We drove over from Lincolnville in the early afternoon to Weatherby’s Fishing Lodge in Maine, the air crisp and fresh with a hint of pine.
We settled into our rustic log cabin with a fireplace and moose antlers mounted on the door.
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As I lay in my canvas wall tent inside the heart of Zambia's Luangwa Valley, I could hardly believe where I was: this remote, wild stretch of heaven on Earth overrun with an incredible array of wildlife. By my side was Wighardt, my long-time friend from South Africa, and beyond the tent's flimsy walls, the silhouettes of massive elephants moved like ghosts against the African sky. One immense bull elephant rummaged for pods in the Sausage tree next to me, so close I could hear the intricate workings of his insides—a wondrous reminder of how vulnerable and yet alive we were in this untamed place.
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The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the North Georgia mountains as Gretchen and I packed our fly-fishing gear into the back of our vehicle. Both of us were brimming with excitement for Gretchen’s first big fly-fishing outing on the Soque River. We had booked a stay at the Glenn-Ella Springs Bed & Breakfast, and after a cozy night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, we met up with our guides, Gabs and Sam, ready for the day ahead.
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“Uuhaa, uuhaa, uuhaa” that was the low guttural sound that awakened us early in the morning as we lay in our camp beds on a cool night in the Okavango Delta of Botswana. I turned to Girdy and said, “did you hear that?” We lay still and heard it again. It started with the low uuhaa, uuhaa, uuhaa, then the low guttural sound went up a few octaves and then into an all-out roar.
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We recently went on a trip to the Canadian providence of Alberta and stayed at the Fairmont Banff Springs resort located in the city of Banff in the Banff National Park. It was a pleasant stay allowing us to escape the sweltering heat of central Alabama in July. The highs were in the sixties each day and many days were overcast.
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I lifted my rod tip and made a roll cast toward the bank and let the streamer drift from the bank with the current. At the end of the drift, I took a long strip and I felt bump, and I did a double tap strip set
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This September I made a trip out to Oregon to fly fish for wild Rainbows in the Metolius River. The Metolius is a small river in central Oregon near Sisters.
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In March of this year, 2022, my son Mason and I made a trip to Argentina for high volume dove shooting and fishing for Golden Dorado. It was a great father son trip and a great bonding experience. We started out on an overnight flight from Atlanta to Buenos Aires. We were fortunate enough to fly Delta One where we were able to get a good night’s sleep on the plane and arrive in Buenos Aires around 9 am the next morning.
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“Beside rivers, we seldom fill our minds with fears of many things that will never be. Here honest, civil, quiet men are free from dread…. Rivers and the inhabitants of the watery element were made for wise men to contemplate and fools to pass by.” – Isaac Walton
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I was reading Ernest Hemingway’s novel “The Sun Also Rises” for the third time and as a result I got the idea stuck in my head that I wanted to go fly fishing for trout in Spain. Hemingway has inspired many travel and sporting adventures I have participated in over the years, and I have not been disappointed. I think Papa had good taste in adventure and sport and he has a way of describing a country in such a way that makes me want to explore it myself.
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Brush Creek Ranch is a slice of paradise located near Saratoga Wyoming in South Central Wyoming’s North Platter River Valley. It has been featured in Condé Nast, Robb Report and Travel + Leisure as one of the best resorts in the world. I would classify it as a luxury dude ranch. I am an outdoor enthusiast and was attracted to the activities like horse back riding, sporting clays, and fly fishing; however, in looking for a place where my wife could accompany me it has many other offerings as well, such as world class dining, cocktails and accommodations. There is something here for everyone, it has a 5 star spa and activities that can range from yoga to ATV riding tours.
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We were bouncing along in an early 80’s model blue and white F-150 long bed pickup truck over an old cattle track across a prairie near Winnett, Montana. Winnett is located in Petroleum County situated slightly east of center of the state and has a population of 182. Larry Pendleton, our guide, reached into the pocket of his blue flannel shirt and pulled out a tin of Prince Albert tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. As he tried to steer the with the wheel pressed between his forearms, he rolled a cigarette, carefully pouring in the tobacco then licking the paper and rolling between his thumbs and fore fingers.
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What I love about Africa is it is unpredictable, wild and beautiful. One of the last wild places in the world where terrible beasts roam that can stomp you into mush or rip the flesh right from your bones. Every bush seems to have thorns to tear your clothes, the fish have teeth and the rivers are treacherous as they are the territory of the hippo and croc, of which both have nasty temperaments and the ability to inflict great harm on the careless. There is a raw primeval beauty in the bush, the sunsets are blood red as well as at dusk, and into the night the chorus of birds, lions, hippos, hyenas, baboons and the leopard can be heard within a few yards of where your tent may be pitched.
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I was trying to balance on the front platform of the 17-foot bass boat with the waters of the great Zambezi River flowing underneath as we drifted with the current. I had just finished another strip retrieve and lifted my 8-weight rod to do a water haul to load the rod and cast back up river to complete another drift. The big Clouser Minnow hit the water as I lowered the rod tip to let it sink and start another drift. Just as I was midway through the drift I felt a slight tug, so I lifted the rod to give it a quick jerk and then things started to get interesting.
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Some peoples live lightly on the land while others rip their livings from the ground. Farmers build and cultivate. Miners move the earth and peel back the layers and sometimes strip it to extract the minerals. Subsistence hunters record their passing inside caves and on rock walls.
They leave scars that never quite heal. Some change the land for the better and some for worse, but no group of humans leaves the land the way they found it.
