NAMIBIA: 7 Days Of Hunting In The Omaheke Region With Hendrik & Trudy Safaris

[DieJager]

* disclaimer. I used AI to correct the grammar and sentence structure. My English is not that good

Day 1

After stepping off the plane, I was immediately greeted by a beautiful sunny day and stunning scenery. Windhoek’s airport is small. I joined the line at border control and customs. Customs took a while, but it wasn’t excessively long. I wasn’t traveling with my own firearms.

I flew directly from Frankfurt Airport with Discover Airlines. Apart from some minor inconveniences, it was an uneventful flight. However, the flight wasn’t entirely without incident. Just after takeoff, as I was trying to sleep with my baseball cap over my eyes, an older man seated behind me (as I later discovered) attempted to sit on my lap. I sat upright and gently tried to push him away. The passenger next to me thought it was my dad or a joke, but the man persisted. I held him off while telling the passenger beside me that the man didn’t seem alright. The passenger realized it wasn’t a joke and asked the man what he was doing. He looked dazed, then passed out and fell next to my seat.

As he fell, he released some bodily gases. I thought he had died right there and soiled himself for the last time. Fortunately, a medic was onboard and quickly assessed the situation. He asked me to hold the man’s legs up. After a few moments, the man regained consciousness. I thought the trip might end early, assuming we’d return to the airport. Luckily, he recovered quickly, and everything was fine. He and his wife apologized to me. I told them there was nothing to apologize for—it wasn’t intentional. I was glad to help. If it happens again, I’d prefer it be a young female model.

After clearing customs, I was welcomed by the lovely Bianca. She and her young husband both work with Hendrik and Trudy Safaris (referred to as HTS in this hunting report). Her husband, “Little” or “Young” Hendrik, is the nephew of the owner, Big Hendrik, and a junior professional hunter (PH). Most days, I would hunt with Little Hendrik.

Bianca escorted me to the car, where Opa was waiting to drive me to the lodge. Bianca had other business to attend to in Windhoek, as they had just started a car rental business alongside the safaris.

The drive to the camp took about an hour. While driving, I spotted a nice hartebeest resting in the shade under a tree. Yes, we’re in Africa! After a while, we reached a small, low gate. Just beyond it, I saw a huge baboon—I’d love to get one of those. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the camp near a small mountain. The nearest town was Omitara, so this was the Omitara camp.
I met Little Hendrik, and afterward, Marjan, the camp cook, prepared a quick lunch for me. There were three other hunters from Germany at the camp—great people with a lot of hunting and life experience. We shared good stories and memories. They were mainly culling.

 

[DieJager]

I took a short rest, but it was more of a brief daze—too much excitement. Hendrik and I sat down to discuss plans. Honestly, I had no plan this time. I booked the trip a couple of months earlier, and with work keeping me busy, I barely prepared. We discussed a 7-day hunt, the price list, and my interest in oryx, springbok, and impala. My wife, who handles our interior design, insisted on an impala. I had to negotiate since I wanted trophies in the house, but she wanted some control. I showed her some animals and taxidermy work, and she settled on the impala. I knew they weren’t native to the region I’d be hunting, but a happy wife…

Hendrik and I made a list. Besides the oryx, springbok, and impala, we’d target a red hartebeest. I also thought it was a good idea to start pursuing the Tiny Ten. Since impala weren’t in the area, we’d need to go elsewhere for them. If we saw a nice warthog, we’d go for it. We’d also take what Africa offered, with the option to cull eland, zebra, and wildebeest if I wanted. No trophies for those species were available, as the quotas were filled, which was also the case for kudu in that area.

The area we hunted was managed by a farmer with strict quotas. Since my visit was at the end of the season, trophies for those species were no longer available. The area spanned about 33,000 hectares with low cattle fencing—a vast bushveld with plenty of oryx.

We had a rough plan. I told them I wanted to hunt hard but with no pressure. I was also there to relax and go with the flow.

Next, we tested the rental rifle, a Steyr 30-06 with a suppressor and S&B ammunition. It was dead-on, and with the suppressor, there was almost no recoil. I wish we could have those at home.

We loaded up the bakkie with Little Hendrik and my experienced Black PH, Tangini (I might have misspelled his name). I told them both, “No pressure—everything will be fine.” I jokingly added that I wanted a 40-inch oryx, a 30-inch impala, and a 20-inch springbok, and we’d be good. Tangini gave me a funny look, but when I said I was kidding, he smiled. Little Hendrik was laughing his head off, saying, “This is going to be fun.” Hell yeah—hunting, joking, and drinking beer afterward. Life is beautiful.

