To make matters worse, our car broke down in the field. one of the wheel bearings was defective and we drove back to camp at a crawling pace, always hoping that it would hold out.
Fortunately, there was a replacement vehicle there.
As my PH wrote to me later, the repair cost 80 USD + spare part.
80.- USD for which my BMW workshop in Munich looks under the bonnet just once, but only once, not twice.
However, these prices are of course different from ours.
By the way, the current exchange rate is 1 USD = 800.- Zimb Dollar !!!!
(the litre of diesel 1.50 USD)
And nobody wants the latter. Because nobody likes to have so many plastic bags with worthless paper to pay their bills.
These lovely, cheerful people there have a really hard life, and it's a wonder to me that they still haven't lost their sense of humour.
I had a straw hut with a cement floor, behind the bed a half-high wall, behind it the "bathroom".
Now and then a frog would sit there in the evening and try to croak me to sleep.
This was not possible, as frogs are the main prey of many snakes and I did not want to invite them to eat. So I always took them out into the fresh air, leaving them to their fate.
it want always give me a night concert
I actually wanted to take my Ferlach double rifle with me on this trip.
It is an over and under double, in cal .458 Win Mag.
And I loaded 480gn bullets from Degol. A Belgian premium bullet manufacturer.
You want to try something different now and then.
But strangely enough, both !!! firing pins didn't work. I haven't found the cause yet, because I can't take the rifle in for repair until after Christmas.
But in the end I was glad to have my bolt action. A Brno Safari in calibre .375 H+H with variable Swarowski scope.
A simple repeater with a 98 system is almost as robust as a baseball bat and not as sensitive as a double rifle.
Any of you who carry both systems will know the difference.
But men like us always need something else to play with.
And African hunters who hunt big game always have the best discussions about it at home in front of the fireplace with their hunting friends.
Buffalo were almost always there and we followed some herds and bachelor groups until we were totally tired.
But we always lacked the last bit of luck to finish the job. Most of the time the wind shifted and off we went, or when we approached a strong bull on the last metres, a herd of zebras galloped past us and took him away. There was always something.
Getting up at 4.00 a.m. also made itself felt.
And the idea of hunting in South Africa in a luxurious lodge on their bred grazing buffalobulls; this thought is no longer as strange to me as it was 10 years ago.
You just get older, even if I don't want to admit it
.
The hunt for the king
Here you can see a good buffalo bull track.
but this
took our breath away.
Although not quite as fresh, the buffalo had plenty of water and food everywhere at this time of year, so they didn't move around as much, and they didn't have to, as they were standing in their supermarket when they weren't being flushed out by lions.
So we hoped that this king of all Daggaboys had not left his home and the boys tracked him down, better than any well-trained search dog.
After 1 hour we had him!
And there he was.
On a slight hill about 70m away, looking at us, wondering what kind of strange creatures we were.
The stick was placed in front of me in no time at all and I somehow tried to find a reasonable target. But I did not succeed.
There were metres of bushes in front of his chest and head.
Only his wide-sweeping horns protruded from the bushes and a mighty curl to go with it.an absolute rarity.
And no vital target to be seen.
Damn.
My men, of course, urged me to shoot.
But I would have had to wound the animal deliberately, and I couldn't do that.
Plus he would know who had caused him the pain and a buffalo hunt in thick stuff is anything but fun hunting.
On top of that, wounded and not found - full price.
This is also an important point, not ethically, but economically.
No, it just didn't work.
And this all happened within a few seconds and then the spook was over and the king disappeared never to be seen again.
Our disappointment was great and I noticed in the looks of the trackers a certain reproach for not having shot.
But what the hell.
My hunt and also my responsibility.
So the last day of hunting passed and we returned to camp, tired in body and mind.
What I will take to heart much more for myself in the future:
If we are tracking a herd and an old, good bull is there-soft coat.
But for a single track or a bachelor group.
Only solid..
They are suddenly there and are almost always in the thick stuff.
There is no time to change the cartridge. It has to be quick.
Why were the buffaloes so shy:
Well, a buffalo,10years and older did not become so old for nothing.
There are 20-23 outfitters in the Save.
The buffaloes are followed by guests all year round and when the hunting season ends for 2-3 months -lions and poachers stay on their tracks. They are on the lookout, hear banging all year round and probably know most car brands by the sound of their engines as they drive through the bush.
Except for a few lucky circumstances, it is always a challenge.
Heady Maiden moth /amata cerbera eating the elephant dung.
The early onset of the rainy season threw a spanner in the works and out of only 6 days of hunting I lost almost three whole days because of it. Two more days and I would have had one. I am sure of that.
circle of life
The things were packed, tips were distributed, the farewells were heartfelt and the next morning we were in the car at 5.00 a.m. heading for the main road where an ordered taxi was waiting for us.
As I wrote earlier ?
There is always something, and here too.
Elephants must have put another tree across the road and we couldn't get past it. There was only one way out.
And-no axe on board!
So we drove back 20 minutes in a hurry,loaded up the axe and crew and off we went.the tree was felled,we prayed that no other tree was lying on the forest tracks (or the strange native axe was broken )
And in an AFFENZAHN (fullspeed) we drove 60 km of sand track to the turnpike.my tropical doctor,whom I visit before every such trip to check my vaccination card,always says to me,the worst thing that can happen to you in Africa is a traffic accident. Living with this thought, I asked the driver to slow down a bit and was already mentally prepared to miss the plane and get accommodated in Harare for the next flight.
But the driver told me not to worry, everything would be fine (all of a sudden?).
And to say goodbye, a herd of elephants and a herd of 200 head !!! of buffalo actually ran across the road and drove unharmed to the "Boom" where we, my PH and I, got into a taxi.
At the airport, gun control was a breeze.My PH Mathew,a local Shona chatted with the officials as familiarly as with friends and the police even brought my luggage to check-in. It was like VIP service. That is how courteous they were.
On exit, no one wanted to see a Coronatest and I boarded the plane feeling safe after saying goodbye to my PH like a good friend.
My route was Harare,Johannesburg,Frankfurt,Munich and I was looking forward to home.
But why should everything go smoothly here too?
This trip really had it all.
Shortly before boarding in Johannesburg, the pilot said there was no oxygen in the cockpit cabin. A technician now fetched an oxygen cylinder, but the pipe to determine the leakage also had to be checked and that would probably take hours.........
After four !! hours, we were finally able to board the plane and we all hoped that the line would remain tight for the overnight flight to Frankfurt.
I missed the connecting flight to Munich, my luggage arrived two days later. But now everything is there, intact and in one piece.
The buffalo king follows me every day.
Should I have shot him and taken my chances?
This subject occupies me far too often and I know I still have a score to settle with him and hope for a meeting next year.
Well friends, that's it, I hope I haven't bored you too much with my short trip to Africa and I wish you a Merry Christmas.
Don't put off anything in life.
Carpe diem.
Finally a photo of an absolute, even if deadly beauty, which did not let itself be disturbed by me.
a Green Mamba
