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

[dchum]

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

I am again hunting with Philips crew at @KHOMAS HIGHLAND HUNTING SAFARIS

I’m really just going back to travel a bit north with them to try and kill a Damara Dik Dik. And any big pig we see along the way is not safe.

 

[DieJager]

I am again hunting with Philips crew at @KHOMAS HIGHLAND HUNTING SAFARIS

I’m really just going back to travel a bit north with them to try and kill a Damara Dik Dik. And any big pig we see along the way is not safe.

That is really nice. I really want to take a Damara Dik Dik next time I visit the county. They are beautiful animals.

Good luck and keep us posted of your adventure.

 

[DieJager]

Day 4

An early rise, a small breakfast, and off to the new area. First, we stopped to buy lunch, as we’d be eating in the field. One of the bakkies had issues yesterday, so we swapped vehicles in Gobabis. In Gobabis, I met Big Hendrik, the owner, for the first time. He’s one heck of a man—a great, funny guy. I laughed my head off the entire time I spent with him during this safari.

After these tasks, we headed to the hunting area, a half-hour drive south of Gobabis. The weather was even hotter, and there was less vegetation. We planned to try for an impala and a springbok. I’d been told the latter could be difficult, as they’d been hunted hard this season.
We arrived at the farm, which spanned about 10,000 hectares. There was much less vegetation, with a lot of dead bushes. This farm raised goats instead of cows. Hendrik explained that goats are far more destructive to vegetation, and it showed—there was noticeably less grass. It was significantly hotter than the camp near Omitara.

We drove through a small open plain; the heat was scorching. After a while, we entered some thick, dead bushes and stopped the bakkie. Tangini had spotted some springbok, but I didn’t see them. We left the vehicle and entered the thick brush. The dead bushes beneath our feet crunched loudly—they’d hear us coming. About a hundred meters in, Tangini and Hendrik spotted some springbok. Because of the colors of the habitat and the springbok, I didn’t notice them at first. They pointed them out, and then I saw them. We tried to set up the sticks, but the springbok were already gone. This wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

 

[DieJager]

After almost an hour, we called for the bakkie. No luck so far, and we hadn’t seen any impala yet. We drove on, and after a while, we spotted some female impala. Glancing into the brush, we saw a nice male, but before we could turn off the bakkie, he bolted.

We drove further and saw a small group of springbok crossing a road. We stopped the bakkie to take a closer look. Tangini’s eyes widened. The first part of the group had crossed, but toward the back, there seemed to be a male. Tangini got really excited, saying, “Get ready!” and urged me to shoot. Somewhat flabbergasted, I looked at him and calmly said, “We’re in the bakkie, Tangini.” At the start of the hunt, I had discussed how I wanted to hunt: no shooting from the bakkie and at least 200 meters away from the vehicle. Hendrik immediately understood and smiled. Tangini jumped off the bakkie, I handed him the rifle, and I exited the vehicle.

Tangini grabbed the sticks and set them up next to the hood of the bakkie. Hendrik and I looked at each other and laughed. Tangini really wanted me to shoot, but we explained our approach again. Meanwhile, the male disappeared into the bush. Tangini was disappointed but quickly switched gears, and we pursued them. After ten minutes, it was clear the springbok were aware of us. They bolted, and we concluded they were gone. We let them go and called off the pursuit. Tangini was disappointed, saying it was a really big male. Well, that’s hunting, not just shooting. Hendrik agreed—we were here to hunt, not just to shoot.

We headed back to the bakkie. On the way, we saw some female impala and decided to follow them, hoping a male was nearby. We stalked them for about 20 minutes. Did I mention it was hot already?

We got closer and had a good look, but there was no male. To our left, there was an opening followed by a patch of open, sandy plain. We saw movement—a group of springbok, possibly the same group we’d pursued earlier. We sneaked closer. In the back was a large male. The distance was about 150 meters. We set up the sticks, and there was an small opening between some dead branches. First, some females passed, then a pause with no movement—the male was out of sight. It felt like an eternity, with sweat pouring down my forehead. Then the male appeared, but he was walking and didn’t stop. I decided to take a shot. Boom—he went down, but it seemed like a spine shot near the back. Did it deflect off some branches? We approached, and the springbok tried to get up. I took a second shot, hitting near the shoulder, and that was the end. We got closer, and Hendrik and Tangini were silent. When we reached it, the springbok let out its last breath and expired on the spot. This was a monster springbok—the biggest Hendrik had taken in his young career. We were thrilled with how it turned out. We took some pictures, had a quick cigarette break, and drank lots of water. A beautiful specimen.

