All travel has its risks, so do your best to be prepared for them.

Hunting is supposed to be fun, and it’s also, statistically, more injury-free than a lot of other hobbies and sports. There are, however, irrefutable principles to keep in mind. First is Murphy’s Law, “whatever can go wrong will,” and then there’s the corollary to Murphy’s Law: When something does go wrong it’s most like to happen at the worst possible time. There’s also the simple reality that, despite the very best preparations and precautions, bad things can and occasionally do happen to good people. I’m not a gloom and doom guy, and I don’t spend a lot of time brooding over stuff that might happen, but it’s always wise to keep the famous Boy Scout motto in mind: Be prepared!

While we tend to focus on catastrophic events such as getting bitten by a snake or a lion, the reality is that genuinely serious accidents are rare. Also, just like going to the grocery store at the corner, less glamorous events like vehicle accidents are more likely anywhere. As are ailments such as tummy issues from unfamiliar food. We’ll deal with more serious events in a bit, but minor cuts and scratches and inconvenient but non-life-threatening ailments are going to come along now and again.

Most outfitters have well-stocked medical kits for real emergencies, so it shouldn’t be necessary to take a heavy medical kit on outfitted hunts. Do-it-yourself expeditions are obviously different, but across the board it’s always a good idea to pack a personal first-aid kit against the little stuff. Most of the contents should be obvious: Band-Aids of various sizes; antiseptic wipes, and for sure antibiotic ointment. It depends on where you’re going, but it’s amazing how quickly even the smallest scratches can get infected in tropical climates. Obviously you must talk to your doctor about medications, but analgesics, a general antibiotic, and an anti-diarrheal such as Imodium can come in handy. If you’re lazy like me, African Sporting Creations is a good source for ready-to-go first aid kits.

As hunters we probably focus too much on incidents with dangerous animals. They do occur, but more mundane incidents such as vehicle accidents and unexpected illness are far more common.

The silliest thing I ever did was once in Namibia. Looking at the ground for tracks when I should have been looking up, I caught a thorn in my lower eyelid. Facial cuts always bleed profusely, but I must have hit an artery because I couldn’t get it stopped. Yep, we Super-Glued it, worked like a charm!

So, let’s get on to the really bad stuff we all worry about. Fortunately, catastrophic incidents are rare. They can’t necessarily be avoided, but the best way I know to mitigate them is to carry a medical evacuation membership. Today I have Global Rescue, so I carry a Global Rescue card. But here’s the thing: It’s important to understand how the card should be used. No matter the company, if you have a head cold or get mad at your outfitter, you are not eligible for evacuation. There are exceptions, but typically if you have a problem, you get to a local care facility, and that’s when your medical evac folks get into gear. However, some providers offer field rescue service that will actually deploy help right to your location in the field if warranted.

Maybe they bring you home or maybe to a care facility in South Africa or Europe and then, when things are a bit better, they bring you home. But here’s the big thing: How do they know what action to recommend unless you contact them? So this a three-part deal: First, you have your membership card. Second, you have communications (like a sat phone). Third, you have the common sense and will to use them.

This last is where I personally failed. I like to say that I had my heart attack on a mountain in Uganda, but actually it was a wimpy little ridge. On a very hot morning we tracked a buffalo to the top, and I was oddly out of breath. Eventually we shot the bull, and I was doing high-fives with the game scout when the world started to spin and I went out cold. They fanned me and poured water on me, and after a bit I crawled to the buffalo and we did photos and TV.

Here’s where the stupid part starts. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I had the tools in my daypack: My medevac card and a satellite phone. I should have called immediately, and perhaps a real doctor could have made a proper diagnosis and got me on the road to help. Instead, tougher than common sense dictates, I waved it off. I didn’t make the call. The International Hospital in Kampala missed it, giving me a bag of antibiotics for a pulmonary infection. The commercial flight home was horrible. By the time I landed I couldn’t breathe, and Donna took one look at me and said, “You’ve had a heart attack.” It took the folks at French Hospital ninety seconds to confirm that diagnosis. Privately, they told Donna I wouldn’t have lived through the night. I lived, but the drama was unnecessary. I had the card, and I had the sat phone. A consultation could not have averted the incident, but would have gotten me to proper care sooner, and home in much better shape.

Three things: Medical evacuation membership; well-charged satellite phone, maybe with an extra battery; and the common sense to use them. You don’t need to own a sat phone; you can rent one. My go-to is Explorer Satellites; they rent phones (with minutes) for reasonable rates, and they can recommend the correct system for your destination. Iridium has long been the standard, but Inmarsat is better in the Southern Hemisphere (i.e. southern Africa, Australia, South America). Few of us need multiple systems, so it’s probably better to rent and let experts guide you.

Part of the deal with all reputable medical evacuation providers is round-the-clock consultation with a doctor. This is smart business because evacuation may not be required, but if it is the wheels can be set into motion via satellite phone.

I didn’t expect to have a heart attack. Nor did Angie Heister, walking down a trail in Zimbabwe, accompanying her husband on safari, expect to be flattened and gored by a Cape buffalo. The difference: They not only had their medical evacuation cards, they had enough sense to use them. The outfitter’s preparedness got her to Victoria Falls by helicopter, but with her lungs collapsed, a huge wound in her thigh, and serious spinal injuries. Weeks passed before she could be moved back to the United States. Just remember that Mr. Murphy awaits the unwary and unprepared, and that bad things, however unlikely, can happen to good people.

