hoytcanon
AH fanatic
This will be more of a novelette, than a short hunting "report"... my apologies for my verbosity. If all you are looking for is a recommendation for Khomas Highland Safaris, I will offer it up front and you can skip the rest.
Philip Hennings of Khomas Highkand Safaris is a top-notch gentleman. He and his staff will do their utmost to make your hunting experience exceptional. Philip is very good to communicate and will honor all agreements, you can be assured that you are in good hands. The accommodations are comfortable and the food is excellent, with beer on tap.
I chose to hunt with Khomas Highlands after doing a good bit of research and investigating references and reports. After considering all factors, I chose Philip's operation, my deposit went in and the wait was on. Khomas Highland Safaris, is situated West of Windhoek, Namibia.
I arrived in Windhoek, February 28, 2025, after long flights and layovers, from Ontario, Canada. I chose to bring my own rifle, one that I had made specifically for this hunt, a Ruger M77 Mark II Stainless, with 24" Bob Jury barrel chambered in .375 WSM. I loaded the 235 TSX FB bullets as I felt these would do less damage on the smaller antelope species and hold together well for the larger species. Travelling with your own rifle and ammunition comes with a lot of hassles regarding travel and import paperwork, on both entry and exit. I was willing to accept these irritations in order to hunt with my own gear, being a "Gun Nut," as opposed to renting one of the many rifles available at Khomas. Upon arrival, I was picked up at Hosea Kutako Airport in Windhoek, by Juan van Zyl, one of Philip's PH's. Juan is a sturdy native Namibian, that loves the bushland and game, and in that we found a connection.
Saturday, March 1st;
After a 6 am breakfast, I met PH - Hendrick and Tracker - Dino. We loaded rifle and gear into a Landcruiser and headed out to drive the Khomas Highlands in search of game, with Juan at the wheel... Juan, Hendrick and Dino would be my team for the duration of my stay and I was in good hands. All three have extremely sharp eyes for game and can track a cricket over dry ground.
Along the way we stopped and hiked to vantage points to glass for game. I told the guys I was looking for a short and thick Oryx bull, not a tall and narrow cow. A short while later, while hiking our way up to "Pride Rock" to glass, we bumped into an Oryx bull, but I was too slow to get on him, and he disappeared over a ridge... we trotted up the ridge but the bull had disappeared. After ascending to the top of Pride Rock, we glassed for half an hour and I spotted what I believed to be the same bull far to the west... with nothing showing close by, we then drove many kilometer's of rough back roads in a big loop. Having circled to the west, I kept telling Hendrick that we will shoot the same bull that had run off when we got over a far ridge near a waterhole, Hendrick said that the bull is "far gone"... I insisted we would see him again, Hendrick said "no way." I told Hendrick if we ran into that bull again he needed to apologize to me (all in gest, of course). A couple kilometers later we crossed the water hole and looking back Dino spotted an oryx bull. I grabbed my rifle and Hendrick and Dino led the way on a stalk over hill and through valley. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the Oryx angling back toward us, I whispered for Hendrick to set up the sticks and I was ready to shoot at an opening 50 yards ahead of us on the path of the approaching bull. The Oryx ran through the opening too quickly to get the shot, so we tried to move uphill to get a shot through the brush but the bull spotted us, and ran back across the valley and up the opposite hillside. We quickly moved into a position to see the opposite hillside and Dino and Hendrick "whooped" to stop the running bull at 250 yards, while I settled on the sticks, the Oryx was broadside as it halted to look over at us. I squeezed off the shot and took him tight behind the shoulders, he sprinted 100 yards uphill and just as I was going to squeeze off another shot, he collapsed and was done. We cheered and back clapped at my first animal down on day one. The boys cut a road to get Landcruiser over the mountain to the Oryx... which was amazing to behold as it is rough country. After much fist bumping, laughter and photos, Hendrick conceded that this was indeed the same bull we had seen earlier, and in good humor, got down on his knees, as agreed, and said "I am sorry, Greg!" Lol... we had a good laugh over that. With the bull loaded, we continued driving more backcountry roads, glassing for game, and then headed back to camp for lunch.
We headed for the bush again at 3 pm, and after a few miles we drove up onto a plateau and Hendrick spotted a group of Springbok, he says, "there is a good ram there," but I could not see it, even through my 10X binos, we drove around to get the wind in our favor and then made a 1 km stalk through the black thorn and scrub until we ran out of cover at 265 yards, there the ram stood. I was on the sticks waiting for the ram to turn broadside, and as I saw his body turn I squeezed off the shot, with the recoil, I could not see what happened to the ram, I just saw a group of fleeing springbok, I turned to look at Hendrick and he said "he dropped straight down." When we walked up to the ram, I saw a hole in his neck and was confused, I had the crosshairs solid on his shoulder and the shot felt good. When we flipped him over we saw the exit right through the shoulder, apparently he swung his head to look back and took the shot through the neck and into his shoulder. We took pictures and I threw him over my shoulders and loaded him into the Landcruiser.
We continue on our trek and ran across a nice Steinbok, we hopped off the Cruiser and onto the Sticks and he was in the bag with a 235 grain TSX behind the shoulder. Hendrick and I had made a bet, whether or not, if I shot a Steinbok with my .375 WSM it would "explode." Hendrick said it would, I felt the TSX would zip through so fast that it would not do that much damage (which is why I chose to load the TSX)... since this little antelope ran 30 feet after the shot, we four held a forum and agreed, that if it had "exploded," it could not have run... ergo, I won the bet. Now, as I write this, I am realizing that Hendrick never paid me the $10 we had bet... I guess I will have to go back to collect.
The day ended with many kilometers covered through beautiful country and three very nice animals in the salt.
Sunday, March 2nd;
We start off cruising a new area of the Khomas Highlands, slow rolling again, spotting game from the Landcruiser. Again, the country is beautiful and very huntable with rolling hills and ridges, all-be-it VERY prickly! As we drive I ask Hendrick the names of various trees and shrubs... "spoiler alert," everything ends in "thorn!" Black-thorn, white-thorn, red-thorn, sweet-thorn, camel-thorn... you get the idea! Much blood was drawn over the ten days of hunting, a fitting payment for the game given up by the land.
As we cruised along, we saw plenty of game, oryx, kudu, springbok, warthog, steenbok, duiker, but all told, nothing we wanted to pursue. After a long day and trekking 200+km... we head back to camp. No animals taken, but it was a great day and amazing scenery... lots of joking, ribbing and laughing. The Khomas Highlands are a unique and vast landscape, and Philip has access to hundreds of thousands of acres of free-range hunting land.
