Savannah Hunt (very pic heavy)

[havgunwilltravel]

The sleek .375HnH shells stacked nicely in the magazine as I pressed the 3rd round down and closed the bolt on an empty chamber. Rifle was slung, gear gathered and we strung out across the plain. There were two trackers, Remi and Jonas, and four porters plus a camp cook. Each person was carrying gear, food or water. We had a decent distance to cover to set up our first camp and the heals soon kicked into gear.
My mind wandered back to the previous 110 hours that had passed since I had walked out my front door. I had been faced with a few delays in that long period of time, ten hours lying on an airport bench in Bangkok, an unexpected night stuck in Nairobi, long plane flights and even longer drives to get to the north of Cameroon passing through the poorest of villages and roads that were possibly in the worst condition I had ever travelled on. But it was all part of the adventure and that is exactly what I had come here to seek.
First night in the village was simple and basic.

Next morning I laid out my gear to select what I would take into the mountains.

There was a ceremony by the village chief to bring me luck that involved a sharp knife and a chicken who would be soon headless and a smattering of blood over the Weatherby. It’s all part of the culture and belief in the greater powers above. My diary reads the first day was hard work. The tracker had seen a herd of Lord Derby Eland tracks cross the valley a couple of days previous and had a hunch they could be in this part of the range. We got to our intended campsite to find some cattle herders had shifted cattle into the area and this annoyed Jonas. Apparently the giant Eland and cattle and people do not mix well and we scratched around for another campsite with decent water.

After camp was set up it was midday and the hottest part of the day so we rested a few hours then took off trying to pick up either eland or buffalo tracks. The views were awesome from some ledges and I spent much time glassing for not a lot of result.

We came to another waterhole that Jonas wanted to check for tracks and the boys found plenty of snares and ankle traps for game. They immediately destroyed all equipment used by the poachers.

Easing over rocky knolls and into valleys we searched hard for game, the terrain was easy enough to hunt through and the habitat varied depending on what aspect of the hill we were on and any recent burns.

Towards dark I got tangled up in a nice thorny plant, I wore shorts the entire time and it never bothered me, but I kept a sharp eye out for thorns for the rest of the trip. It really wasn’t too bad where we were and i have seen it much worse in places down south.

We tracked some smoking buff tracks in the last hour of light, but got beaten by the closing darkness and watched a small group of colobus monkeys in a tree calling out to each other as we made our way back to camp. They were making a drumming noise and Jonas said this was a sign of good luck. We had seen a couple of bushbuck during the day and one nice male, but he wasn’t old enough to tempt me and a couple of female grey duiker. Sleep came easy as I sat in the tent and looked at the stars drifting off, just happy to be finally in a place I had dreamt about hunting in for the last twenty years.
Come the first signs of daylight we were already loaded up and heading off the escarpment, we did a loop around to see if we could find those buffalo from the night before but no luck so we took a spur, descended and headed across the plain to the taller mountains on the other side.

I have to admit that part of the porters and trackers deal was to carry my pack, that is the way they do these hunts, and whilst I wasn’t complaining I have to admit it didn’t feel right to only have my rifle, camera and optics as weight to burden me. Mind you as the hunt progressed and we loaded up with extra weight from meat I made sure I took my share to help out. I had previously been training very hard on my cardio, and the running and cycling I had done certainly assisted my hunt.
Up ahead we caught sight of another person walking along the edge of the timber, he was close to the mountain we were about to climb and had a few dogs. The boys started whispering that he could be a poacher. The excitement level raised pretty quickly as we dropped into a dip then gained elevation. The guy ahead had streaked a few extra fast steps in and we realized he knew we were onto him. The lads dropped their packs and the poacher took off sprinting hard. I knew he was carrying something on his shoulders and had put the binos on him to make sure it wasn’t a rifle and only made out a couple of spears. Remi sprinted hard but Jonas was incredible running hard gaining on the poacher. But he wasn’t giving up easy and a kilometer he later was cornered up a tight gully by the guys. There was a lot of shouting going on and I could imagine the poacher wasn’t in a good position. I had seen pictures of previous poachers that had been caught and a fair bit of blood was normally lost before they were led to the police. This guy got visible scared when he seen me and we led him back to the packs. The guys were giving him a dressing down and said he could go, but Jonas had one little chore for him to do. And that was carry my pack up the mountain we were about to climb. He had no choice and buckled up the Eberlestock.