We decided to find a shady spot to eat lunch. As we searched for shade, Tangini spotted a big impala male. Hendrik and I hadn’t seen him. Lunch was postponed for the moment. We exited the bakkie and tried to get a closer look. Opa drove the bakkie away. We stalked closer and were almost within shooting distance when my binoculars swung against my rifle, making a metallic sound that rang through the bush. Hendrik and Tangini looked at me, and I apologized. The impala heard the noise and walked away.

We decided to head to a side road, hoping they were still close and we could cut them off. In the dry bushveld, we spotted the impala again. They noticed we were pursuing them. We saw the big male, quartering away, staring at us. I could make the shot. I took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger. It seemed like a good shot. The impala dropped. We approached, and it was a good shot—blood was coming from its mouth. Shortly afterward, the magnificent animal expired. Two animals in quick succession—what a morning! It was already past lunchtime as we took some pictures. We carried the impala to a nearby road where we could load it into the bakkie. We headed to the farm to gut and skin the animals. There, Hendrik and I ate our lunch. I was sweating profusely. The meat went to the farmer and his employees. As I ate, I watched Tangini, Opa, and some farm staff skin the animals.

We prepared for the ride back to Omitara camp. It was almost 4:00 PM when we returned. I decided to call it a day. I had a quick chat with the two remaining German hunters, who said they were going on their last outing. I opted for a nap in the meantime.

In the evening, we had our last meal together and said farewell to the two German hunters—really nice guys. That evening, the rains finally arrived in Africa. Everyone was happy to see the rain; Namibia desperately needed it. After a few beers and the farewell, I turned in early.

To be continued...

 

[PARA45]

Wow, those two are monsters, congratulations! Can't wait to read what's next.

 

[cpr0312]

Looking great so far and congrats! Look forward to more

 

[DieJager]

Looking great so far and congrats! Look forward to more

Thank you. Next installments are about trying to get the little ones, steenbok and duiker.

 

[VertigoBE]

Waidmannsheil again @DieJager

What a huge springbok !

 

[DieJager]

Waidmannsheil again @DieJager

What a huge springbok !

Thanks brother

 

[DieJager]

Day 5

An early rise. The night brought a lot of rain. After breakfast, Tangini, the driver (whose name I forgot—it wasn’t Opa), and I set out for duiker and steenbok. We hunted an adjacent plot next to the farm where we were staying, where duiker and steenbok could be hunted. Tangini thought steenbok would be possible, but the duiker would be challenging, as they aren’t numerous. He suggested switching areas. I planned to discuss this with Big Hendrik during lunchtime when he arrived with the last hunting group of the year.

We drove to the neighbor’s adjacent plot, separated only by low cattle fences. It was drizzling; the rain hadn’t stopped, though its intensity had decreased during the night. It occasionally paused. Still, it was getting hot. We stopped near a dry riverbed. This area was more open, with shorter bushes but still plenty of cover for small antelopes. We looked for spoor in the riverbed, as Tangini believed this was our best chance to find a duiker. While searching, a female steenbok bolted away. After a while, we found fresh duiker spoor. For over an hour, we tried to get close, occasionally losing the spoor, but to no avail—not a single sighting.

We called for the bakkie. We spotted a few female steenbok but had no luck with males. We saw some spoor and tried to catch up, but it was fruitless. It was nearing lunchtime, so we headed back to camp. As we were almost back, near our original hunting area, we saw a decent male steenbok. We decided to try our luck, and I thought it best to shoot center mass to preserve the shoulder for a mount. I have to confess, this wasn’t my finest hunting moment.