Monday, March 3rd;
We start with breakfast at 6:30 am, then head out in the Landcruiser. After some travel we spot a herd of Blue Wildebeest and put on a stalk. Enroute to the Wildebeest an unseen herd of Red Hartebeest graze out of the black thorn and travel uphill toward us... up go the sticks and I settle in on the rifle. The animals are feeding along, filtering up the hill in a long line. The first of the Hartebeest passed through a gap in the trees, and I whisper to Hendrick, to let me know when the bull steps into the gap as I am settled into the reticle and will have just enough time to take the shot. Several animals pass through the gap, when Hendrick whispers "that's the bull!" I settle the crosshairs on his shoulder and squeeze off the shot at 150 yards. The bull goes straight down... when the animal dropped, Hendrick looked slightly disturbed and was glassing the departing herd, saying under his breath, "cow, cow, cow, cow..." it turned out that he was nervous that he had told me to shoot the wrong animal... however, when we arrived at the downed animal we saw that it was the herd bull and we marveled at his mass, a very beautiful specimen. Hendrick was very relieved. After pictures and cutting a road for the Landcruiser to arrive at the Hartebeest, we loaded the bull and headed back to camp for lunch and a nap.
We headed out again in the afternoon, intent on finding a big Warthog, but enroute to the hunting area a Steinbok bolted across the road ahead of us... even in the quick flash we could see a sizeable mass on his head... we hopped out and put the binoculars into service... both Juan and Hendrick say, "he's huge, take him!" I said, "You told me to shoot the one on Monday!" Steinbok was an "iffy" animal for me in the first place and I had no intention of shooting two... and so... I shot him! Lol. He was a dandy, over 5" tall with good mass at the bases, and I was thrilled. I am looking forward to doing a double Euro mount stand with the two Steinbok and some rocks local to the area where they were taken.
The rest of the afternoon held a couple of unproductive stalks on smaller pigs, then as daylight faded we headed back to camp.
Tuesday, March 4th... 6:30 breakfast, Landcruiser at 7 am. We drove for 20 minutes to reach the start of the area we plan to hunt for the day. We turn off onto a water rutted lane and a short 5 minutes later, Hendrick bangs the roof for Juan to stop the vehicle... I look where he is glassing and make out a young Kudu bull standing on a hillside in an opening in the thorn brush at 400 yards. The young bull is staring at us intently... as I continue glassing, I suddenly see another larger bull in the thorn brush behind him... I whisper to Hendrick, "There are two..." he whispers back, "There are eight." Eight? As I scan the slope I start to see more and more bulls in the black thorn, one seems quite large, but then another bull steps through an opening and it is clear he is heavy and wide. We have a brief discussion and decide to go after them. Quickly we realize that they have us pinned on a downslope in full view, so Hendrick radios Juan to drive the Landcruiser slowly down the road... when the kudu are distracted by the vehicle passing 300 yards away, we have the opportunity to duck and get into the brush. For several hundred yards, we continue to stalk directly on their trail in an effort to quietly catch up and see what opportunity presents, suddenly Dino, whispers to Hendrick and points to our right... Hendrick immediately changes course and we head out on a new line, I had no idea what was going on but followed along quietly. Apparently the big bull had split off from the group, crossed a valley and was feeding his way down an adjacent ridge. After a couple hundred yards, Hendrick popped up the sticks and whispered, "there he is." "Where?" I asked. "Behind the tree next to the big boulder," Hendrick replied. Try as I might I could not see the bull... and then suddenly, there he was... it is hard to believe how one, thin tree can hide a big bull kudu... no wonder they are called the "Grey Ghost." I whispered that I had the bull in my sights and waited for him to step clear, when he did, Dino whistled and stopped the bull broadside, Hendrick whispered, "275." I quickly clicked my scope up to that number and settled the crosshairs low on the bulls shoulder, and squeezed... at the shot the bull went straight down, kicked once and lay still. We were elated! This is a tough season for hunting Kudu, with the heavy rains and thick foliage and high grass, they can be very elusive and difficult to find, being very reluctant to leave heavy cover, particularly with the rut still a couple months away. When we hiked to the ridge and stood over the bull, we admired his mass and beauty, I was elated with the entire stalk and experience, which culminated in this exceptional animal. When Juan, returned with the Landcruiser, we took MANY pictures and then loaded the bull and headed back to camp.
After another terrific lunch, we hit the road once again... for the fourth day in a row, a Mountain Zebra was the primary target and we had yet to even see one... we cruised many, many kilometers through the Khomas hills, seeing much game and stalking one Warthog that proved to be too small, in the end. We had perhaps and hour and a half of light left when Hendrick spotted a track in the road, and tapped the roof for Juan to stop. Upon examining the tracks he said "two Zebra." As it had just rained we knew the tracks were fresh. I suggested we hike up to a ridge the animals were headed for, to glass the valley and opposite ridge, but Hendrick shook his head and said, "They will go over to the other side." So after a brief consultation, Juan turned the vehicle around and we headed back the way we came, a kilometer later we turned on a side road and began glassing the mountains as we drove... behind the mountains we could immediately view, there were several other unseen mountains and valleys... the chance of finding two Zebras in all that country, frankly, seemed like a "needle in a haystack" proposition. The road meadered around for a couple kilometers to the backside of the mountain range. As we were side hilling a mountain, Hendrick suddenly said, "Stop!" I said "what's up?" He pointed and said, "they are there!" Sure enough, across the valley on the opposite mountain stood two Zebras. The cleaner of the two was facing us at 265 yards, Hendrick called out the number, I dialed the scope and we had a brief discussion as to whether we should wait for the animal to turn broadside or if I should take the frontal shot. I said, "I will settle in and see how I feel." Once I settled in behind the scope, I felt very solid and said, "I'm going to take the shot." I breathed out and gently squeezed the trigger, the rifle bucked and Zebra leaped into the air and kicked wildly, after a short, wild gallop of, maybe ten yards, it went down kicking in a cloud of dust. We all cheered and were very relieved that we had found the animal at the top of my list, for this trip. The Zebra Rug will become the centerpiece of my new retirement "Man Cave," immediately opposite, my Golden Bear rug... I plan to create a "happy place" with North American mounts on one side of the room and African mounts on the other side, and a big screen TV opposite a couple big leather recliners. Next ensued the zebra recovery effort. I was again astounded how these guys can get a Landcruiser to the top of a mountain to recover an animal where no roads exists... I would have bet against it, but Juan does an excellent job of handling the vehicle through rocks and trees and washouts, while Hendrick and Dino cut brush and roll stones ahead... I even got my old bones out with my pack saw and helped with the clearing. When we arrived at the Zebra we saw that it was a large mare in excellent condition. I was thrilled to have taken a Kudu bull and Mountain Zebra on the same day. Many terrific pictures later, the Zebra was loaded and we were heading back down the mountain with Dino and Hendrick leading the way on foot.