His dogs were not welcome and the guys tried their best to machete them without luck. It’s a brutal world in remote parts of Africa, and the poachers can and do wreck havoc on game herds in all regions. They are the number one reason for a decline in numbers for many species in many regions.
The climb was completed and we leveled out onto a plateau. Splitting up the trackers and I checked out a waterhole for tracks whilst the porters eased up to a saddle to wait for us. There were fresh buffalo tracks at the waterhole and as we were leaving a sharp whistle was heard from a porter. Immediately Jonas changed gears and knew what that meant. Game was ahead. We pushed quick through the scrub until we found the porter who had come back to get us and he was pointing up the ridge. There lay a buffalo, on his own and staring in our direction. We sat down and I glassed him at 70 metres. It was the first Western Savannah buff I had seen in the flesh and it was hard to judge him with his nose up looking at us. I wanted to make sure he was a mature bull with hard bosses or else I wouldn’t be shooting. I did not want to shoot a young bull just to say I have shot the buff up in Northern Cameroon. His horns looked decent, but they were dwarfed by his massive ears and I hesitated not sure if he was what I wanted. The two trackers said he was big, but I wanted to make sure he was old, not just a big pile of meat for them to smoke. I had previously tested them out on a bushbuck that was not quite old enough to be fully mature with horn growth and Remi said he was still young. The bull swiveled his head around and I got a glimpse of his bosses and thought he looked solid so it was time for action.
I leant the rifle against a tree and put the crosshairs on him, it was a tough angle, in through the hip or a neck shot as he was facing away. I didn’t like either but decided on a shot into his neck when the crosshairs steadied. The recoil of the .375 pushed into me as the bull rolled over kicking, but he was soon on his feet lumbering to the left. I knew I had missed bone and put the crosshairs on his chin and touched off another. The bullet hit him in his chest, but a touch high and spun him around so he stood there facing me at a quartering position. The third quickly followed into his front shoulder and he toppled over. We made our way over to him as he took his last breath and celebrated the harvest of an old bull.

 

[havgunwilltravel]

He was an old warrior, covered with horns scars and puncture wounds from fighting his brothers and he had a great set of horns that were just starting to broom and were heavy with a hard boss that was not going to get any better. I couldn’t have taken a better buff and knew it would be very hard to ever beat a buff of this caliber on a self guided Cameroon hunt.

We took plenty of time to set him up for photos and he was an old bag of bones that had seen better days.

As we were rolling him we noticed his front left hoof was swollen badly from an old snare wound and his shin was heavily torn up with bone and muscle showing from his terrible battle with this cruel form of meat gathering the poachers implement.

We decided to camp in a saddle up the hill from the buffalo so that guys could work on the meat and they removed and utilized every last piece of skin, meat, bone and intestine.

Everything was used and all that was left was the contents of the stomach on the ground, which were squeeze out of the lining. I noticed an infection in one of his puncture wounds and maggots were inside trying to work there magic. Buffalo are incredibly hardy animals, especially the African type but I wasn’t sure how much longer this old guy would have had on the hill.
With a few hours of daylight left we pushed off doing a loop checking out waterholes and finding plenty of Eland sign, but nothing fresh enough to follow. Camp was a welcome sight that night and I sat and ate dinner with the boys, like I did at every meal and enjoyed their happy banter around the fire, now glad that meat had been secured.

