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Good day fellow hunters

I just wanted to fill you in a little on what’s been going on since I made my last meaningful post, sometime ago now. Obviously the talk about the woods is that we are out of Chewore. That fact has saddened us all but we are following the example of our boss and remaining upbeat. I spoke with Roger earlier today, for the first time since the auction and he is relatively unfazed. He said he is just grateful for the time RWS has had in Chewore and that it is time to move on. Those of you who know Roger will understand when I say he has plans afoot. Somehow, I don’t think losing Chewore is going to affect either the amount of hunting we do or the quality of trophies we procure!

If I remember correctly, my last updates were made from Humani and were about Jimmy the rhino and the Tylinsky leopard hunt. Some of you may remember the trail cam pictures I posted from the Tylinsky hunt. Can you believe that we determined the cat below was a female? Hard to believe, I know, but the truth. This cat was photographed a number of times from different angles and not once did we see any sign of a scrotie peeking out from between its hind legs. A eunuch maybe? Anyhow, interesting and controversial issues are coming about as a result of these leopard pictures and I shall keep you posted on developments. Those developments should take place the next couple of days.

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Despite maximum effort on her part, Rhonda Tylinsky never got her leopard. The result made us all a little bleak as we are not too conditioned to failure, particularly when it comes to leopards on Humani. Anyhow, Rhonda’s bad luck and the next hunt I accompanied had me thinking a great deal about success and failure and everything in between. I have actually been contemplating exactly what success and failure are, pertaining to hunting and life in general. My conclusions? If you give it everything you have, there can never be failure. Everyone certainly gave it their all on the Bob Glick elephant bull safari. I was telling Roger a little about that hunt earlier, and I concluded with the words, ‘It was the most physically and mentally challenging hunt I’ve been on for years.’ That certainly is the truth. In 4 years to be exact – ever since a 2003 Chewore eland hunt I went on with Tim Hauck and PH Peter Wood. Eland? I hear you ask incredulously. Believe it people. Anyhow, that’s another story. Let me tell you a little about the Bob Glick elephant safari.

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From the very onset, I felt that Bob’s hunt was going to build up to a fantastic climax. I felt this even towards the end, during the dry days leading up to day ten, when hope was fast fading. Instinct is what it’s all about. Sometimes one can just feel it coming on, in hunting and in everyday life. Maybe some cannot, but I can. It certainly came on strong during that elephant bull hunt. Throughout those two weeks, my senses worked maximum overdrive, urging me to savor each moment of this one, priming me to be prepared when the moments came about. Within my soul, I knew it was going to be a memorable hunt. Yes, I know that I often write about memorable hunting experiences, and it is true that each hunt is unique in its own right, but some do definitely stand out. Particular hunts are more deeply ingrained in the memory than others – it’s as simple as that. In my mind, the Bob Glick safari shall always rank high as one of those.

Although it is normal for me to go into a hunt in an optimistic frame, in the case of Bob’s hunt my expectations were possibly a little over the top. I mean, a mid-season elephant bull hunt in Chewore? Hardly anything to get too pumped up about, especially when one has just accompanied a fairly relaxed hunt in Nyakasanga, where a 65 pound elephant bull was taken on day eight. And that was after 42 bulls were adjudged and turned down, including several 50 pounders! Quite unbelievable in this day and age, but true nonetheless. So, yes, coming off the success of the Nyakasanga safari and going into the Chewore hunt was certainly not inspirational as far as the attainment of heavy ivory was concerned, but still I felt overly inspired, for a number of reasons.
First of all, there is the Chewore factor to consider. Whilst Chewore ivory is not that inspirational, Chewore itself certainly is. Time spent in Chewore does strange things to people, including me. I am amongst a number of African big game hunters who rate Chewore as the ultimate hunting experience. Since I first spent time in that hard land, thirteen years ago now, there has never been any doubt in my mind that this is the case. Just the thought of hunting Chewore sends shivers of excitement down my spine, and I’m not making use of my writer’s license in this instance. Secondly, although Chewore does not have a great record when it comes to the procurement of heavy ivory, particularly in recent times, Roger Whittall Safaris enjoyed sweet success there in early 2007, with two fine bulls being taken on the season’s first two elephant hunts. Chi Kit Chai, hunting with PH Richard Tabor took a phenomenal 66 pound bull, and then PH Peter Wood guided Tom Wiedel onto a decent 45 pound bull. Please bear in mind that 45 pounds is well above the Chewore average. Anyhow, Bob Glick was to hunt with PH Richard Tabor, and since that young hunter was on a roll with two 60 pounders under his belt in as many months, I felt it highly likely that he and his trackers would continue to ride the wave.