Back at camp and after a beer or two... and a great dinner, we hit the sack, excited for a foray into the higher Khomas mountains the next day.
Wednesday, March 5th;
After an early rise, and bumpy drive, we cruised the Khomas Highland mountains and valleys along a river, at a slow roll and saw much game, but nothing that excited us to go after it. We did one stalk on a big warthog, that we spotted leaving a waterhole, but as we started the stalk a herd of Bhrama cattle took flight and carried the pig away with them. Then suddenly, late in the day, as we topped a rise, looking into the setting sun, Hendrick said, "Stop! Big pig in the road!" With the sun in my eyes, I couldn't see the front bumper let alone a warthog 100 yarda ahead. The warthog ran up over the hill and Juan put the pedal to the floor to quickly clear the next rise, just as Hendrick said "shoot, shoot!" I got the scope on the big pigs shoulder and squeezed... CRAP! Safety on! I flipped off the safety and the pig bolted... I got the crosshairs back on him as he ran straight away and squeezed of a shot as it turned into the brush... "You missed," stated Hendrick... yup, I did. We had covered many, many kilometers and had a terrific day, despite my bad miss. Due to that miss I was forced to perform the "Warthog Skull Snuff" ritual that night after dinner... really clears the sinuses!
Thursday, March 6th... This morning we drove an hour and a half to the East into the higher Khomas mountains, in search of Blue Wildebeest and Warthog. The area is stunning and we had a wonderful day of glassing and cruising. We saw Wildebeest, Hartebeest, Warthog, Kudu and Springbok, but nothing in a position to go after. One huge Blue Wildebeest bull on a faraway mountain tempted us, but the distance and the troop of baboons that surrounded him, disuaded us from a stalk. Just as we were setting up for a bush lunch, a massive storm blew in and we packed hastily inro.the Landcruiser and raced down the rapidly washing out roads to get to an old German Fort for protection, as our vehicle only had a roll cage and mesh roof. In short order, we were all soaked to the skin, but finally rolled into the fort, all the while laughing at the circumstances. For a while I thought a crash was more than likely as the windshield wipers didn't work and Juan was navigating the treacherous roads at high speed with his head out the window and the downpour stinging into his eyes! We stood out of the wind, dripping and sipping coffee for an hour while the storm passed, and then headed back to Khomas Lodge... in an uncomfortably moist condition.
Friday, March 7th... This day we headed back to the further mountain range, to hunt a different area known for big warthog. Arriving at the property a landowner representative observer, Steven, hopped on with us... he was pleasant fellow and had a good sense of humor. A couple valleys over, we saw a group of pigs run up out of a creek bottom, and gallop across a grass plain. The finally pig was large and Hendrick said he was a good one. By the time I got set up, the Warthog was 260 yards away and Hendrick confirmed that he was good and recommended that I shoot. I squeezed off the shot and the pig dropped. We had a good time taking pictures and videos with the dandy animal.
After which, we continued to cruise the mountains looking for a meat Oryx for the landowner, who had a processing center for making biltong, he had agreed for us to take a "trophy bull" for this purpose. However, try as we might, we did not get a good opportunity at an Oryx bull until we came around a corner and a bull stood at 250 yards on a hillside... we had put a tripod on the back of the landcruiser, but it was badly askew from bumping around through wash-outs in the road... my set up was very unstable, but I centered the crosshairs... and... missed. Hendricks says, "by alot." I like to think, by a little, but enough to not draw blood or clip hair. To be honest, I was quite displeased with myself over that miss, or rather over taking the shot when I did not feel solid. We returned to Khomas lodge, defeated, but vowed to return the next day to bless the landowner with some Oryx meat.
Saturday, March 8th... We got an early start as we were heading back to the far mountains again, to hunt for the second Oryx bull and possibly a blue wildebeest or gargantuan warthog. The mountains are spectacular, as daylight dawns, with pinks and oranges and violets staining the sky and hills. We awaited good light before pointing the Landcruiser down the rutted mountain trails. As we drove along we spotted much game, warthog abounded, but none were significantly larger than the one already taken, the Blue Wildebeest were enjoying other parts of Namibia on this day, but we did see a small herd on Hartmann's Zebra high up on the side of a tall peak. We stopped at several high vantage points to glass the hills and valleys for game. Finally at one lookout, we spotted a "big pig" on an adjacent ridge, we all began glassing the old warthog to gauge it's size... it was a good one. When the pig disappeared behind a thicket, I heard Hendrick hiss "oryx bull!" I looked to see where he was looking, and there, below us, stood a grand old bull, down in the thorns next to a standing dead Camel-thorn tree. Hendrick threw up the sticks and I settled in, it was an old bull, short and thick, just what I was looking for. Hendrick said "206," a good number and I held dead on his shoulder, without adjustment. At the shot the bull went straight down without a flinch. It took us awhile of searching to find and then clear the best route down the steep hill to the bull. After a couple quick pictures, we loaded the bull and headed back to the landowners ranch.
While the guys cleaned and processed the bull, the owner showed Juan and I around his operation and home. It was a beautiful setting and he had more than 70 years of history on the land, with his grandfather building the original house in the early 1950's, he was a fine old gentleman and I enjoyed our visit immensely. With everything settled, and the old bull's skull loaded, we headed back to Philip's Khomas ranch. After a nice lunch we headed out a little earlier than usual, to a new area where there were more Blue Wildebeest. I had envisioned is hunting them in an open plains area, however these animals held to thick thorn cover for the most part and try as we might, on this afternoon, they proved to be too smart for us. We tried several stalks but they kept spotting us, or winding us and taking off. It was very frustrating to get in close only to be busted, time and again, hearing their hoofbeats disappearing into the distance. We finally admitted defeat as the sun sunk low in the sky, and called it a wrap for the day.