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We were tracking a small bachelor group of about five animals. I had a desire to take an old Dugga Boy with a large boss and worn tips, a “proper bull” as they say. We lost the track for a little while in the tall grass, and as we were meandering around tying to get back on the spore, we aroused a Caracal from its sleep and it jumped up and bolted causing my heart to skip a beat. Finally, as Noah and Nelson, my African trackers, fanned out ahead we were able to pick up the spore again in a dry river bed. Darren, my PH, kicked the sand with the toe of his boot in the dry river bed and sighed as he tapped out a smoke from the pack and watched as the wind swirled. This time of day, mid-morning, as the heat starts to rise the thermals create an unstable wind.
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No one answered our knock. Brian Smith turned the knob and we stepped into the quiet living room. Quiet voices drifted from the kitchen. And smells, fried quail, beans, cabbage and pecan pie.
Bessie sat on a stool in front of the kitchen sink and GeorgeAnn leaned against the counter, shredding walnuts for the cookies.
We stacked luggage in the front room and retired to the porch. Smith claimed a rocking chair, selected a cigar and uncorked a bottle of amber liquid.
“I was born for this,” he said, and pointed his cigar at the sunset. No doubt of that.
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In late fall of 2015 I headed West to Oregon for a few days of upland bird hunting and to be present for the opening of Mule deer season. I took a friend, Ted Winglass, for his first Western hunting experience. We were hunting Ruggs Ranch in Heppner, Oregon, located within the Blue Mountains in the north-central part of the state.
Upon arriving at the lodge we were greeted by Chef John Kulon, affectionately known as “Cookie”, and he served us an appetizer he called “wild game sushi” which was rice rolls with wild bird meat and avocado. Later we had raccoon sausage, and fried quail with mashed potatoes. Cookie was quite an accomplished and creative cook. I was skeptical about the idea of sausage made from raccoon meat; however it was quite good. After dinner we retired to the patio and fire pit, situated in an elevated position over looking an alpha pivot with the Blue Mountains as a back drop, and watched deer and pheasants meander in and out of the field as we sipped our bourbon and smoked a good cigar.
The lodge was a nice place to begin the trip. It was very tastefully decorated with wood beams, beautiful wood and leather furnishings and the bedding was done with Pendleton Wool blankets. Heppner is not very far from world famous Pendleton Oregon, home of one of the oldest and largest rodeos and where Pendleton wool blankets are made as well as Pendleton whiskey. We would be spending several days in this setting as we tried our hand at upland bird shooting before we would head up to the tent camp for deer hunting.
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I have had a burning desire to hunt New Zealand since my PH on my first African Safari, Nick Roet, told me stories of hunting on the Island with the Kiwis and showed me pictures of the beautiful landscapes. Nick is a native of South Africa, of Dutch Decent; however he moved his family to New Zealand when the political environment in South Africa started to change and he felt the environment was not a safe place to raise his family.
A little over a year ago my good friend and hunting companion from Oregon, Gary Lewis, called me and said he was planning a trip to the New Zealand to hunt stag. Gary Lewis is an outdoor author who has published several books, my favorite is Going Ballistic which is a book about the life and adventures of John Nosler. Gary also informed me that he was taking his wife Merrilee, so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to take my wife Gretchen to a beautiful place and fulfill my dream of bagging a large Stag.
Part of the fun for me in any hunting adventure is the preparation. A big part of that is choosing the weapon and ammo that I want to use for the adventure. I decided to take my trusty Weatherby Mark V rifle chambered in 7mm rem mag. The rifle is topped with a 3,5 x 10x40 Zeiss Conquest scope. I chose the 7mm because I thought I may have to shoot some distance and that is the flattest shooting rifle I own with the exception of my varmint rifles that would not do the trick on a large Stag. I am a huge fan of Nosler ammunition; however I decided to try the Barnes X bullet for this trip, primarily because I was trying to go top range in the bullet weight for the 7mm and they have a “XFB” bullet in 175 grain for 7mm. The bullet did do the trick (second time around) and I was able to recover the bullet just under the hide on opposite side of shoulder of the Stag and I am not impressed with the performance. In the future I am sticking with the Nosler Partition. The powder used was 54 grains of IMR 4831. The accuracy of the loads was excellent, the performance of the bullet at impact and retention is what was not particularly impressive.
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When I was in South Africa in 2009 I started planning for the day when I would take my son to experience the wonders of the Dark Continent. I wanted to take him on Safari when he turned 16. I discussed this with my good friend Gary Lewis, of Gary Lewis Outdoors, and Willem Gerhardt Van Der Gryp (Wighardt) the PH that we hunted with in 2009. Over the last 5 years I had been eagerly anticipating the day when I could watch my young son enjoy the experience of hunting in that special place.
I started last year by taking Mason out to shoot my Winchester Model 70 .375 H&H Magnum with Kales 1.1 x 4 scope. This gun is the stainless and black synthetic stock model and has served me very well on many hunts. Not only has it served me well, but on every hunt I have been on to date someone in my hunting party has borrowed my gun because it simply gets the job done. I initially had a concern that Mason would not be able to handle the recoil of the .375 H&H and was considering a 30-06 as a backup plan. I took him out to the range at our hunting lease and let him shoot it and he said he felt comfortable shooting it so we decided to opt for “old reliable”. After sighting in we made several trips over the few months preceding the hunt for him to practice. We practiced all of his shots off the sticks in both standing and sitting positions.
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