We saw plenty of oryx, including a couple of good shooters, but our stalks failed a few times. The golden hour—the last hour of light—was upon us. We were already heading back toward camp when we spotted a few oryx. We decided to give it one last try. The temperature was well above 30°C, and it was dry. If the animals didn’t see you, they’d hear you.

It was 6:00 PM, and I was hungry after just a small lunch. But we went all in for the final hour. The oryx bull had not one but two cows with him. We stopped the bakkie a couple hundred meters from where we saw them and made a quick plan to stalk through some bushes. After closing some distance, they were moving slowly. We were almost close enough to set up the shooting sticks, but we didn’t have a clear view. We had to cover more ground, but now they were getting wary—they knew something was up. We reached an opening in the bushes and quickly set up the sticks. The first cow had already passed. I was ready as the second cow moved slowly, followed by the bull. I took a quick shot, and the bull went down instantly, only to recover quickly and make a run for it. Tangini thought I’d hit the spine, but I knew the shot was lower and good. We pursued it.

 

[DieJager]

We found the oryx bedded, trying to run again. I took a running shot, and he went down once more. When we caught up, he was still breathing. We saw both entry points perfectly on the shoulder, just a few centimeters apart. To end his suffering, I shot him in the neck, and the bull passed quickly.

* Those are not exit or entry wounds. Just blood Entry wounds are on the other side. The shadow in the picture is me digitally removed

It was an exciting end to the first day and a fine trophy. I forgot the exact measurements, but I estimated it at 38 inches. I’ll measure it when the trophy arrives home. We exchanged high-fives, took the obligatory photos, and headed back to camp as the last light faded and darkness set in.

Back at camp, the German hunters were already there. They came to see the oryx, and we shook hands—Waidmannsheil! They congratulated me on my oryx.

Dinner was almost ready. Still pumped with adrenaline, I went to shower. While showering, I reflected on life and how this was another blessed day.

Refreshed, I grabbed a drink, and soon dinner was served. Marjan’s cooking was excellent. I enjoyed some brandies and a couple of beers before heading to bed.

To be continued...

 

[Sika98k]

Good start . I see Hendrick has upgraded the camp. I hunted there in 2022 and 2023. The accommodation was tented.

 

[DieJager]

Good start . I see Hendrick has upgraded the camp. I hunted there in 2022 and 2023. The accommodation was tented.View attachment 680013

Almost the same angle, yes he upgraded. Hope you had a great hunt. I did for sure.

 

[DieJager]

Edit: Forget to mention the dates I departed 3 November 2024 and flew back on the 11th of November 2024

 

[DieJager]

Day 2

I had a good rest, aside from a small intermezzo during the night. Those few drinks made me need the bathroom in the middle of the night, and I woke up with a painful headache. I hadn’t drunk enough water during and after the hunt. I finished my last water and went back to sleep, reminding myself to drink more during the day. It’s a bad habit of mine—not drinking enough water. Morning came, and my headache was gone. I had a good night’s rest.

I was the first one up, enjoying the wildlife and the birds chirping.

After a light breakfast, we decided to go after a hartebeest. There were a few permits left. I asked for more water bottles and forced myself to drink every half hour for the rest of the hunt. Tip: make this a habit.

The morning was hot, with multiple failed stalks. We didn’t even get close to the hartebeest. When we spotted them, they were far in the distance. Every time we thought we were getting closer, they were onto us. I sweated a lot, walked a lot, and also drank enough.

Tangini searching for Hartebeest

We decided to head back for lunch. After the previous evening, Marjan, the cook, knew I ate more than the other hunters and adjusted accordingly. I wasn’t disappointed. For the rest of the hunt, she paid extra attention to my needs. I wasn’t complaining, but my young PH, Hendrik, communicated that I needed more protein. I work out a lot, so the fuel is necessary. He’s going to be a great PH, taking good care of his hunters.
In the afternoon, we prepared for round two. We were confident we could get closer to the hartebeest. Hermann, a German hunter in the camp, asked if he could tag along. Of course, no problem. He aimed to cull something if the opportunity arose, but the main priority was my hartebeest.