Sunday, March 9th;
On this morning, we headed back to the same area for blue Wildebeest, however this time we went in on foot, to where we had seen them the night before. We began to still hunt and track the herd. As it turned out, this would be a long, drawn out hunt, with many kilometers covered, through the thorny bushveld. After following tracks from the previous evening, we found where the Wildebeest had spent the night and picked up the fresh tracks from that morning, Hendrick followed the herd, with me tagging along behind, until we found where they had begun feeding. The herd spread out and began meandering as they browsed, so we slowed our pace and kept our eyes open on all sides. We then circled around and finally got in close, but unfortunately they again winded us and took off running. Hearing their hoofbeats pounding into the ground, I had to wonder if we were destined for a repeat of our previously unsuccessful attempts. However, Hendrick remained positive and we began tracking the herd, until a couple kilometers later we found where they began to split up. As Hendrick sorted through the confusing puzzle of tracks, he found where one bull went off on it's own, so we started off on this bull's tracks. For a kilometer he dragged us through thorn thickets, over hill and dale. When we finally caught up, he started bellowing at us from the thorn bush... he could see us but could not smell us as the wind was in our favor, so he didn't spook and run off. We then spent half an hour, doing a tip-toe dance, around with the bull, as he bellowed from inside the thorn thickets, trying to see him before he winded us. Finally, we found an opening in the brush at 50 yards, and Hendrick set-up the sticks and said "he is facing us, aim low"... I had to let my eyes adjust to the shadows and told Hendrick that I could only see the bulls nose and asked if he wanted me to shoot, he said "yes, low below the nose," so I squeezed off the shot and the bull took off running, crashing through the thorn brush. As it turned out, that was only the start of a drawn out saga. We tracked the bull for a kilometer, with a continous blood trail, that looked like "muscle blood," to me, rather than lung blood, and the continous blood suggested a shot to a leg or shoulder. We finally caught up to the bull in a thorn thicket, but he saw us first and took off running through the thicket, I took a quick shot but it was so thick we thought I had missed, but as it turned out I did hit him. We then followed up again, for several hundred meters, and caught up again, he was across a ravine standing in the shadow of the trees and stood broadside, I put the rifle up on the sticks and made a good shot through the lungs and the bull went down, but as we started toward him, he jumped up and ran again, it was so thick there was no opportunity for another shot. We were back on the trail and this time it was clear that the bull was fatally hit, from the blood sign, we could see where he sneezed out big splashes of blood. I kept thinking we would find him dead, at any moment, but the bull kept going and going, after several hundred yards we spotted him and I was astounded the he was on his feet! I had a clear shot and was able to put in a shot that sent him crashing to the ground for good. Such a strong, majestic, amazing animal... and TOUGH! It was a glorious morning, and an epic hunt for a fine old bull. I was drenched in sweat, scratches and blood, and dehydrated in the 30*C heat, but we all celebrated that the most difficult animal on my list, was down.
So now, with the main targets of my hunt taken and in the salt, we decided to slow down, relax and do some wing shooting for Franklin grouse and guinea fowl and possibly tag a big Baboon. Our afternoon forray, included a missed shot at a big running Baboon at 150 yards, several guinea fowl and a grouse taken, before we got rained out by yet another big thunder storm.
Monday, March 10th.
I was satisfied with our hunting for big game and we decided to make a trip to Swakopmund, for a couple days of shopping and shark fishing. The trip from the Khomas Highlands to the coast is an interesting one, as you can observe the rapid transition of biomes, from the green Highland hills to the semi-arid foothills and finally to the bleakness of the Namib desert, that runs to the coast. Many beautiful vistas are viewed along this route.
After a couple hours of gift shopping in Swakopmund, and a lunch, we headed for Hentie's Bay, where we planned to fish for sharks the following day. Once in Hentie's Bay, we met up with our fishing guide, a jolly friend of Juan's, named Galard, and his puppy "Peanut." Both, Galard and Peanut are epic and skilled fishermen (or "fisherpup's" as the case may be). Without going into too much detail an epic evening ensued, where two young bucks did their best to put this old man, "six feet under." The night included darts, pool, beer, a stream of Jagermeister, a large, talented, local Boor, hammering on his electric guitar and wailing with a raspy voice and his own mash-ups of favorite tunes... and who in the midst of the melee planted a big sloppy kiss on my cheek as a sign of friendship... and of course, there continued much singing and back slapping and cheering over nothing in particular. It was a terrific time of bonding with the boys, however morning came too quickly.
When daylight dawned we met for breakfast and then headed out with the Landcruiser towing a fishing trailer. Our first job was to land a Spotted Gully shark for chum and bait. Galard read the water for the structure he was looking for and once located, he expertly tied our baits to target the Gully's. After changing locations once a rod finally dipped down and the fight was on. It turned out to be a 20 pound male, and it was good to feel the string get pulled.
With the Gully in the trailer, we relocated a considerable distance away to set up for a "Bronzie" shark, which can be in excess of 400 pounds. As luck would have it, my trophy for the day would be a tremendous BBQ of various meats and two VERY badly sunburnt legs. TAKE NOTE; remember to lather on the sunscreen! A tamer evening occurred that night, followed by an early bed, where much tossing and turning ensued due to raw, throbbing legs. The following morning we left Hentie's Bay early after replacing a flat tire in the dark, back across the desert and foothills. Arriving at Khomas, I repacked my bags, completed the required paperwork with Philip, loaded the trophies for the Nakara Tannery and Tau Taxidermy, said my good-byes to new, old friends, and Juan and I set off for Windhoek, after the trophy stops and a red alert stop for "After Sun" gel for my badly swelling legs, we had a grand sushi lunch and made for the airport for my 8 pm flight.
Of course, once again, in classic African fashion, there were issues. Nobody knew how to complete the firearm paperwork or even knew what was required, and we stood around for an hour while they trierd to figure it out... in the end, Juan explained the process to them and thankfully they just followed his advice. However, arriving back at the airline agent they directed me to customer service where they charged me $380 CDN to export my own damn rifle back home... $80 to get it there, $380 to get it home, it felt a good bit like extortion. While I awaited my connecting flight, in Frankfurt, my name was called to the airline service counter, where I was informed that the rules had changed in October of 2024, for importing Firearms (even your own) and my bags and rifle would no longer be transferred to the connecting flight to my final destination, but had to be retrieved in Toronto and processed through customs, outside of the security area and rechecked/retagged, for the connecting flight and then I would again have to be processed through security. Another unnecessary PITA, which of course took a couple hours to complete. The locks had been cut off of my rifle vase by agents in Frankfurt and the contents were in disarray... it appeared that they had taken note of a small can of Rem Oil and removed it from the case. The Canada customs agent was efficient and fair and perked up with interest in my hunt, asking if I had any pictures of the animals taken. I had a six hour wait for the connecting flight during which, I applied and reapplied "After Sun" gel to my swollen ans blistered legs.
I was exhausted but satisfied when I finally made it home. All in all, a terrific experience was had and without a doubt, I will be back to enjoy may more African adventures in the future. If you are looking for a grand African experience and free range hunting for plains game, consider Khomas Highland Safaris, you will not be disappointed.