And this would be the pattern for the next few days. Long distance walks covering everything from peaks, to saddles to plateaus all the while trying to find a set of bull eland tracks that were fresh enough to follow.
Droppings were frequent, but the eland are notorious for moving large distances on a daily basis and knew it would have to be a combination of luck and hard work to find the Eland track we needed to.

We would hike hard from pre dawn to around 11am and then find a rest for 3 hours whilst the heat was intense then get back to it and cover more ground until dark often coming back by headlight.
During our midday breaks the flies were always keen for moisture.

My heals took a beating, I had ordered some new Meindls six months previous to break in for the hunt and they were a touch small. Last minute decision to take a pair of Scarpas that my mate had that were a touch big didn’t roll my way so I resorted to using my running shoes for the duration of the hunt. Next trip I will just take a pair of trail runners.





Often our food at lunch was minimal, I took some nuts over and they were a worthy asset, sometimes we had rice and at times we had leftover meat to snack on. The buffalo simmered all night was good tucker the next day.

I learnt a lot from the trackers, how the bush provides for all their needs and I enjoyed watching them use a leaf for a spoon as I fumbled with my metal utensil.

The guys back at camp were hard at it smoking the meat on make shift racks and eating meat until they could eat no more.

The scenery was spectacular up high and whilst the view was often prohibited by a smoky haze from the fires below, it was still nice to take in any vistas we could gain.

 

[havgunwilltravel]

Rocky outcroppings were great to glass off, and whilst I was always hoping to glass up Eland or any game, I never found much four legged wildlife. Plenty of birds, but not much else, still it was enjoyable to be glassing at every opportunity.

A few days after we harvested the buffalo we decided to pack up early at daybreak and walk out to the village far below. We had seen game everyday on our travels but the Eland had eluded us. We found tracks two to three days old of a mature bull a number of times but just couldn’t get him fresh enough.
At first light we headed out and came across a group of buffalo on a plateau. With the wind right they were having a hard time figuring us out.

Circling around we kept in the hunt whilst the porters had taken a different route to get back down. We again picked up the same bull eland tracks and held our breath hoping for a last minute chance, but it wasn’t to be as it wasn’t much good being where he was three days prior. Along the way we found a monkey that had been beaten to an inch of its life by another monkey and we caught it and took it down to the village.

I thought about the animals we had seen, red and grey duikers, bushbuck, buffalo, and the many tracks from a diverse range of game from red river hog and warthog to oribi and elephant and I knew it was a place I would return in the coming years to hunt again. Only one snake was seen and both Jonas and I had walked passed it before it rattled some leaves and slithered into a cave. About a metre long and black Remi didn’t think it was a mamba, that was relieving as I didn’t fancy tangling with any of the local snake varieties to permanently end my hunt/life.
The pace picked up as we got closer to the village and we met the porters and all took a load of meat and gear to level things out. My bag of meat stunk, but it probably wasn’t much worse then the way I smelt after putting almost 90kms under my shoes over the last few days trying for an Eland.
Back at the village we quickly split the meat, gave some to the villagers and loaded up the Toyota. We had another area to check out and I was keen to see its potential.
On the way we did some shopping for basic supplies and I brought all the guys bread, drinks and snacks to show appreciation for their efforts.

The roads are horrendous up North and it took many hours to traverse a couple hundred kilometres. Little game was sighted and as we pulled into the boundary of our hunting area I thought it best we put the rifle back together and make the most of the last hour of daylight as we headed to camp. I will take the last hour out of the day over all the other hours put together to get it done on critters and this evening was no different when I spotted a pair of Sing Sing waterbuck bulls on a ridge. I quickly grabbed the rifle and gained elevation to put the optic on them and get a better view over the grass. Left bull was nice, but not mature and the right bull was quite good with curling horns and good length. I knew with only a couple of days here to hunt I would be hard pressed to find a better waterbuck and centred the crosshairs two thirds of the way up his shoulder and eased back on the trigger for a 200 metre shot. A loud whack drifted back as the bull toppled over and his previously unseen herd drifted off into the timber.