I hit him center mass with the 30-06, nearly splitting him in half, and with his guts out, he bolted away. He fell near a bush. I aimed for the spine near the back legs, hoping to end it quickly. Boom—his lower body was nearly gone. Amazingly, when we approached, the steenbok was still breathing. We quickly ended his suffering. The whole ordeal was over within a minute, but I was distressed. I’d read advice to aim center mass for smaller species to allow for mounting, but seeing this result, I’ll opt for a shot behind the shoulder through the lungs next time, unless I have a solid bullet. Luckily, I’d have a chance to redeem myself a day later.

I thanked the steenbok for its life and apologized for my poor shooting decisions. We took some pictures and headed back to camp, but first, we stopped at the farm owner’s place, where the employees received the meat (what was left of it, anyway).

While driving back, Tangini spotted movement—two jackals running away. We stopped the bakkie, and I took a freehand shot, standing in the back of the bakkie. The distance was about 130 meters. I placed the crosshair slightly ahead of the animal and took a running shot. I yelled, “In die kont!”—roughly translated as “in the arse.” That’s where I hit it. The driver and Tangini weren’t sure I’d hit it, given the distance, but I was confident. Sure enough, we found it with a bullet near the back end but instant death.

Back at camp, Big Hendrik had arrived with the new group of German hunters. They introduced themselves, and some mistook me for one of their PHs for the hunt. No, I’m just a client!

I discussed plans with Big Hendrik. He thought that near Gobabis, and possibly a bit further, we’d have the best chance to take a nice duiker. I could stay at his home in Gobabis for my remaining days and hunt from there. It sounded like a good plan. Tangini and Young Hendrik would stay with the new group of German hunters. We said goodbye. I’d grown really fond of Young Hendrik—we clicked well, being roughly the same age. We’ll definitely hunt together again in the future, so it wasn’t a permanent goodbye.

I rode with Big Hendrik, his wife Trudy, and Young Hendrik’s wife, Bianca. The drive was great fun—Big Hendrik is quite the character. We stopped for dinner, and Big Hendrik was a fantastic host. It was a splendid meal. We arrived at their beautiful home in Gobabis—a great place with a lovely garden and a watchtower. You could tell he lived in South Africa until recently; security was clearly on his mind. Over the next few days, we almost became family. I truly appreciated their hospitality—they’re wonderful people.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll go with Big Hendrik and his tracker, Kelvin. There’s a really nice duiker in the area, and we’ll try to go after it. Multiple sightings have been reported, so hopefully, we can find this big one.

To be continued...

 

[DieJager]

Day 6

I slept extremely well last night in Hendrik and Trudy’s house. I turned in early after dining out with Hendrik, Trudy, and Bianca. I also enjoyed a nice long shower. Their hospitality is unmatched. Bianca, Trudy, and Big Hendrik made our time together unforgettable. Not to forget Young Hendrik and all the Black staff, with a special shout-out to Tangini, Marianne, and Opa—all wonderful people, along with those whose names I’ve forgotten to mention.

Let’s continue the story.

It’s lightly raining as we leave the house and head to the hunting area. We pass a security post where a guard opens a small, low fence gate to let us in. The guard confirms a big duiker has been seen nearby. The rain’s intensity increases. Kelvin, perched on top of the vehicle, spots some spoor. Off we go.

Kelvin confirms it’s definitely a duiker. The rain continues to intensify. Then I spot a duiker in the bushes ahead. The problem is that Big Hendrik, leading the way, doesn’t see it and keeps walking. I tap him on the shoulder; he stops and looks at me. Kelvin sees the duiker, and now Hendrik does too. Before we can act, it bolts. Hendrik confirms it’s a big duiker, but it knows we’re onto it, and it’s pouring rain.

We make a plan: Kelvin and I will follow the spoor, while Big Hendrik drives the vehicle further down the road to scout. We track the spoor but end up running in circles. We call Hendrik and return to the bakkie. My clothes are soaked. When we open the bakkie door, Hendrik is sitting behind the wheel, half-naked. We burst out laughing—quite the sight, Big Hendrik without a shirt! Hunting in the heat and now the rain is tough, but we’re blessed with the rain.

We drive for about an hour with no sightings. As the rain reduces to a drizzle, Kelvin spots fresh spoor. We follow it, with Kelvin setting a fast pace—maybe too fast, but it’s our first day hunting together, so I need to adjust to his style. Thirty minutes in, I see a duiker. I can’t identify its sex, but Kelvin sets up the sticks and says it’s a shooter. We make too much noise, and it bolts. We follow for another 30 minutes, but to no avail—running in circles again. The rain picks up.