Philip Hennings of Khomas Highkand Safaris is a top-notch gentleman. He and his staff will do their utmost to make your hunting experience exceptional. Philip is very good to communicate and will honor all agreements, you can be assured that you are in good hands. The accommodations are comfortable and the food is excellent, with beer on tap.
I chose to hunt with Khomas Highlands after doing a good bit of research and investigating references and reports. After considering all factors, I chose Philip's operation, my deposit went in and the wait was on. Khomas Highland Safaris, is situated West of Windhoek, Namibia.
I arrived in Windhoek, February 28, 2025, after long flights and layovers, from Ontario, Canada. I chose to bring my own rifle, one that I had made specifically for this hunt, a Ruger M77 Mark II Stainless, with 24" Bob Jury barrel chambered in .375 WSM. I loaded the 235 TSX FB bullets as I felt these would do less damage on the smaller antelope species and hold together well for the larger species. Travelling with your own rifle and ammunition comes with a lot of hassles regarding travel and import paperwork, on both entry and exit. I was willing to accept these irritations in order to hunt with my own gear, being a "Gun Nut," as opposed to renting one of the many rifles available at Khomas. Upon arrival, I was picked up at Hosea Kutako Airport in Windhoek, by Juan van Zyl, one of Philip's PH's. Juan is a sturdy native Namibian, that loves the bushland and game, and in that we found a connection.
Saturday, March 1st;
After a 6 am breakfast, I met PH - Hendrick and Tracker - Dino. We loaded rifle and gear into a Landcruiser and headed out to drive the Khomas Highlands in search of game, with Juan at the wheel... Juan, Hendrick and Dino would be my team for the duration of my stay and I was in good hands. All three have extremely sharp eyes for game and can track a cricket over dry ground.
Along the way we stopped and hiked to vantage points to glass for game. I told the guys I was looking for a short and thick Oryx bull, not a tall and narrow cow. A short while later, while hiking our way up to "Pride Rock" to glass, we bumped into an Oryx bull, but I was too slow to get on him, and he disappeared over a ridge... we trotted up the ridge but the bull had disappeared. After ascending to the top of Pride Rock, we glassed for half an hour and I spotted what I believed to be the same bull far to the west... with nothing showing close by, we then drove many kilometer's of rough back roads in a big loop. Having circled to the west, I kept telling Hendrick that we will shoot the same bull that had run off when we got over a far ridge near a waterhole, Hendrick said that the bull is "far gone"... I insisted we would see him again, Hendrick said "no way." I told Hendrick if we ran into that bull again he needed to apologize to me (all in gest, of course). A couple kilometers later we crossed the water hole and looking back Dino spotted an oryx bull. I grabbed my rifle and Hendrick and Dino led the way on a stalk over hill and through valley. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the Oryx angling back toward us, I whispered for Hendrick to set up the sticks and I was ready to shoot at an opening 50 yards ahead of us on the path of the approaching bull. The Oryx ran through the opening too quickly to get the shot, so we tried to move uphill to get a shot through the brush but the bull spotted us, and ran back across the valley and up the opposite hillside. We quickly moved into a position to see the opposite hillside and Dino and Hendrick "whooped" to stop the running bull at 250 yards, while I settled on the sticks, the Oryx was broadside as it halted to look over at us. I squeezed off the shot and took him tight behind the shoulders, he sprinted 100 yards uphill and just as I was going to squeeze off another shot, he collapsed and was done. We cheered and back clapped at my first animal down on day one. The boys cut a road to get Landcruiser over the mountain to the Oryx... which was amazing to behold as it is rough country. After much fist bumping, laughter and photos, Hendrick conceded that this was indeed the same bull we had seen earlier, and in good humor, got down on his knees, as agreed, and said "I am sorry, Greg!" Lol... we had a good laugh over that. With the bull loaded, we continued driving more backcountry roads, glassing for game, and then headed back to camp for lunch.
We headed for the bush again at 3 pm, and after a few miles we drove up onto a plateau and Hendrick spotted a group of Springbok, he says, "there is a good ram there," but I could not see it, even through my 10X binos, we drove around to get the wind in our favor and then made a 1 km stalk through the black thorn and scrub until we ran out of cover at 265 yards, there the ram stood. I was on the sticks waiting for the ram to turn broadside, and as I saw his body turn I squeezed off the shot, with the recoil, I could not see what happened to the ram, I just saw a group of fleeing springbok, I turned to look at Hendrick and he said "he dropped straight down." When we walked up to the ram, I saw a hole in his neck and was confused, I had the crosshairs solid on his shoulder and the shot felt good. When we flipped him over we saw the exit right through the shoulder, apparently he swung his head to look back and took the shot through the neck and into his shoulder. We took pictures and I threw him over my shoulders and loaded him into the Landcruiser.
We continue on our trek and ran across a nice Steinbok, we hopped off the Cruiser and onto the Sticks and he was in the bag with a 235 grain TSX behind the shoulder. Hendrick and I had made a bet, whether or not, if I shot a Steinbok with my .375 WSM it would "explode." Hendrick said it would, I felt the TSX would zip through so fast that it would not do that much damage (which is why I chose to load the TSX)... since this little antelope ran 30 feet after the shot, we four held a forum and agreed, that if it had "exploded," it could not have run... ergo, I won the bet. Now, as I write this, I am realizing that Hendrick never paid me the $10 we had bet... I guess I will have to go back to collect.
The day ended with many kilometers covered through beautiful country and three very nice animals in the salt.
Sunday, March 2nd;
We start off cruising a new area of the Khomas Highlands, slow rolling again, spotting game from the Landcruiser. Again, the country is beautiful and very huntable with rolling hills and ridges, all-be-it VERY prickly! As we drive I ask Hendrick the names of various trees and shrubs... "spoiler alert," everything ends in "thorn!" Black-thorn, white-thorn, red-thorn, sweet-thorn, camel-thorn... you get the idea! Much blood was drawn over the ten days of hunting, a fitting payment for the game given up by the land.
As we cruised along, we saw plenty of game, oryx, kudu, springbok, warthog, steenbok, duiker, but all told, nothing we wanted to pursue. After a long day and trekking 200+km... we head back to camp. No animals taken, but it was a great day and amazing scenery... lots of joking, ribbing and laughing. The Khomas Highlands are a unique and vast landscape, and Philip has access to hundreds of thousands of acres of free-range hunting land.