I soon discovered that everyone shared my optimism and from the word go a cracking pace was set. On the first day, PH Tabor took us on a grueling hike through the escarpment foothills that run along the Chibara (little bullet) River, on our area’s southern boundary. Copious quantities of sweat produced very little elephant sign and no evidence of big bulls at all. We did see a couple of cow herds and some sable on a far off ridge. Amongst the elephants seen, we spotted two huge tuskless cows. Although a tuskless was on Bob’s agenda (as well as a buffalo and a couple of plainsgame animals), nothing but elephant bull even entered the equation at that stage of the game. We were men on a mission and we were going to focus on that mission wholly. Our excursion to the escarpment foothills yielding naught, we headed back down towards the Angwa River in the late afternoon to scout about in that area. Whilst making our way out of the hills, we were informed on the radio that Gary Meade (Bob’s buddy who was hunting with PH Peter Wood) had taken a big tuskless cow. Good omen for all on the first day.

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Physically speaking, the days that followed were much of a muchness and comprised walking, walking and more walking. Occasionally a day would comprise driving, driving and more driving, and these were the days that challenged us most of all. Fortunately, they were few and far between. I guess it was panning out at about 20% horsepower and 80% manpower, which is always a good thing. Although far more enjoyable than driving around looking for fresh tracks, our regular hikes were extremely testing, make no mistake. Most of the time we were in the mountains or walking riverbeds, and I’m still uncertain which I prefer. I think my toes prefer the mountains but am still not too sure about my calves! At least I only had my camera to carry and I can’t say I felt too sorry for Bob and Richard, lugging around their Krieghoff doubles as they were. No, of course I didn’t offer to share the burden. That is why there is a clear distinction between a cameraman/journalist and a hunter. Journalist carries camera and hunter carries rifle – simple. At times on Bob’s hunt, specifically after many hours trudging down the Chewore River, I found myself thinking how I wished hunter carried rifle and camera and journalist nothing! At those times, journalist felt as if he couldn’t carry himself another step. It’s funny how we just keep going eh? No matter how exhausted we are.

Each and every day began at 4 a.m. and ended well after dark. Most often we rolled back into camp around 8 or 9 p.m. Each day we headed north, towards the mountains, timing it so that we would be close to one of several observation points at daybreak. As the sun breached the eastern horizon, we would spend a little time glassing the vast bushveld below, looking for we certainly knew what. Early one morning, we spotted a herd of buffalo in this fashion and decided to go take a look. A short follow-up and stalk ensued, and then Bob effectively demonstrated to us his ability with a .500 double rifle. Standing half way up and shooting over an anthill, Bob made a perfect off-hand shot on a fine buffalo bull 75 yards off. The bull did not drop, but as it turned, Bob smote it again with his second barrel, spining it and putting it down for good. Great shooting it was, but the best was yet to come. That best came a few days later after some more hardcore elephant hunting, when Bob took a kudu bull at 152 yards at the Kachowe/Chewore river junction. 152 yards with a double .500??? Can you believe it? Believe it.

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Although I have hunted in Chewore South on and off for some years now, Bob’s hunt introduced me to some new and fascinating country. This area is a mountainous region flanking the upper end of the Chewore River (as upper as I’ve been anyway), and accessible only by way of a primitive track known as Pete Fick’s road. I don’t know what Pete Fick was thinking the day he decided to open that road. I don’t know what the guys who named it were thinking either when they gave it the title ‘road’. Pete Fick’s road is the ultimate 4x4 challenge, and though Rich Tabor tried his utmost to avoid it, wear and tear on his new cruiser still came about. We spent days hunting the mountains enveloping the Chewore River and it was tough going to say the least. As hard hunting as I’ve ever done. As challenging as it was, it was great hunting experience for us all and I enjoyed my time in that unfamiliar country tremendously. Not only did I enjoy myself, I will now also be able to finally put The Elephant Slayer’s (aka JPK) long overdue hunting journal together. Very difficult to write about an area you don’t know. But now I understand what you mean, John – those mountains are brutal! Certainly comparable to the Mashambanzhou in the muscle usage department! God, I discovered muscles I didn’t even realize were there! You know me, John, am I allowed to refer to them as muscles?

