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Hi friends

Sorry for delaying my report, but I am so enthralled with this incredible hunting vacation that I decided to wait a bit to cool down.

Note that I didn't read John's post , this is my (shorter) report. Seems that we are descripting the same hunt.

A great country, incredible friends and a memorable hunt.

What happens was that I planned 3 weeks vacation in August on the French Riviera with my wife. And bang, John invited me without notice the week before my vacation. That means 4 weeks out of work. The invitation was so great that in 2 hours I took my decision to join him, stealing 3 days from my vacation with my wife.

It resulted in 2 months deeply rejoicing and preparing for this hunt.

As bringing a rifle in any country is ever a pita, following John’s advice, I opted for bringing a bow and arrows instead of my 375 Sauer.

At this point, zeroing the bow was a real challenge. The bow should be potent enough for buff, but must also shoot lighter wild boars arrows atop of buff arrows I won’t go into details but it was a 2 months long 2 hours a day business. My 100# bow even downgraded to 91# wasn’t a good option. Should I be in lesser form I wouldn’t have managed to shoot it. I resorted to my 70# bowtech and did my best to have it shoot buff heavy arrow and lighter one for wild boar or light game. A real fun and depressing quest. Anyhow I managed.

Then came my kit options. John assured me that I didn’t have to bring anything for living in the bush. But the dilemma was still pregnant. How to pack hunting items and hunting clothing, as well as summer clothing for the Riviera. Yes, no choice, I also needed to pack what was necessary to look decent on the riviera with the wife, especially in the posh city, Cannes. I couldn’t fly home and then fly to Cannes. Quite challenging.

I left my home the 6th August afternoon. My wife drove me to a bus station in Germany (18 km far from my home) for a hop to the Frankfurt airport. I was then very pissed.
I decided to pack all my kit in my bow case. Sadly, I lended this case to a friend that was good enough to bring it back the day previous my departure. One hinge on 4 was erased, so I was forced to stick some tape on it.
The temperature was 40-41°C and the tape was getting off, pissing me. A real risk of having all my items lost during the flight.
In the bus, it happened that I was the only customer. Nice to have a bus for oneself but just imagine 2 idiots, the chauffeur and I, alone in an air con bus, prevented from chatting because of the regulations.

At Frankfurt airport, I took off at 10 pm without any hassle and 15 hours later landed in Singapore airport. I refrained as much as possible to sleep to allay a coming jetlag. A 16 hour stay in the airport wasn’t very appealing, so I had a 2 hours tour in Singapore by night. Really worth of it as Singapore was just commemorating its 50 year of existence. Of course I let back my cam in a taxi cab, a cam that I bought 4 months ago in the Singapore airport. Too bad, no way out of once again buying a cam in the airport. The bright side of this annoyance was preventing me from sleeping and this way to cope with the incoming 8 hour jetlag.

Eventually I landed in Darwin at 2 pm. Some jolly moment waiting for my bow case that didn’t come. Disgusted, I made for the lost luggage office when I saw in a corner my bow case. When I arrived for clearing the customs, I was the last and only one. This case of course attracted the customs officers that very amiably asked to check it as it looked like containing a rifle. A 30 second affair. And right now I had my first inkling of Aussies : serious and friendly.

In the airport hall I tried to call John, but my phone for a while refused any connection, what brought some stress, as John had told me he was not sure to arrive in time. Anyhow 15 minutes later (2 cigarettes) he arrived.

A cheerful meeting of course. On the parking lot I discovered his monster Toyota laden to a point one can imagine, the inside as well as the top rack. Sure we won’t lack any thing.
We drove a couple of hours before stopping for the night in a motel. Incredibly, when having lunch in the restaurant, I saw the stuffed Crocodile Dundee buffalo, remaining me of already having had a drink there in 2006.

Monday morning we met Clayton in his office. Most of You know him, but for those who don’t, imagine a young cheerful guy with plenty of humour. He got to great lengths to explain us how to deal in the ranch we will hunt, along with quite a few laughs.

Now it’s time to be honest. I can read English without needing any dictionary. I can write English more or less. But I am not accustomed to hear English. When meeting John who speaks real English with a slight Australian accent, I was hardly able to understand 75% of what he was saying. Confronted to Clayton, I hardly understood 30% of what he said. A real horrific situation, for me and for Clayton. Fortunately friendship makes miracles.

Then we paid a visit to Pato and his family. Happy meeting but I was at lost with taking my part in this cordial meeting because of my struggling with coping with the Australian accent. Pato showed us his 14 foot croc hide and I was impressed with the size of the monster and of the upper quality of the tanning. Sadly Pato had to go to work and don’t count on me to slander on hard working guys. And later, Pato had no opportunity to join us, I regret it, as we could have had a jolly good time.

Then we went to the ranch from Katherine. A large ranch on a flat dry (at this time of the year) terrain. Imagine sort of a triangle between 2 rivers. It’s dry grass in a sort of a forest where small and medium trees grow every 5 m. See the picture.

