Namibia. Evocative. Man country.
Spend the first ten minutes looking out the window on your way from the airport and you'll see why. This was a business trip, but it became a lot more.
The ranch buildings faced east from the side of a hill and stood sentinel over a dry river and a vast acacia dotted, grassy plain whose edges folded into a million hills and merged with some mountains on the horizon. In the car park and headed to reception, we had to stop and watch the drama unfolding in the distance, seeing the peaks growing storm dark and seeming to writhe under a flickering line of continuous lightning strikes. No rushing winds or rumbling, but the static was building.
Walking onto the deck that hung over that view, made us eagles in the warm rising air along a cliffs edge. The assault on our senses was unbalancing and physical, silencing us, for nowhere had we imagined a place like this.
The beer arrived in long, very cold glasses and we drank to steady our emotions, to wash away the dust and the week and finally to salute the wonders around us.
Next morning the land cruiser low geared its way down the long, steep drive to the river bed, its heavy tyres crushing slate and sending fragments skipping off the roadway. Joining the maintenance team on their day long trip to the eastern boundary was an opportunity we couldn't miss, and then there was a last minute request from the chef to return with a young gemsbok for rations.
At the turnaround the cruiser broke down and Adrian was off in a moment, exploring only as far as some rock before sitting down to wait and drowse in the warm sun, while Alan pulled a hat over his eyes and settled into a hollow.
I followed the track deeper into the mountains, looking for a gemsbok.
There will be moments in hunting, as in life, when risks taken are rewarded, these may be rare, personal and may gift the hunt, and all those involved, with memories that grow the day.
Language
English
Pages
15
Format
Kindle Edition
Release
September 25, 2014
A gemsbok hunt in the Auas Mountains: an African hunting story...for when you can't be there (African Hunting Stories Book 6)
Namibia. Evocative. Man country.
Spend the first ten minutes looking out the window on your way from the airport and you'll see why. This was a business trip, but it became a lot more.
The ranch buildings faced east from the side of a hill and stood sentinel over a dry river and a vast acacia dotted, grassy plain whose edges folded into a million hills and merged with some mountains on the horizon. In the car park and headed to reception, we had to stop and watch the drama unfolding in the distance, seeing the peaks growing storm dark and seeming to writhe under a flickering line of continuous lightning strikes. No rushing winds or rumbling, but the static was building.
Walking onto the deck that hung over that view, made us eagles in the warm rising air along a cliffs edge. The assault on our senses was unbalancing and physical, silencing us, for nowhere had we imagined a place like this.
The beer arrived in long, very cold glasses and we drank to steady our emotions, to wash away the dust and the week and finally to salute the wonders around us.
Next morning the land cruiser low geared its way down the long, steep drive to the river bed, its heavy tyres crushing slate and sending fragments skipping off the roadway. Joining the maintenance team on their day long trip to the eastern boundary was an opportunity we couldn't miss, and then there was a last minute request from the chef to return with a young gemsbok for rations.
At the turnaround the cruiser broke down and Adrian was off in a moment, exploring only as far as some rock before sitting down to wait and drowse in the warm sun, while Alan pulled a hat over his eyes and settled into a hollow.
I followed the track deeper into the mountains, looking for a gemsbok.
There will be moments in hunting, as in life, when risks taken are rewarded, these may be rare, personal and may gift the hunt, and all those involved, with memories that grow the day.