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Anyway, the days passed and we never came upon a decent sized track that was fresh enough to follow. We saw a fair number of bulls, in the mountains and elsewhere, but they were all too young. We also saw some decent tracks, but they were either too old or heading into another area. As we struck out day after day, so we intensified the effort, pushing ourselves harder and further, never contemplating failure. Although big elephant bulls were keeping a low profile, we experienced some awesome wildlife visuals, including a pride of lions and a 45 inch dagga boy on the Chewore River. Late in the evening of the ninth day, after a particularly draining hike down the Chewore River, Bob took a massive tuskless cow in spectacular fashion. When I say the cow was taken at last light, I mean there was two minutes of shooting light remaining. Bob attempted a frontal brain shot but was deceived by the angle of the cow’s head and shot a little high. Still, the .500 rocked the huge elephant to the core and she went down heavily. Back-up shots kept her down and then another cow came barreling and screaming towards us. A hasty back-off was called for but fortunately the enraged elephant stopped and turned away before any warning shots were fired.

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The early morning of day 10 found us following a decent elephant bull track for the first time. At least, we thought it was decent. It looked decent until we saw disappointing ivory that PH Tabor said may or may not have gone thirty pounds. After the three hour tracking session, we drove up to the Chewore River, to check on the progress of the recovery team who were butchering the tuskless cow. Actually, they had not started butchering as we had told them to wait for us to take photos - it had been too dark the evening before. After a brief photo session, progress began to take place. Noon came and went and, with the recovery almost complete, we headed out again, in search of that elusive big bull track. Just before 3 p.m., in some broken ground not far from the Kachowe River, we came across Jombo’s (Gumboot’s) track…..

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I’ve decided to post this in two instalments as I am pretty tired now. Please excuse the many blunders. This is a very abbreviated version of a journal I have begun writing for Bob Glick and my thoughts are wondering back and forth between this post, Bob’s journal, John’s journal, Captain Bob’s journal, Don’s journal…….Hmmmmm, I hope this post makes some sense to someone out there.

To all of my hunting buddies waiting for their journals, don’t give up hope, victory is in sight! Only Bob Glick’s is still in its infancy, the rest are close to print. Very soon now - I shall email them to you all for your approval.

Bob Glick came to hunt with us as a member of a 5 man hunting party. At the same time as we were hunting elephant in Chewore, David Schaible and Maurice (?) were hunting leopard and buffalo on Humani. Gary Meade and Steve (?) were only with us a few days, leaving to join David and Maurice once Gary had taken his buffalo. I’m so bad with these last names and I apologize. I may have a bit of an excuse for failing to remember Maurice’s, as I only met him once and briefly, but I shared camp with Steve for days! Sorry guys, I will find out what you last names are and fill in the gaps tomorrow. Anyhow, throughout Bob’s hunt, we were getting radio reports on progress from Humani, and each day came news of more success in the south. Our friends' successes only served to spur us on. Once I have finished relating the events of the elephant hunt, I shall tell what I know about David, Maurice, Gary and Steve’s hunts, and post some pictures of the great trophies they took on Humani.

Goodnight
Dave

Hello

Let me begin today’s post by showing some photos of trophies taken by David Schaible, Maurice and Steve in the Lowveld, whilst we were in Chewore. I still don’t have Maurice or Steve’s last names, hopefully tomorrow. I find it ironic that I can reach hundreds of people abroad through this site but that I can’t get a message to someone 40 kilometers from here! Anyway, by all accounts, David and Maurice had an excellent safari, each taking a leopard and buffalo bull, as well as many plainsgame animals. Once the safari concluded, we all met up in Harare and I met David and Maurice. We all went out for dinner together and a fine time was had by all. Obviously, dinner was dominated by hunting talk and we all relived the moments. It seems that the highlight of David’s hunt was when, with a day or two to spare, he took a magnificent nyala bull that measured 29.5 inches. David and his PH, Colin van de Linden, acted on a tip-off from PH Peter Wood, who told them he had seen a monster nyala bull in a particular area close to the Save River. The hunters spent the afternoon in that area, with PH van de Linden climbing trees and glassing periodically. Although a couple of nyala bulls were seen, they were not the ones the hunters sought. Dusk descended and the men gave up, driving through the area slowly, back towards camp. Not ten minutes later, as Colin was about to switch on his headlights, movement caught the hunters’ attention, from deep shadow within a clump of bush about 80 yards off. Colin and Dave left the vehicle hastily, scanning the spot as they stalked in closer. After a few minutes, there was another movement. This time, Colin had his high-powered binoculars focused on the movement, and he saw what caused it – an outstanding Nyala bull, stepping from the shadows. The bull must have been fully aware of the human presence but appeared unperturbed. Maybe it thought it was already shielded by darkness. A few whispers and David informed Colin that he could see the bull well through his scope. A precise shot and David Schaible had taken any hunter’s dream trophy. There really is something about a nyala bull, is there not? Let me post some pictures from that highly successful Humani Safari, and as I find out more from the PH’s concerned, I’ll fill you in a little more.