Clayton had us scuttled the most part of the ranch to get us accustomed to this fenced territory. Up to us to shoot buffalos, as they are there considered vermin, as well as wild cattle. He showed us 2 places along the main river where we can camp. He gave us 50+ lures (rapalas) for fishing barramundi, a trident for fishing prawns and an iridium cell phone, and the absolute weapon, a garmin GPS logging the tracks, the rivers, the fences, and the best hunting spots.

We set our camp close to the river in a place where the river is very narrow and shallow, the clear running water allowing US to have a bath without being puzzled by possible crocs.

Setting the camp was a grand moment for me. John brought whatever You can imagine. 6 guns, fishing gear of course but tents, sleeping bags, 1 freezer-fridge, 1 fridge, a generator, a 3 fired stove, comfortable chairs and table………along with varied food for accommodating demanding customers for a month……along with whatever cooking ustensils you can imagine. Cold beer and wine,……….incredible, that has to be seen to be believed. John presented me with his 375.

I checked it , shooting 4cm high at 100m, what means a rifle zeroed to shoot at 200m. We opted for sleeping under the stars, they well deserve it. And no mosquitos to pester us. Sort of back to the earthly paradise.
The first morning we scouted upstream of the main river. Not that many tracks of buff or wild boars but a good training with coping with the lantanas. The afternoon, we checked downstream.
I realized that hunting in dry land isn’t easy when one want to move noiselessly. What is reassuring is that the ranch is harboring 3000 heads of cattle, and that the buffalo might believe that the noise of our footing is cattle’s.

The days later, we tried our luck diagonally opposite close to the second river where a young bull was often looking at us at 50m. More fresh tracks there. We persisted in this area, looking for a brook that in fact was dry. We made a terrible mistake with this brook but John perhaps can explain it, we were so dumb!!!!!!

It appeared that this east part of the ranch, more watered, was the most promising. Especially a marsh covered in wallows.

So far we saw a scampering herd of cows and calves not far from our camp, the dumb young buff 3 times, and approaching cows and calves and a herd in the vicinity of the bog. This place was to be hunted thoroughly as haphazardly looking for solitary trophy buffs failed. Also 2 wild cattle, but we let them alone, not wanting to shoot and alert the buffalo.

The 5th day in the morning close the marsh when having seen cows and calves we bumped onto a young bull by himself. As next day I’d have to fly back, I decided to shoot him. Sadly during my approach, I bumped my quiver against a branch and the bull got startled. No chance for a close approach for shooting with the bow. I resorted to the rifle, but the bull was now upset and slowly departing. At 60m broadside, I shot it behind its right shoulder, he marked and trotted away. In this circumstance, I lacked judgement. I was waiting for him to fall down and didn’t shoot again, especially because I am not an adept to the Texas heart shot. Beyond 100 m he stopped broadside and both we shot. He came a bit toward us and I let go a raking shot when he was quartering toward us.
He then galloped in our direction. John was clearly ahead of me, so only he could shoot and he knocked it over, a clear impressive dead right there. What a lesson, this Australian buffalo are incredibly bulletproof compared to the African’s.

That was a collective shooting and definitely better fun.
You can’t imagine how I was pleased after 6 days of scouting the whole area to bag a nice bull with such an indecisive shooting, my spirits going high, low and high. Pure joy. Not a coveted trophy, but for me an incredible souvenir of a memorable week of hunt and sharing friendship. We spent the afternoon cleaning the trophy and lazing. And what a memorable dinner!!!!

I regret we couldn’t shoot another buff for John, but that he managed a couple of days later, to my relieve, feeling a bit egoistical.

Next day, we visited Clayton, as cheerful as ever. I thank him very much for this so generous invitation and for taking charge of my trophy to dip, clear and ship it.
John drove me to Darwin from where I flought to Singapore, Zurich and Cannes, full of happiness and nostalgy.
Our hunting kit. John was using his famous double and no less that a 20kg rucksack full of whatever items we might use, let alone every pockets filled. A no nonsense guy, and a strong guy too. My kit was light, the 375, my bow and arrow, a knife, my binocs, a cam and a bottle of water. Not more. John acted as guide most of the time.

What I’ll ever remember is the good time we spent. We hunted reasonably, not hard but astutely. The pleasure was also to enjoy the bush, being free as a bird without any pressure. And most of it chatting no end between friends. John is very heartful, educated and open to the whole world, has a lot of knowledges making him a perfect companion. Every night after a serious dinner, we were chatting about lots of points, a rare pleasure.

Same with Australians. I met them when shopping. All are very cool and friendly, quite different from Europeans.
And now I am just looking to come back to meet John again, and Australia which is a fantastic country that turns You addict of.

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"I don't want to create an encyclopedic atmosphere here when we might be having a beer instead" P H Capstick in "Safari the last adventure."

Edited by NitroX (24/09/15 06:42 PM)

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