After driving for over half an hour, we spotted a small group of what looked like hartebeest in the distance. We confirmed they were hartebeest and decided to pursue them. It was scorching hot. After an hour of walking and tracking the group, we were slowly getting within shooting distance. They were still about 300 meters away. Slowly but surely, we closed the gap. Just when we thought we were within range, we spooked a nearby steenbok. It jumped and ran toward the hartebeest, spooking them, and they were gone. Bummer!

We tried several more times, but to no avail. After over two hours in the heat trying to get closer, I was ready for a break. We called for the bakkie. Meanwhile, Hermann had been relaxing in the bakkie. He had been hunting for almost two weeks across several areas and was taking it easy. We decided to drive and try again if an opportunity arose. The sun was nearing sunset. Tangini spotted some oryx—no trophies, but one could be culled. Hermann wanted to try, and I said no problem. This time, I’d take a break in the bakkie. Young Hendrik and Tangini accompanied Hermann, while I stayed with the driver, Opa. I learned that anyone older is called “oompie” (uncle), and even older is “opa” (grandpa).
I was relaxing, cooling down, and drinking water. But only a few minutes later, Tangini returned—they had spotted some hartebeest. Off we went. Some distance away, Hermann was waiting with Hendrik. We tried as a group to get closer. After a few hundred meters, the pace was too much for Hermann. He stayed back with Hendrik, while Tangini and I tried to close the distance. But this time, the hartebeest spotted us from a distance and took off. This was going to be harder than expected.

We walked for a while longer but saw no signs of the hartebeest. We decided to head to a nearby dirt road and call the bakkie. Hermann was also unsuccessful. It was getting dark quickly now. On the way back, we spotted some zebras, but they ran off fast. We decided to call it a day. No success, but we were determined to succeed the next day. That’s hunting.

Back at camp, we enjoyed a good meal and some drinks. I turned in early that night, this time with more water for the night.

Around two in the morning, I woke up. This would happen most nights during the hunt. My body itched from mosquito bites—not too bad, just annoying. I drank some water, swatted a few mosquitoes, and went back to bed. Strangely, in the mornings, the bites didn’t itch and were almost invisible. It was only at night that I sometimes woke up.

 

[VertigoBE]

Looking forward to the next installments! This will be great!

 

[DieJager]

Day 3

Another day, another chance. I thought a lot about yesterday’s failed stalks. During breakfast, Young Hendrik admitted to doing the same. He hadn’t slept well, dreaming of the hartebeest. If we weren’t successful by simply following their tracks, we could try to cut off the hartebeest, making an educated guess instead. We’d also keep our scopes low to the ground at all times and tuck away anything that could reflect the sun under our shirts. The hartebeest had been aware of our presence and outsmarted us so far.

At 6:30 sharp, we set off. After 15 minutes of driving, Tangini heard some jackals and tried to get my attention. At the same time, Hendrik and I heard some zebras. Crucial seconds passed before we realized what Tangini was saying. He pointed to a jackal running off, stopping about 80 meters away. I saw it through the dry, dead bushes and took a shot. The jackal was gone. It felt like a great shot. Tangini wasn’t sure, but Hendrik thought we got it. We reached the spot where we last saw the jackal. The spoor told us it had escaped. In the bush, a large branch was broken—a lucky jackal. A dead branch instead of a dead jackal. Better luck next time.

We climbed back into the bakkie and drove on. We saw a few oryx and the occasional steenbok (no quota here; the farmer doesn’t allow them to be hunted), but no hartebeest. It was early morning, but the temperature was already over 30°C.

After a while, Tangini suggested another plan. He knew a place where hartebeest sometimes hung out. We stopped the bakkie near the spot and continued on foot. We found some old spoor but nothing recent, and no sign of hartebeest. We bumped into a few oryx but nothing else. After some time, we called Opa to pick us up nearby.

Spot and stalk it was. Back in the bakkie. It was about 11:00 AM. Ten minutes into the drive, Tangini thought he spotted a few hartebeest. We decided to stalk them. Honestly, I was already getting tired—the heat and failed stalks had worn down my morale. It was a long shot; they were almost 800 meters away. But the extra distance could give us more time and less chance of spooking the hartebeest with the sound of the approaching bakkie.