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JOMBO

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Just before 3 p.m., in some broken ground not far from the Kachowe River, we came across Jombo’s (Gumboot’s) track……

Now, I am hardly an authority on tracking (elephant or otherwise), but even I realized we were looking at a sizeable print. It seems like everyone on a hunting rig knows instinctively when a large print is crossed, whether it’s their first elephant hunt or 77th. Must be something to do with the way the trackers tap on the roof, or their facial expressions, or something. But even I saw that Jombo’s track was a good one, before we rolled to a halt and carried out a thorough assessment. There it was for the world to see, right in the middle of the hunting track, clearly imprinted in sandy soil, a distinctive crack through the centre, worn well… And it was fresh, from that day – by far the most promising track we had come across. Standing beside tracker Tayengwa and looking down at the spoor in the sand, I heard that man whisper something inaudible.
‘What was that?’ I asked. Okay not really, ‘What was that?’, but rather ‘Chi cho?’ Tayengwa looked up at me squarely. ‘Jombo,’ he said. ‘Ndio Jombo.’ ‘Gumboot, this is gumboot.’
The next couple of minutes didn’t even exist, as we readied ourselves for pursuit in record time.

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Initially, Jombo walked in a dead straight line, on a well used elephant path, heading down towards the Kachowe River. The tracking was a simple affair for the talented team of Tayengwa and Oriah, and ‘hot pursuit’ tracking mode was the order of the moment. Although the tracks were certainly from that day, the bull had passed by many hours before and we were many miles behind him. A kilometer or so from the Kachowe River, the bull had left the path and began meandering around a little, browsing here and there as he went. Several times we came across huge piles of dung – the most impressive aspect related to this elephant’s size. Although he had deviated here and there, the bull had kept with his original course and eventually led us down into the Kachowe riverbed. I would discover later on in the chase that Jombo was not meandering at all, he was tacking, with the wind always on his ample rear. Little did we realize it then, but we had chosen to pursue an extremely canny adversary. The riverbed was reached at sunset and we were forced to give up the chase for the day. But now we had purpose and that is a most beneficial aid to any hunt. We were pumped and knew precisely where we’d be at dawn the following morning.

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The next morning we followed Jombo from sunrise until 2.30 p.m. It was really tough going at times, with rock strewn, grass covered ground to contend with. Tracking an elephant is not easy and don’t let anyone kid you into believing it is. Jombo had zigzagged through a vast area of jesse and mopani forest the previous night, heading north, towards the mountains. Although he maintained that direction throughout, he didn’t seem in any particular hurry and I thought we must be gaining ground. Bob helped me to learn a fair amount more than I knew about elephant tracking that day. Not that it was all that difficult to get me learning something new about elephant tracking! If you know nothing you can only learn eh? Throughout his hunt, Bob showed what an interested hunter he is, and I always enjoy hunting with a guy like that. Bob likes to get involved in the hunt (as any real hunter should), and by so doing he had me asking the trackers questions I never would have come up with. All knowledge is precious.

At midday, we discovered that Jombo had teamed up with two younger bulls, though maintained the same direction. The three bulls crossed the main security road and appeared to be making for the hazy Mashambanzhou mountain range in the north-east. The sun was beating down, we were weary, footsore and hungry and we called a break at 2.30 p.m., after losing the tracks in rocky terrain a few times. By this time we had our fresh-faced young apprentice, Jason Bromley, on the team as a driver. We called Jason in to our loc-stat, and he arrived not long afterwards with reviving food, coke and/or coffee. Yes, we drink hot coffee/tea at noon in the Zambezi Valley, it is a habit ingrained in the people of my tribe. Yes, I know they say ‘only mad dogs and Englishmen’, but we are not either. I guess some of us are mad dogs, at times! Anyway, whilst nourishing ourselves we fine tuned the afternoon’s gameplan, and 30 minutes later we were back on the hunt.