Monday, March 3rd;
We start with breakfast at 6:30 am, then head out in the Landcruiser. After some travel we spot a herd of Blue Wildebeest and put on a stalk. Enroute to the Wildebeest an unseen herd of Red Hartebeest graze out of the black thorn and travel uphill toward us... up go the sticks and I settle in on the rifle. The animals are feeding along, filtering up the hill in a long line. The first of the Hartebeest passed through a gap in the trees, and I whisper to Hendrick, to let me know when the bull steps into the gap as I am settled into the reticle and will have just enough time to take the shot. Several animals pass through the gap, when Hendrick whispers "that's the bull!" I settle the crosshairs on his shoulder and squeeze off the shot at 150 yards. The bull goes straight down... when the animal dropped, Hendrick looked slightly disturbed and was glassing the departing herd, saying under his breath, "cow, cow, cow, cow..." it turned out that he was nervous that he had told me to shoot the wrong animal... however, when we arrived at the downed animal we saw that it was the herd bull and we marveled at his mass, a very beautiful specimen. Hendrick was very relieved. After pictures and cutting a road for the Landcruiser to arrive at the Hartebeest, we loaded the bull and headed back to camp for lunch and a nap.
We headed out again in the afternoon, intent on finding a big Warthog, but enroute to the hunting area a Steinbok bolted across the road ahead of us... even in the quick flash we could see a sizeable mass on his head... we hopped out and put the binoculars into service... both Juan and Hendrick say, "he's huge, take him!" I said, "You told me to shoot the one on Monday!" Steinbok was an "iffy" animal for me in the first place and I had no intention of shooting two... and so... I shot him! Lol. He was a dandy, over 5" tall with good mass at the bases, and I was thrilled. I am looking forward to doing a double Euro mount stand with the two Steinbok and some rocks local to the area where they were taken.
The rest of the afternoon held a couple of unproductive stalks on smaller pigs, then as daylight faded we headed back to camp.
Tuesday, March 4th... 6:30 breakfast, Landcruiser at 7 am. We drove for 20 minutes to reach the start of the area we plan to hunt for the day. We turn off onto a water rutted lane and a short 5 minutes later, Hendrick bangs the roof for Juan to stop the vehicle... I look where he is glassing and make out a young Kudu bull standing on a hillside in an opening in the thorn brush at 400 yards. The young bull is staring at us intently... as I continue glassing, I suddenly see another larger bull in the thorn brush behind him... I whisper to Hendrick, "There are two..." he whispers back, "There are eight." Eight? As I scan the slope I start to see more and more bulls in the black thorn, one seems quite large, but then another bull steps through an opening and it is clear he is heavy and wide. We have a brief discussion and decide to go after them. Quickly we realize that they have us pinned on a downslope in full view, so Hendrick radios Juan to drive the Landcruiser slowly down the road... when the kudu are distracted by the vehicle passing 300 yards away, we have the opportunity to duck and get into the brush. For several hundred yards, we continue to stalk directly on their trail in an effort to quietly catch up and see what opportunity presents, suddenly Dino, whispers to Hendrick and points to our right... Hendrick immediately changes course and we head out on a new line, I had no idea what was going on but followed along quietly. Apparently the big bull had split off from the group, crossed a valley and was feeding his way down an adjacent ridge. After a couple hundred yards, Hendrick popped up the sticks and whispered, "there he is." "Where?" I asked. "Behind the tree next to the big boulder," Hendrick replied. Try as I might I could not see the bull... and then suddenly, there he was... it is hard to believe how one, thin tree can hide a big bull kudu... no wonder they are called the "Grey Ghost." I whispered that I had the bull in my sights and waited for him to step clear, when he did, Dino whistled and stopped the bull broadside, Hendrick whispered, "275." I quickly clicked my scope up to that number and settled the crosshairs low on the bulls shoulder, and squeezed... at the shot the bull went straight down, kicked once and lay still. We were elated! This is a tough season for hunting Kudu, with the heavy rains and thick foliage and high grass, they can be very elusive and difficult to find, being very reluctant to leave heavy cover, particularly with the rut still a couple months away. When we hiked to the ridge and stood over the bull, we admired his mass and beauty, I was elated with the entire stalk and experience, which culminated in this exceptional animal. When Juan, returned with the Landcruiser, we took MANY pictures and then loaded the bull and headed back to camp.
After another terrific lunch, we hit the road once again... for the fourth day in a row, a Mountain Zebra was the primary target and we had yet to even see one... we cruised many, many kilometers through the Khomas hills, seeing much game and stalking one Warthog that proved to be too small, in the end. We had perhaps and hour and a half of light left when Hendrick spotted a track in the road, and tapped the roof for Juan to stop. Upon examining the tracks he said "two Zebra." As it had just rained we knew the tracks were fresh. I suggested we hike up to a ridge the animals were headed for, to glass the valley and opposite ridge, but Hendrick shook his head and said, "They will go over to the other side." So after a brief consultation, Juan turned the vehicle around and we headed back the way we came, a kilometer later we turned on a side road and began glassing the mountains as we drove... behind the mountains we could immediately view, there were several other unseen mountains and valleys... the chance of finding two Zebras in all that country, frankly, seemed like a "needle in a haystack" proposition. The road meadered around for a couple kilometers to the backside of the mountain range. As we were side hilling a mountain, Hendrick suddenly said, "Stop!" I said "what's up?" He pointed and said, "they are there!" Sure enough, across the valley on the opposite mountain stood two Zebras. The cleaner of the two was facing us at 265 yards, Hendrick called out the number, I dialed the scope and we had a brief discussion as to whether we should wait for the animal to turn broadside or if I should take the frontal shot. I said, "I will settle in and see how I feel." Once I settled in behind the scope, I felt very solid and said, "I'm going to take the shot." I breathed out and gently squeezed the trigger, the rifle bucked and Zebra leaped into the air and kicked wildly, after a short, wild gallop of, maybe ten yards, it went down kicking in a cloud of dust. We all cheered and were very relieved that we had found the animal at the top of my list, for this trip. The Zebra Rug will become the centerpiece of my new retirement "Man Cave," immediately opposite, my Golden Bear rug... I plan to create a "happy place" with North American mounts on one side of the room and African mounts on the other side, and a big screen TV opposite a couple big leather recliners. Next ensued the zebra recovery effort. I was again astounded how these guys can get a Landcruiser to the top of a mountain to recover an animal where no roads exists... I would have bet against it, but Juan does an excellent job of handling the vehicle through rocks and trees and washouts, while Hendrick and Dino cut brush and roll stones ahead... I even got my old bones out with my pack saw and helped with the clearing. When we arrived at the Zebra we saw that it was a large mare in excellent condition. I was thrilled to have taken a Kudu bull and Mountain Zebra on the same day. Many terrific pictures later, the Zebra was loaded and we were heading back down the mountain with Dino and Hendrick leading the way on foot.