We tucked our knives under our shirts, kept the rifle low, and put caps on the binoculars. We covered ground quickly. After a while, we came within shooting distance—a couple hundred meters. The sticks went up. My position wasn’t ideal, and the hartebeest were moving slowly. We moved about 50 meters closer. The distance was now about 150 meters. The bull moved behind a bush. The sticks went up again, waiting for him to reappear. There he came—perfect broadside, stopping right where I wanted him. I pulled the trigger, and he went down instantly. Tangini waved me forward, thinking I might have hit near the spine. We approached, and the bull was lying there. It was a perfect high shoulder shot, double lung. The bull was still breathing, so I gave a mercy shot to end his suffering.

Immediately, Hendrik and Tangini jumped in the air. We were all excited—finally! I think we had tried for over 14 hours just to get a shot, and the relief was palpable. A nice old bull. I gave thanks to the animal. We took some pictures. Hendrik had his new dog with him. We made a small blood trail for her to “track” the big animal. She did a great job for her first time. After more pictures, we loaded the hartebeest into the bakkie. I was starving. Back to camp for the lunch Marianne had prepared.

 

[DieJager]

Can you find the kudu?

 

[VertigoBE]

Waidmannsheil @DieJager ! That’s a big hartebeest!

The kudu’s ears give it away

 

[DieJager]

We ate some springbok meat—always delicious. Honestly, everything I ate was great. Hats off to the cook, the lovely Marianne. The dining area was fantastic—an open space for eating and relaxing.

After lunch, I tried to get some rest. I managed a short nap, just a few minutes of sleep. I made a plan for the evening outing and discussed it with Young Hendrik. Earlier that morning, while we were in the bakkie, Hendrik had mentioned a small herd of blue wildebeest that had settled in the area. I suggested looking for them. Hendrik said there was no quota yet from the farmer for a trophy specimen, and finding them would be tough. The area was large, but they knew a few spots where the wildebeest liked to stay. We could look for an old cow with no calves to cull, but Tangini had doubts. If there were any, it would likely be just one. The farmer wanted the group to grow.

Plan B was a possible zebra cull. We had seen one the previous day while driving with Hermann that could be culled. Locating them was another challenge. If we saw a nice warthog, we’d go for it.

This plan was just for the evening. Duiker and steenbok were off-limits by the farmer’s orders. For springbok, there were better opportunities near Gobabis, where we’d hunt tomorrow.

We drove a long time to the area where the wildebeest might be. It was still very hot. The zebra might be in the same spot. This part of the farm was much more open. We drove for a couple of hours without success—no zebras and no sign of the wildebeest. We reached a border fence with the neighboring farm. In between was a small strip of no-man’s-land. On the other farm’s side, we saw what looked like a nice warthog. It appeared old, with one decent tusk visible. After a while, it entered no-man’s-land. We decided to intercept it, hoping it would cross into our hunting area.

The choice it made was fatal. It entered our side. Its pace quickened as it decided to cross the road. I took a running shot, high on the shoulder near the spine. It dropped instantly. A nice old warthog with character. Tangini and Hendrik were surprised by my shot. They thought I’d miss when it picked up speed. Luckily, I surprised them. I regularly shoot standing without support while hunting roe deer at home.

We walked up to the warthog. The other tusk was much smaller. Young Hendrik apologized, but I told him not to be silly—it was a great trophy. This warthog had lived through some stories. The light was fading. Time for a beer. I bummed a cigarette from Young Hendrik—this deserved a smoke. My cigars were back at camp and would come out later that evening. On the way back, we scouted for the wildebeest and zebra but had no luck.

After dinner, I enjoyed a nice cigar, a Cuban Montecristo, and swapped stories with the German hunters. It was Hermann’s last evening; he was leaving tomorrow. The other two would depart on Friday. Tomorrow, we’d head to a different area. My wife wanted an impala, so we’d honor her wishes.

To be continued..

 

[DieJager]

Waidmannsheil @DieJager ! That’s a big hartebeest!

The kudu’s ears give it away

Thanks mate. You have way too good eyes

 

[VertigoBE]

Love that warthog! Well done!

 

[dchum]

Love that old pig!

I can’t wait to be back in Namibia. I need a nice old pig this time

 

[DieJager]

Thanks @VertigoBE and @dchum . @dchum when are you going? You'll definitely need one. And you can never have enough pigs

 

[PARA45]

 

[PARA45]

Beautiful old Warthog. I know a beautiful Warthog.

 

[DieJager]

View attachment 680357

You go through to the next round .

 

[Nyati]

Great pig