We made short work of the pictures and managed to get him whole into the back. The staff were joyous and everybody was happy as we made it to our huts in the dark and got ready for the next days hunt.
Again we were up in the dark and walking along a semi open ridge after getting dropped off by the vehicle. We passed up a good bushbuck ram who still needed to see a couple more seasons and then a big grey duiker strolled passed at close range. I took a good look at him and thought I would not do any better with this species here and put a bullet through his shoulder blades.

We looped around to camp with a few waterbuck seen and some more duikers and got the fishing rod ready for a go in the river out front. It was getting towards the end of the dry season and there were three large pools that held many fish, but the ones that interested us greatly were the tigerfish and nile perch. I was soon chucking lures and plastics working a few different depths and rocky structures and managed to land a decent tigerfish. They are an incredible sportfish, possibly one of the better fighting fish to do battle with. They have the four ingredients to make them special when hooked up. Speed, staminia, aerobatics and raw power. They don’t give up easily and I was relieved to have him on the bank.









Their teeth are wicked and often there is many strikes between hook ups. Plastics don’t last long before getting chopped behind the hook and next time I will rig up some stingers or an extra trouble with the plastics.

I also caught a few nile perch and they fight well, dogged and determined.

 

[havgunwilltravel]

That afternoon we grabbed the single barrel shotgun and chased a few guinea fowl for dinner. A fine sporting bird to pass some midday hours on.

Last two hours of daylight found us threading our way along the river, there were many tracks of animals criss crossing over and visiting waterholes and our aim was the red duiker, an animal I dearly wanted to harvest.

We soon found one drinking at a small waterhole tucked in against heavy cover and snuck in whilst we had the opportunity. The horns on red duiker are extremely hard to see and we looked for a few minutes before deciding he was a good male and I sat down to take the shot. The rifle roared, and dirt exploded above his back. He was gone in a flash. I was disappointed and there was no blood, so glad it was a clean miss. We still had some time left and were confident of finding another red duiker along the river.
That night Remi and I fished for a while in the dark and caught a few Nile Perch. It was relaxing under the stars and winding down after a long day on the hunt.
Up in the dark Remi was knocking on the door for our little pre dawn fish, we caught a couple more Nile Perch before the first rays of light started coming and were scampered back to the cabins, swapped weapons of choice and walked out up the riverbed towards yesterdays action. I had decided to throw my hat in the ring and hunt for a red duiker until my time was gone, and that would be tomorrow at 9am when I would have to leave.
300 metres into the walk and I glassed a good bushbuck coming to water. He looked splendid as the Harnessed sub species are and he had plenty of horn above his ears when he walked side on. I was well aware they don’t get as big as their Southern cousins, and this was the best bushbuck I had seen this trip out of maybe a dozen males. He drank as I leveled out on the sand getting a rest over the Eberlestock. He took a few steps and paused looking up the hill. Taking my time with the crosshairs on his armpit a third of the way up I sent one off and rolled him into the dirt. Making our way I realized the bullet had gone a bit high and a touch to the right and this reaffirmed that I thought the rifle was shooting a bit out. A test later that day would confirm this.
The bushbuck was beautiful and I took in his grace and markings.

We called the workers up and they came to carry him back to camp whilst we kept going. A couple of red duikers were seen but I didn’t shoot as we couldn’t identify horns, even though we were quite sure both had them. Before we were 100% both animals made it into cover and I was starting to think I had used up my share of luck.
We had a good place on a bend to watch a lot of the heavy cover and glassed until 10am.