After crossing the main security road, the bulls had entered another vast block of intermingled mopani and jesse, as any creature would when crossing any road in the Zambezi Valley. There was a road that roughly bisected this block and the plan was to drive up it a distance and check if the bulls had crossed. This was done in due course, but after five or so kilometers and no tracks crossed, it was decision time. Judging by the earlier directional trend of the bulls and where we had left their tracks an hour before, it was agreed that they probably would not have crossed the road any higher up. The consensus was that they were somewhere between us and the security road. We drove back in the direction we had come for about one kilometer, to where a wending little sand river cut the road. Leaving the truck, we followed the river’s south westerly course, heading back towards where we had left the tracks earlier, but still about five kilometers from that place. Essentially, it was walking blind, but there was a seriously positive vibe in the air. It was the same vibe I felt throughout the hunt, but now I was buzzing with expectation. Something had to give, I knew it.

We had been walking for no more than an hour when we found Jombo’s tracks again. This time they were very fresh and for the first time we felt warm dung. We had only 1.5 hours of daylight remaining, but still we slowed the pace considerably and followed methodically. Methodically and purposefully – we knew Jombo was very close. He was also still hanging out with the other bulls, and six ears hear better than two, three trunks wind more than one. Picking our way stealthily along, we closed the gap, each pile of dung warmer than the one before. The elephants were obviously relaxed, browsing along in unhurried fashion and moving back towards the security road, possibly the Kachowe River. My only real ‘moment’ on the hunt then came about, as I heard an elephant rumbling up ahead and stopped the hunters with a psssssssst. We listened for a couple of minutes but heard nothing more and proceeded with the utmost care. Moments later, we saw an elephant bull through the light jesse, about 70 yards off. Now, though it was light jesse, jesse is jesse and try as we may we couldn’t see the other two bulls. Richard quickly adjudged the bull at about 35 pounds. Could it be Jombo? Surely not? An approach was quickly planned and initiated. Though the wind had not been constant the entire day, it was satisfactory at the time and we felt comfortable as we moved in to get a better look from a different angle. 50 yards, 40, 35…..and we could see the enormous butt of another bull. And then there was a hiss from Tayengwa, who was now bringing up the rear. We all turned and followed the direction of his gaze. And that is when I saw Jombo’s ivory for the first time, albeit briefly. That is also when PH Tabor saw Jombo’s ivory and he plucked at Bob’s shirtsleeve, motioning him forward, no doubt at all in his mind. I still don’t know how those bulls sensed us, but sense us they did and began to move. Slowly and unsure at first, though picking up momentum fast. The two younger bulls moved across our front, and Jombo went away from us through the scrub, beginning to stride out. We too were striding out. Jombo was no more than 30 yards from us, but there was some pretty thick scrub between us and we desperately needed an opening. A few more strides and a tiny window of opportunity presented itself, with the bull quartering away at thirty yards and a reasonable line of fire, for a .500. I only say that a tiny window of opportunity was there, because Bob himself said there was. I wouldn’t have taken the shot, no matter what caliber I was packing. There was just too much vegetation in the way. Anyway, though he flicked his safety off and shouldered his rifle, Bob didn’t take the shot. The moment passed almost immediately and we were striding out again, fervently willing a reasonable opportunity though the gap between hunters and hunted was now widening by the second. Striding became trotting as all eyes scanned the bush ahead, and then the PH tripped over a rock and sprawled headlong. Rich picked himself up fast, but then Bob also went down! Though trotting side by side, as focused as both men were on the disappearing elephant’s backside, neither Rich nor Bob saw the other fall. But I saw them both, so they cannot deny it! Jombo fled and we heard him crashing away through the bush. We followed the bull’s long strides for another hour or so, back to the security road. And then darkness dictated, calling time.

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We followed Jombo throughout the twelfth day, back down towards the Kachowe River. It was a most frustrating day due to the unreceptive tracking conditions and the fact that his spoor was crisscrossed a number of times by cow herds. Eventually, we lost him for good. Try as we did, we could not pick up his trail, and that afternoon we were forced to call it quits once again. Unbeknown to us, Jombo had already departed the area.

I’m afraid this post is going to have to have a third part to it. There is still much to come. Tune in to my next post for the grand finale on day thirteen! Once again, hope you can make sense of it all, I’m writing in a bit of a rush.