Back at camp and after a beer or two... and a great dinner, we hit the sack, excited for a foray into the higher Khomas mountains the next day.
Wednesday, March 5th;
After an early rise, and bumpy drive, we cruised the Khomas Highland mountains and valleys along a river, at a slow roll and saw much game, but nothing that excited us to go after it. We did one stalk on a big warthog, that we spotted leaving a waterhole, but as we started the stalk a herd of Bhrama cattle took flight and carried the pig away with them. Then suddenly, late in the day, as we topped a rise, looking into the setting sun, Hendrick said, "Stop! Big pig in the road!" With the sun in my eyes, I couldn't see the front bumper let alone a warthog 100 yarda ahead. The warthog ran up over the hill and Juan put the pedal to the floor to quickly clear the next rise, just as Hendrick said "shoot, shoot!" I got the scope on the big pigs shoulder and squeezed... CRAP! Safety on! I flipped off the safety and the pig bolted... I got the crosshairs back on him as he ran straight away and squeezed of a shot as it turned into the brush... "You missed," stated Hendrick... yup, I did. We had covered many, many kilometers and had a terrific day, despite my bad miss. Due to that miss I was forced to perform the "Warthog Skull Snuff" ritual that night after dinner... really clears the sinuses!
Thursday, March 6th... This morning we drove an hour and a half to the East into the higher Khomas mountains, in search of Blue Wildebeest and Warthog. The area is stunning and we had a wonderful day of glassing and cruising. We saw Wildebeest, Hartebeest, Warthog, Kudu and Springbok, but nothing in a position to go after. One huge Blue Wildebeest bull on a faraway mountain tempted us, but the distance and the troop of baboons that surrounded him, disuaded us from a stalk. Just as we were setting up for a bush lunch, a massive storm blew in and we packed hastily inro.the Landcruiser and raced down the rapidly washing out roads to get to an old German Fort for protection, as our vehicle only had a roll cage and mesh roof. In short order, we were all soaked to the skin, but finally rolled into the fort, all the while laughing at the circumstances. For a while I thought a crash was more than likely as the windshield wipers didn't work and Juan was navigating the treacherous roads at high speed with his head out the window and the downpour stinging into his eyes! We stood out of the wind, dripping and sipping coffee for an hour while the storm passed, and then headed back to Khomas Lodge... in an uncomfortably moist condition.
Friday, March 7th... This day we headed back to the further mountain range, to hunt a different area known for big warthog. Arriving at the property a landowner representative observer, Steven, hopped on with us... he was pleasant fellow and had a good sense of humor. A couple valleys over, we saw a group of pigs run up out of a creek bottom, and gallop across a grass plain. The finally pig was large and Hendrick said he was a good one. By the time I got set up, the Warthog was 260 yards away and Hendrick confirmed that he was good and recommended that I shoot. I squeezed off the shot and the pig dropped. We had a good time taking pictures and videos with the dandy animal.
After which, we continued to cruise the mountains looking for a meat Oryx for the landowner, who had a processing center for making biltong, he had agreed for us to take a "trophy bull" for this purpose. However, try as we might, we did not get a good opportunity at an Oryx bull until we came around a corner and a bull stood at 250 yards on a hillside... we had put a tripod on the back of the landcruiser, but it was badly askew from bumping around through wash-outs in the road... my set up was very unstable, but I centered the crosshairs... and... missed. Hendricks says, "by alot." I like to think, by a little, but enough to not draw blood or clip hair. To be honest, I was quite displeased with myself over that miss, or rather over taking the shot when I did not feel solid. We returned to Khomas lodge, defeated, but vowed to return the next day to bless the landowner with some Oryx meat.
Saturday, March 8th... We got an early start as we were heading back to the far mountains again, to hunt for the second Oryx bull and possibly a blue wildebeest or gargantuan warthog. The mountains are spectacular, as daylight dawns, with pinks and oranges and violets staining the sky and hills. We awaited good light before pointing the Landcruiser down the rutted mountain trails. As we drove along we spotted much game, warthog abounded, but none were significantly larger than the one already taken, the Blue Wildebeest were enjoying other parts of Namibia on this day, but we did see a small herd on Hartmann's Zebra high up on the side of a tall peak. We stopped at several high vantage points to glass the hills and valleys for game. Finally at one lookout, we spotted a "big pig" on an adjacent ridge, we all began glassing the old warthog to gauge it's size... it was a good one. When the pig disappeared behind a thicket, I heard Hendrick hiss "oryx bull!" I looked to see where he was looking, and there, below us, stood a grand old bull, down in the thorns next to a standing dead Camel-thorn tree. Hendrick threw up the sticks and I settled in, it was an old bull, short and thick, just what I was looking for. Hendrick said "206," a good number and I held dead on his shoulder, without adjustment. At the shot the bull went straight down without a flinch. It took us awhile of searching to find and then clear the best route down the steep hill to the bull. After a couple quick pictures, we loaded the bull and headed back to the landowners ranch.
While the guys cleaned and processed the bull, the owner showed Juan and I around his operation and home. It was a beautiful setting and he had more than 70 years of history on the land, with his grandfather building the original house in the early 1950's, he was a fine old gentleman and I enjoyed our visit immensely. With everything settled, and the old bull's skull loaded, we headed back to Philip's Khomas ranch. After a nice lunch we headed out a little earlier than usual, to a new area where there were more Blue Wildebeest. I had envisioned is hunting them in an open plains area, however these animals held to thick thorn cover for the most part and try as we might, on this afternoon, they proved to be too smart for us. We tried several stalks but they kept spotting us, or winding us and taking off. It was very frustrating to get in close only to be busted, time and again, hearing their hoofbeats disappearing into the distance. We finally admitted defeat as the sun sunk low in the sky, and called it a wrap for the day.