We return to the bakkie and try for a short while longer, but there’s no success. It’s halfway through the morning. Big Hendrik has a backup plan: an area over an hour south, much drier with less vegetation and a good duiker population, where we have a better chance. He calls Chili, who knows the area, to pick me up at his house. We drive south, and the weather clears up as we go.

We arrive around noon. It’s very hot, dry, and indeed has less vegetation, reminding me of the Kalahari region I visited in South Africa while hunting with De Klerk Safaris. This time, I hunt with Chili, and Kelvin tracks again. Just ten minutes in, we see a couple of duikers, but they bolt when they spot us. Over the next hour, we see numerous steenbok, a group of springbok, and spoor from a big kudu, but no more duiker sightings. Chili is confident we’ll get one today.

We decide to have lunch in the field. While eating, we spot a duiker and slowly approach, but it’s onto us and bolts. The next couple of hours are scorching hot, with almost no sightings, and I’m burning up. Around 3:00 PM, we see movement near a bush in the distance. We leave the bakkie and slowly approach where we last saw it. It’s a steenbok, not a duiker. Chili asks if I want to try. I admit it’s much bigger than the one I took yesterday, and that experience left a bad taste, so I’ll take this chance to redeem myself. We set up the sticks, but the steenbok takes off, running about 150 meters to another bush. We watch it for a while, and then it slowly moves out on the other side. We reposition the sticks. I see it through my scope at about 180 meters. It stops, looking toward us but standing broadside. I place the crosshair just behind the shoulder, take the shot, and it’s gone.

We move to where it disappeared, and there it lies—shot perfectly behind the shoulder. Some high-fives, pictures, and back to our primary target, the duiker. What a relief—redemption! This one also has considerably larger horns.

 

[DieJager]

We drive further and spot a duiker foraging in the distance. We stop the bakkie and try to get closer. This time, everything feels right: the wind is good, and the duiker hasn’t sensed us. We close in; it’s a representative male duiker—not a monster, but I’m happy to take it. We get to about 100 meters and set up the sticks. I place the crosshair behind the shoulder and pull the trigger. Damn it—I forgot to take the safety off. I try again, but—click, no boom. I cycle the bolt, and an empty casing ejects. After shooting the steenbok, I handed the rifle to Kelvin, who didn’t reload and only put the safety on. My fault for not checking before starting the stalk. Now the duiker is looking at us. Luckily, it doesn’t run. I finally fire, and down it goes. We walk up, and it’s dead. Finally, we got one! Everyone is thrilled.

We decide to call it a day. We visit Chili’s aunt and uncle, who live on the property. We enjoy some cold beers and a shot of liquor. My native Dutch tongue is close to Afrikaans, so we converse easily, though it gets tricky when they speak quickly.

We head back to Gobabis, drinking a couple of beers on the road. Chili asks if I want to go for a drink in town. I consider it. Back at Hendrik’s place, I freshen up. Chili asks if I’m serious about going into town. Why not? In the meantime, we drink some beers and brandies. Honestly, I’m already quite lit. Big Hendrik seals the deal, handing Chili a stack of bills and saying, “Have fun.” Off we go—it’s about 6:00 PM.
I think we hit every bar. My Dutch came in handy when talking with locals. It’s 2:30 AM when we leave the last bar. I made numerous friends, and my Afrikaans improved the more I drank.

My hunting list is complete, so Day 7 will involve no more hunting—just reflecting on this great trip and relaxing.
In the next installments, I’ll cover the rest day and my departure from Windhoek. A final installment may follow with a postscript, including afterthoughts and details I forgot to mention.

To be continued...

 

[VertigoBE]

Love this story, your writing and the results! This is a great safari!

 

[cpr0312]

Looks like a great hunt and great time had, congrats!

 

[DieJager]

Looks like a great hunt and great time had, congrats!

Thank you!

 

[PARA45]

Wonderful safari, congratulations on some beautiful animals taken. Thank you for taking us along.

 

[DieJager]

Wonderful safari, congratulations on some beautiful animals taken. Thank you for taking us along.

