Tanzania: 2005
endless red dunes of the Kalahari. In years of
good rain, the bright yellow, wintering sour
grass carpeted the troughs between the crests
of the scarlet dunes. The color contrast with
the cloudless blue of the sky was breathtaking.
There would be that sweet taste of the
koeksister pastries of Philippolis, a town in
the false Karoo of the Orange Free State. That
visit was the result of an invitation to shoot at
a new friend’s meat hunt. I remember walking
the quaint, almost deserted, Voortrekker
Road, and a visit with history to the Dutch
Reformed Church with its olivewood pulpit
which was built without a single nail. I
had my introduction to Karoo lamb and
the making of biltong and the traditional
boerewors (farmer’s sausage), and the unique
experience of a traditional braaivleis, or braai
(Afrikaans for barbeque). Fortunately, there
wouldbe many braaisin the future, but it
wouldtaketime. I needed to earn them!
I would enjoy an introduction to the
JohannesdeBeerfarmat Kimberley, the site
oftheGreatHolediamond excavation which
can be seen from space, the entire digging
being a hand-basketremoval of millions of
bucketsofearth,andthe capture of billions
of dollars of gems. There was a day spent
perusing thehistoricbuildings and displays
depicting life during
those early diamond
mining years. Cecil
Rhodes would use
some of the wealth to
carve out a political
career, create an
empire, and give
birth to new pioneers and a new country
calledRhodesia.
I hadyettoexperiencethe deafening silence
oftheNamibDesert,orthe groaning sound
ofcompressingsandas our Land Cruiser with
deflatedtiresclimbeddune after dune on a
trekfromSolitairetothe Atlantic Coast. To
handwasa GPSanda Government permit incobras,Namaand Damarapeople,andthe
magnificent giant oryx (gemsbok), perhaps
thefinestvenisononthecontinent.
It is almostimpossibletorankthevistasof
theAfricanbushveldintermsofsheerbeauty
orsignificance. There’sthemagicofa herd
of oryx bathed in the rays of yellowlight
castbythelateafternoonsun,astheycross
the Kalaharidunes, sometimes stopping to
glancebackwards,theirH-paintedfacesand
blackrapierhornsinsharpcontrastwiththe
redsand.
There would be many more trips to
Namibia, many to the Etosha National
Park,with imagesofflamingosonthepan,
black rhinoin thethornbush, and,atthe
waterduringthecoolingevenings,twohuge
male lions leaving a waterhole known as
Gemsbokvlakte.
TherewouldbeaneveningatOkaukuejo
waterholeandrestcampwithPeterCapstick,
theAmericanauthorofDeathin theLongCape bushbuck on the beach at Port Alfred RSA.
Grass and many other books recounting tales
of African hunting and adventure. He gave
me a .470-caliber cartridge developed and
named for him - the .470 Capstick Cartridge.
It sits in my trophy case along with photos of
the two of us sharing a sundowner together.
In later years
Namibia would give
me my second lion.
A huge male, pushed
out of the Etosha
National Park, was
preying on the cattle
on farms bordering
the Park. Circumstance played a role in my
being invited to join in on a friend’s attempt
at hyena hunting, as at the time Nature
Conservation was issuing a PAC to the farmer- a problem animal control tag. Sometimes
Fate smiles!
There would be incredible days spent
hunting springbok between the seemingly
I had yet to experience
the deafening silence
of the Namib Desert
Flamingo at Sandwich Bay, Namibia.