Sunday, March 9th;
On this morning, we headed back to the same area for blue Wildebeest, however this time we went in on foot, to where we had seen them the night before. We began to still hunt and track the herd. As it turned out, this would be a long, drawn out hunt, with many kilometers covered, through the thorny bushveld. After following tracks from the previous evening, we found where the Wildebeest had spent the night and picked up the fresh tracks from that morning, Hendrick followed the herd, with me tagging along behind, until we found where they had begun feeding. The herd spread out and began meandering as they browsed, so we slowed our pace and kept our eyes open on all sides. We then circled around and finally got in close, but unfortunately they again winded us and took off running. Hearing their hoofbeats pounding into the ground, I had to wonder if we were destined for a repeat of our previously unsuccessful attempts. However, Hendrick remained positive and we began tracking the herd, until a couple kilometers later we found where they began to split up. As Hendrick sorted through the confusing puzzle of tracks, he found where one bull went off on it's own, so we started off on this bull's tracks. For a kilometer he dragged us through thorn thickets, over hill and dale. When we finally caught up, he started bellowing at us from the thorn bush... he could see us but could not smell us as the wind was in our favor, so he didn't spook and run off. We then spent half an hour, doing a tip-toe dance, around with the bull, as he bellowed from inside the thorn thickets, trying to see him before he winded us. Finally, we found an opening in the brush at 50 yards, and Hendrick set-up the sticks and said "he is facing us, aim low"... I had to let my eyes adjust to the shadows and told Hendrick that I could only see the bulls nose and asked if he wanted me to shoot, he said "yes, low below the nose," so I squeezed off the shot and the bull took off running, crashing through the thorn brush. As it turned out, that was only the start of a drawn out saga. We tracked the bull for a kilometer, with a continous blood trail, that looked like "muscle blood," to me, rather than lung blood, and the continous blood suggested a shot to a leg or shoulder. We finally caught up to the bull in a thorn thicket, but he saw us first and took off running through the thicket, I took a quick shot but it was so thick we thought I had missed, but as it turned out I did hit him. We then followed up again, for several hundred meters, and caught up again, he was across a ravine standing in the shadow of the trees and stood broadside, I put the rifle up on the sticks and made a good shot through the lungs and the bull went down, but as we started toward him, he jumped up and ran again, it was so thick there was no opportunity for another shot. We were back on the trail and this time it was clear that the bull was fatally hit, from the blood sign, we could see where he sneezed out big splashes of blood. I kept thinking we would find him dead, at any moment, but the bull kept going and going, after several hundred yards we spotted him and I was astounded the he was on his feet! I had a clear shot and was able to put in a shot that sent him crashing to the ground for good. Such a strong, majestic, amazing animal... and TOUGH! It was a glorious morning, and an epic hunt for a fine old bull. I was drenched in sweat, scratches and blood, and dehydrated in the 30*C heat, but we all celebrated that the most difficult animal on my list, was down.
So now, with the main targets of my hunt taken and in the salt, we decided to slow down, relax and do some wing shooting for Franklin grouse and guinea fowl and possibly tag a big Baboon. Our afternoon forray, included a missed shot at a big running Baboon at 150 yards, several guinea fowl and a grouse taken, before we got rained out by yet another big thunder storm.
Monday, March 10th.
I was satisfied with our hunting for big game and we decided to make a trip to Swakopmund, for a couple days of shopping and shark fishing. The trip from the Khomas Highlands to the coast is an interesting one, as you can observe the rapid transition of biomes, from the green Highland hills to the semi-arid foothills and finally to the bleakness of the Namib desert, that runs to the coast. Many beautiful vistas are viewed along this route.
After a couple hours of gift shopping in Swakopmund, and a lunch, we headed for Hentie's Bay, where we planned to fish for sharks the following day. Once in Hentie's Bay, we met up with our fishing guide, a jolly friend of Juan's, named Galard, and his puppy "Peanut." Both, Galard and Peanut are epic and skilled fishermen (or "fisherpup's" as the case may be). Without going into too much detail an epic evening ensued, where two young bucks did their best to put this old man, "six feet under." The night included darts, pool, beer, a stream of Jagermeister, a large, talented, local Boor, hammering on his electric guitar and wailing with a raspy voice and his own mash-ups of favorite tunes... and who in the midst of the melee planted a big sloppy kiss on my cheek as a sign of friendship... and of course, there continued much singing and back slapping and cheering over nothing in particular. It was a terrific time of bonding with the boys, however morning came too quickly.
When daylight dawned we met for breakfast and then headed out with the Landcruiser towing a fishing trailer. Our first job was to land a Spotted Gully shark for chum and bait. Galard read the water for the structure he was looking for and once located, he expertly tied our baits to target the Gully's. After changing locations once a rod finally dipped down and the fight was on. It turned out to be a 20 pound male, and it was good to feel the string get pulled.
With the Gully in the trailer, we relocated a considerable distance away to set up for a "Bronzie" shark, which can be in excess of 400 pounds. As luck would have it, my trophy for the day would be a tremendous BBQ of various meats and two VERY badly sunburnt legs. TAKE NOTE; remember to lather on the sunscreen! A tamer evening occurred that night, followed by an early bed, where much tossing and turning ensued due to raw, throbbing legs. The following morning we left Hentie's Bay early after replacing a flat tire in the dark, back across the desert and foothills. Arriving at Khomas, I repacked my bags, completed the required paperwork with Philip, loaded the trophies for the Nakara Tannery and Tau Taxidermy, said my good-byes to new, old friends, and Juan and I set off for Windhoek, after the trophy stops and a red alert stop for "After Sun" gel for my badly swelling legs, we had a grand sushi lunch and made for the airport for my 8 pm flight.
Of course, once again, in classic African fashion, there were issues. Nobody knew how to complete the firearm paperwork or even knew what was required, and we stood around for an hour while they trierd to figure it out... in the end, Juan explained the process to them and thankfully they just followed his advice. However, arriving back at the airline agent they directed me to customer service where they charged me $380 CDN to export my own damn rifle back home... $80 to get it there, $380 to get it home, it felt a good bit like extortion. While I awaited my connecting flight, in Frankfurt, my name was called to the airline service counter, where I was informed that the rules had changed in October of 2024, for importing Firearms (even your own) and my bags and rifle would no longer be transferred to the connecting flight to my final destination, but had to be retrieved in Toronto and processed through customs, outside of the security area and rechecked/retagged, for the connecting flight and then I would again have to be processed through security. Another unnecessary PITA, which of course took a couple hours to complete. The locks had been cut off of my rifle vase by agents in Frankfurt and the contents were in disarray... it appeared that they had taken note of a small can of Rem Oil and removed it from the case. The Canada customs agent was efficient and fair and perked up with interest in my hunt, asking if I had any pictures of the animals taken. I had a six hour wait for the connecting flight during which, I applied and reapplied "After Sun" gel to my swollen ans blistered legs.
I was exhausted but satisfied when I finally made it home. All in all, a terrific experience was had and without a doubt, I will be back to enjoy may more African adventures in the future. If you are looking for a grand African experience and free range hunting for plains game, consider Khomas Highland Safaris, you will not be disappointed.