Thank you. Appreciate it. Last installments are in the making, story isn't finished yet .

 

[DieJager]

Day 7 - rest day

I woke up with quite a hangover. What a night! I had plenty of adventures the previous evening and met some incredible people with great stories. These tales are best shared over a few beers.

I relaxed for the rest of the afternoon. In the evening, we had dinner together. To cure my hangover, Big Hendrik took me to a local bar for drinks with a couple of his friends. It was a great decision—a few beers in, and my hangover was gone. Magic!

One of his friends (I forgot his name) saw me, immediately recognized me, and yelled “Kaaskop” (English: Cheesehead). I recognized him from the night before—we had been partying at the same biker bar. Small world.

While drinking, it started to rain. Everyone was happy about it. A few beers later, we decided to head home. The next day was departure day. We planned to visit a curio shop, and I had a meeting with the owner of First Class Namibia, the sister company of First Class Trophy, which would handle my trophies.

 

[DieJager]

Departure day

We had a good breakfast. I tipped the staff, and they made a video of the amount I gave, which would be divided among the Black staff at the end of the season. I also tipped Little Hendrik and Bianca, handing the money to her as per Big Hendrik’s instructions. It was sad to leave, but I made friends for life. I’ll definitely return in the future. Their hospitality will forever be etched in my memories.

Big Hendrik drove me to the airport, but first, we stopped at Trophaendienste Taxidermy & Curios. I had an evening flight, so there was plenty of time. It was a nice, big shop with a large taxidermy workshop you could walk around. I forgot to take pictures, but it was impressive.

After visiting the shop, we went to one of the better steakhouses in Windhoek for dinner, where I met Stefanus, the owner of First Class Namibia, who handles the dip and pack process. Stefanus is a wonderful guy with a great sense of humor and a pleasant personality. Communication with him was, and still is, excellent. We decided what to do with the trophies: a mix of shoulder mounts and European mounts. For the last steenbok I took, we’ll use its horns but the cape from the first one, as we only saved the skull and horns of the second.

We agreed to finalize some decisions later, such as the color for the shields of the European mounts. After finishing our meals, we said goodbye, promising to stay in touch.

Then it was off to the airport. After quick goodbyes, my incredible hunt with Hendrik and Trudy Safaris came to an end. I wrapped up the trip with a few whiskies at the airport bar.

Then came the long flight back to Frankfurt.

 

[DieJager]

Wrap-up and reflections

Some points in no particular order.

I made it back to Frankfurt Airport. Aside from some passengers bickering and having an altercation about reclining seats during the flight, I had a good nap. It’s a night flight, people—what did you expect?

I used a third-party valet parking service via Parkos, parking from Sunday, November 3rd, to Tuesday, November 12th, for only 80 euros. Great service—the guy was perfectly on time and deserved a tip. Talk about great value for your money.

On the way back on the Autobahn, they caught me for—yes, speeding. Go figure. A few weeks later, I received a speeding ticket in the mail. Lovely how the European Union and its countries work together…

Gear I brought on the safari: My Havalon knife with replaceable surgical blades. I lent it to one of the skinners, who was thrilled with it for skinning my animals, especially the detailed work. I only had one replacement blade, so gifting him the knife wasn’t an option—it would’ve been useless in no time.

I brought my Karl Kaps binoculars (8x56). Nice, clear glass. I use them extensively at home and during the safari. So far, so good.

My hunting agent was “Faszination Jagdreisen.” No complaints—good communication. I checked reviews and comments before booking. I openly discussed some negative reviews with the agent, and his explanation was compelling and seemed truthful. I asked for references, got them, and spoke with them—everything checked out. I’d book with this agent again in a heartbeat.

Things I’d do differently: This time, I winged it, sort of. I only told my agent I wanted an impala, oryx, and springbok. Due to work and time constraints, I did almost no planning. Next time, I’d want to know more about the areas where different species are located to reduce travel between areas. But this is all my fault—no blame on the outfitter.

That concludes the story. Thank you all for following, reading, and commenting on my adventure. Feedback is always appreciated. What did you enjoy? What do you want to know more about? Have I forgotten anything?

Salute to my brothers and sisters of the best hunting forum in the world!

The end