Back at camp we fished some more over the midday hours, it was dreadfully hot and I got a few snacks and food from the town for the guys to eat at dinner as it was my last night in camp with them.
Two hours before dark we pushed off and immediately game was on the move heading to water. It was clear that the heat had got them on their feet early and some cob were seen on the side of a pool. More bushbuck and then a red duiker stepped out 500 metres away up the river. We bolted up there trying to close the distance before he stepped back in but he beat us to cover and we stood there trying to work out where to sit and watch the flats for the evening.
I said I would sit by a waterhole where one of the mornings duiker had fed in to cover and maybe the boys go back to the bend and let me know by arm signal if they had a duiker in view. I also kept up river thinking the animal that had just fed in might step back out. The boys were set up on the bend and I glanced back to the waterhole to see a red duiker drinking at 80 metres! A quick look with the binoculars and a lucky break to have sand behind him to confirm horns had me laying down and putting him in the scope. Most likely my last chance at a red duiker and with him side on I had to take the shot before he moved off. At the report of the rifle the boys came bolting up the river bed, I stayed there by my pack for them to reach me and showed them the duiker kicking his last in the water. They raced over to the duiker and yelled out he was an old male before I could gather my gear and head over. We were ecstatic, it was a great old animal and the boys knew I was very keen on the red duiker. It was a good moment on the sandbar as we took plenty of images.

He had one horn busted a little, but I couldn’t have cared one minute about that, he had age and was a perfect trophy to take.

On the way back to camp in the last couple of minutes a herd of red river hogs drank at water then scampered across the open sand. They knew danger increased the longer they spent in open country in daylight hours.

Back at camp Remi and I decided to fish for an hour in the dark and we both caught Nile Perch with him taking an awesome fish around the 12kg mark. It was an epic battle and included me up to my waist in the water with the headlight trying to secure the fish.

That evening we all sat around and talked, ate the food I had brought, any leftovers I had in my gear and drunk a few glasses of soft drink. We reflected on an incredible journey. From start to finish it was an amazing adventure that I simply didn’t want to end. But even as I began the long drive south that would signal the start of much travel before I was to make it home, I was already planning my next trip to this amazing country.
A big thanks goes to Cam Greig who logistically organized a lot of the paperwork and licensing for this hunt as well as the staff and hunting areas. Nothing is guaranteed on a self guided hunt in Cameroon, but you will have an experience to last a lifetime. There were no certainties, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

 

[tarheel]

A great tell of what must have been quite an experience. Thanks for taking me along.

 

[1_pointer]

WOW! Now that is my type of African hunt. A true adventure! Thanks for sharing.

I'd like to see some pics and hear the details of that rifle. It looks like it's been around the block.

 

[noharleyyet]

What a splendid share, thanks havegun! Amazing pictures!

 

[dustinf]

Awesome, I'm extremely jealous.

Did you end up learning French, or did you find a porter/tracker that spoke English?

I should have made more of an effort to tag along, but Cameroon is really tough for Americans.

 

[Southwind]

Very nice, thanks for sharing.

 

[MinnesotaHunter]

Awesome, That is an adventure if I have ever heard of one.

 

[Gerald Martin]

Incredible adventure! Thanks for sharing it with us.

 

[Bambistew]

One of the last true hunting adventures left on the planet, and you owned it! Well done!

Of all places one could go hunt, this exact trip ranks right at the top of my list.

Thank you for sharing your adventure!

 

[Bwana]

Thanks so much for taking us along on your incredible adventure.

 

[idnative1948]

Thanks for letting us go along.

 

[EODRay]

What an incredible adventure that was wonderfully told. I'm sure you will never forget a second of it.
Way to make the most of it!

 

[idahofishnhunt]

Great pictures and story...thanks!

 

[ERMINE]

Thanks for all the pictures and writing it is a fantastic story!

Cheers

 

[roadhunter]

Awesone!

 

[DaveNT]

Great trip,congratulations on your success, you definitely deserved it.

I can only wonder the amount of time and effort that would of been put in to organize a trip like that,i would imagine things could get out of shape rapidly in a remote location such as that,a cool head would definitely be a prerequisite.

Regards
Dave.

 

[kiwi hunter]

great read and pics,,those red river hogs look good