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Mozambique 2010

“There is no creature among all the beasts of the world which hath so great and ample demonstration of power and wisdom of almighty God as the Elephant”
Edward Topsell

It’s time to return to Africa. 2010 will be the year of the Bull Elephant for a simple Kiwi from the Hawkes Bay. Having already hunted Africa in more traditional hunting areas, for my 2010 hunt I wanted something a little different. With this in mind I asked my PH to suggest a location where I can hunt Bull Elephant hard in a remote and more traditional method, on foot, shades of ‘back in the day’ you could say. I also made the request to hunt Buffalo, as a second option should time permit. There is always a silent pause when you ask to hunt two of the big five on one safari. Most operators require that you take a certain number of days for each to get the maximum revenue from the licenses/quota they have available. Still is doesn’t hurt to ask. Mozambique is for you he shot back at me.

" The hunting concession is on the southern bank of Lake Carbora Bassa, the terrain consists of Mopane Bushveld dotted with hills. Traditionally known for big tuskers, it’s an area for the dedicated ivory hunter who is willing to work hard, get blisters on his feet, go thirsty, has a steel constitution and goes home with an above average Elephant trophy” … Not for the first time hunter to Africa!

How could I resist? The area sounded perfect and after many hours spent doing my own research with a slightly trembling hand transferred the deposit (when my wife wasn’t looking) and signed on spend the month of October in Africa.

Lake Carbora Bassa itself is an amazing engineering marvel. It is fed by the he Zambezi River which is the fourth longest in Africa, about 3,540 km long and draining an area of some 1.3 million sq km. From its headwaters in northwestern Zambia at 1524 m above sea level, it travels in a double S curve southeast towards the Indian Ocean. It flows through eastern Angola, traverses western Zambia, and forms the border of northeastern Namibia. It also forms the boundary between Zambia and Zimbabwe where it flows through Lake Kariba. It then crosses central Mozambique, forms a lake behind the Cahora Bassa Dam and then empties into the dozens of tributaries of the Mozambique Channel.

The Cahorra Bassa Dam project started as a joint project between the Portuguese and South African Governments in the late 1960's. Some of the challenges faced when building the dam included constructing a dam on an inaccessible site on a river best known for its violent and unpredictable floods and a tropical climate that produced sweltering heat one moment and torrential rain the next. There was a continued shortage of skilled labor, tropical diseases such as bilharzia, malaria and yellow fever also plagued laborers. They were also under a constant thread of hostile forces and of course constant and endless political turmoil. Despite all the problems, the river was closed in 1974. The enclosure formed a man made lake 270km long with an average width of 10km's.

Mozambique, a frontier-hunting destination, a country ravished by decades of war and massive poverty. Mozambique, a country on the mend, a country for the Elephant hunter.

Locations decided preparations begin in earnest, the logistics, flights, equipment, the physical training and rifles to get ready. There is also the much need reassurances to the wife. “It’s all completely safe dear, what could possibly go wrong” Part of the enjoyment of a hunt is the buildup!

And then you are there, the charter flight from Johannesburg via Bulawayo touching down at a remote dirt strip close to Kanyemba Border Post in Zimbabwe. With customs formalities over it’s into the Cruiser for the trip across the boarder and into Mozambique.

The concession can best be described as the 'dogs head' that forms the borders of Mozambique, Zimbabwe and Zambia to the north. One million acres with the northern border bounded by the lake. My Professional Hunter will be Rob Oliver; some people consider him to be one of the best young PH's in Africa today. Rob has considerable dangerous game experience and is the only PH I have ever seen that is perhaps a better tracker than the locals! His passion and life is hunting. As a client you must put you faith and life in the hands of your PH. There is no room out there in the bush for overinflated egos, both you as the client and he as the PH, you need to be honest about your abilities and expectation, only then can there be trust.

You have been hunting now for twelve days straight. You’re always up at 4 am and on the road twenty minutes later. You drive… man you drive. Up to 180 km’s per day along dirt roads, through villages and across rivers as you traverse the concession looking for elephant tracks. And walk, anything between 20 and 30 km’s a day. You reach camp again at night usually about 8-9 pm; just enough time for a beer a feed and into your pit for a few hours sleep. Then you do it all again.

