definitely a trip of a lifetime, and each of us was rewarded with an exceptional adventure. In fact, it was so successful that my non-hunter wife got the bug and has elected to hunt a zebra on our next safari! She’ll also back-up my shots on another buffalo using a Whitworth Express .375 H&H. Also on the bag for that trip: hyena and warthog! I’ll report back on that adventure in due time.

It was recommended that my two European mount trophies (skull and horns only) be sent to Trans African Taxidermists in South Africa. The shipping charges alone were $963 from Zimbabwe to South Africa. The taxidermy costs will probably run a reasonable $600, though I haven’t a clue what the shipping charge will be to the US (Miami). It’s been almost a year and I hope to receive them soon. Next time I will probably use a taxidermist in Victoria Falls to handle the zebra and hyena hides and the buffalo skull (again using a skull mount) and a cape-mount for the warthog head – which is a must-have for my office).

Also, we definitely brought too little cash with us and ended up skimping on souvenirs, and more importantly, having to wire our primary PH his gratuity. To be fair, we were caught off guard that there would be an assistant PH among the tip-receivers, but as it turned out, Mark was very understanding. For a 10-day trip I would estimate that $3,500 in cash (10’s, 20’s, and 100’s) would be about right, assuming about half of that will be paid out in gratuities. Also, given that most vendors, etc. prefer US dollars, I’ll also bring $100 in one dollar bills for use as tips for luggage handlers, etc.

I hope this hasn’t been too long-winded a report, but I enjoyed writing it as it helped to refresh memories that I am loathe to forget. Let me conclude by highly recommending this experience to anyone who has dreamed of hunting dangerous game in Africa. You will not be disappointed. And if you are in search of a solid, experienced, and expert PH that is a joy to spend time with, you can’t go wrong with Mark Dewet.