Your looking for tracks where Elephant have crossed the road. Every so often you stop and PH, trackers and hunters all pile out for a look. After many stops and many looks, suddenly there it is, the track you have been looking for. Two of your feet fit into his, the cracks in his feet are well defined and there is considerable wear on the pad scuffed over many years and many miles.

“We will follow this one Rob states” and then its out with the guns, one in the chamber, safety all the way back, on with the suntan lotion and filling of the camel backs with water. You have done this may times over the last days, the trackers take up the spoor and in single file you set out. You wonder how long it will be before you come up on the Bulls, 2km? 10km? But come up on them you will. Many times you have looked at bulls, at least twenty carrying tusks over 40lb aside. You trust Robs judgment when he says “we can do better” and you turn” for the long walk back to start the process over again. Always there is a little bit of disappointment yet not too much, you have spent time amongst them, and you will get to keep walking in the footsteps of the giants.

You know its hot today when your hauling your rile over your shoulder with your hand on the barrel as they do in Africa. The steel is so hot you have to keep shifting your hand. The bluing is becoming worn from the barrel and you know you have carried that 11 lb rifle a few hundred km’s now. You would never ask one of the trackers to relieve you of the weight and they know that you are a hunter that would be offended if they offered. On you go.

Then it happens the tracker goes down and they are there, Bulls, two of them. But they are not standing fanning themselves hiding from the hot sun, you glance at your watch and realize the day is well advanced, maybe an hour of daylight left. The bulls are moving fast and you recognize the signs, with dusk approaching they are leaving the sanctuary of the bush and heading for water. They won’t stop now, man they can walk, you are running to keep up with their massive strides but slowly you are gaining. The older bull is a good one, you decide its time and you will take this bull, the grin from the trackers say it all, they quietly fall back and you and the PH move forward. The bulls are still moving fast, they seem more alert, I guess they know something is up but they can’t pinpoint the source of the irritation. And still both you and they keep moving, your blowing hard, daylight is fading and the chance for a shot is lessoning with every step. Your close now, 40yds, you have forgotten about the miles, the heat and the fatigue. Your concentrating where you put your feet like Rob has shown you, he’s agitated, frustrated, but calm, you both know that with the fading light there will be only one chance. The older bull is in the rear, he’s alert and testing the wind, you’re not in the ideal position… its not going to happen you think to yourself. Finally he turns broadside looking back, it’s now or never and you wish again you were closer. “Take him” you hear Rob say. No time to get a rest, no time for sticks, two steps forward and up comes the .505 Gibbs as you line the ivory bead up with the shallow ‘V’ You don’t feel the massive recoil of the first shot aimed into the heart and lungs. The bull flips around on a dime, here he comes, straight at you and across your front. You hear the pop of the .375 beside you and remember that you have instructed your brother to immediately back you up. You reload and aim for the ball at the top of the back leg. Boom once … twice and down he goes. You move up and he rises on his front legs looking down his trunk at you, the back ones are useless and he’s anchored to the deck. Between the eyes you think…. the .505 thunders for the last times and he’s gone.

What can you say when its over. What is there to say? You touch the Ivory with your hands and feel for the amazing animal at your feet. You have lived the dream; you have done it your way, on foot, day after day, mile after mile. Your sore, blisters are healed and blistered again; you have lost weight yet you know the sun baking and time in the outdoors has done you good. The beautiful wood and metal work on your rifle isn’t as beautiful as it was at the start, worn and scratched, you grin and somehow think it looks all the better.

There is a saying….
“You shoot an elephant with your rifle, but you hunt it with your feet” You know it’s true and you appreciate the opportunity and the experience. You wonder out loud, “how long will it be until I can walk in the footsteps of the giants once again”.

The Trackers and the PH, well they just grin, the pressure is off. Time now for that ‘Dagga Boy Buffalo Bull’ and if we are lucky some Tiger fishing on the lake.

“The campfires of memory will burn forever –
Their fuel the voices telling of the day”
Burger

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