Lastly, let’s also remember that bad things happen to good trips planned by good people. Hey, traveling is what I do as a major part of my business. I take my chances. There are, however, uncertainties in many part of the world, so in recent years, personally and when giving seminars, I have advised folks to take out “travel insurance,” but I’ve rarely followed my own advice.

Recently, much to my chagrin, I learned that “travel insurance” is not the right term for what is needed. In April 2016 I was headed to Armenia, an out-of-the-way Asian destination. In previous years I’d been burned on plane tickets to Iran, only to find I could not get a visa. So, this time, Donna bought travel insurance from Allianz Global Assistance, recommended by the airline. Three days before the hunt, Armenia and neighboring Azerbaijan started a little border war. Figuring it was sort of like a shrew attacking a mouse, I was all for ignoring it until they told me that the reserve we were headed to was under artillery fire, and we would be hunting within observation of enemy snipers. Carrying a rifle? Not a good idea! So the cancellation was unavoidable, but I was content that the non-refundable plane tickets were covered.

Turns out, when I read the fine print, they were not covered. Travel insurance might cover you in case of traditional issues such as death in the family or medical emergency, and these things can happen to hunters, but we also deal with destinations where other serious stuff happens. Last week two buddies of mine were headed to the Central African Republic. The day before departure their outfitter was attacked by supposed rebels. He and his client managed to escape, with their vehicle shot up and tires shot out, but no injuries.

I recommended the hunt, but also knowing C.A.R. has been dicey for years, I recommended the hunters get travel insurance. Wrong words! What you need, instead, is “travel cancellation insurance,” and make sure it’s good. Global Rescue, for example, offers “CFAR” (Cancel For Any Reason) coverage. That’s the type of insurance I should have had, and that’s what my C.A.R.-bound buddies needed.

Always read the fine print and ask specific questions. There is a story of a guy in Zimbabwe who, while standing on the edge of a draw waiting to hear the death bellow of a buffalo, somehow managed to shoot half his foot off with a large-caliber double rifle.

Horrible, but it got worse. He had a temporary membership to a medical evacuation service. He had called the company to activate the membership; he gave them his departure, and they gave him a start date. But when he needed help badly, coverage was denied because his membership was required to start twenty-four hours before departure. The fact that their office gave him the start date didn’t matter; they refused evacuation. Obviously Mr. Murphy was right there beside this unfortunate gentleman, and it was clearly not his fault because he was misled, but it’s important to always read the fine print. It’s a small but critical issue in the art of being prepared.

Helicopters save countless lives because of their speed and agility. Regrettably they aren’t available everywhere we crazy hunters go, but in a real time-sensitive emergency a chopper is the usually the best option to get to help.

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The .300 Winchester Magnum is versatile, effective, and widely available.

The 7mm Remington Magnum was introduced in 1962, the .300 Winchester Magnum a year later, in 1963. Remington’s Big Seven took off like a rocket, and for many years was the world’s most popular cartridge to wear the “magnum” suffix. The .300 Winchester Magnum was slower to catch on. There were reasons for this. Cartridge design theory has it that a cartridge case needs a “full caliber neck” to properly grip the bullet. This means a .30-caliber cartridge should have a neck of at least .308-inch. In order to cram as much powder space as possible into a case that would fit into a .30-06-length action, Winchester’s engineers gave it a 2.620-inch case, longer than the 2.494-inch case of the .30-06, but with a short neck of just .264-inch.

Purists suggested that dog would never hunt, but there was more. The .300 Winchester Magnum was designed to replace the long-beloved .300 H&H, then the world-standard fast .30-caliber. Just a year later the even more beloved pre-1964 Model 70 was replaced by the post-1964 Model 70, and Winchester’s new .300 was stranded in an unpopular platform.

Left to right, .300 H&H, .300 Winchester Magnum, .300 Weatherby Magnum, .300 Remington Ultra Magnum. These four are the fast .30s Boddington has the most experience with. All have their attributes, but the .300 Winchester Magnum is the most popular and most available, and today the velocity gap has narrowed between it and the longer-cased, faster cartridges.

I like the 7mm Remington Magnum, and I’ve taken a lot of game with it over the years; it’s effective, accurate, and has little recoil. However, at heart I’m a fast .30 guy. I had a .300 Winchester Magnum back in the 1970s, a great piece of walnut surrounding a Mark X Mauser action. I never hunted with that rifle before it was lost in a burglary. In the rebuild I got a left-handed Weatherby Mark V in .300 Weatherby Magnum, and I’ve been a fan of Weatherby’s .300 ever since.

Mind you, I’ve dabbled with most of the fast .30s. In the early and mid-2000s I spent a lot of time with the .300 Remington Ultra Mag, a great cartridge. I’m a recent fan of the .300 H&H; with handloads it’s amazing what this old cartridge will do, and that long, tapered case feeds like a dream. In 2010 I took a Blaser R8 in .300 Blaser Magnum to Nepal. It was impressive, but when it became apparent that the Blaser unbelted magnums weren’t going to be marketed in America, I traded that barrel for, you guessed it, a .300 Weatherby Magnum barrel.

In 1989 and again in 2007, for my Safari Rifles and Safari Rifles II books, I did surveys of all the African professional hunters I could reach, both times receiving more than a hundred responses. Certain differences in these surveys were interesting. In 1989, under the heading of “recommendations for medium plains game” the .30-06 was the favorite (thirty-three mentions), followed by the 7mm Remington Magnum (twenty-five) and the .300 H&H (twenty-two). The .300 Winchester Magnum was barely there with just five mentions. Fast-forward eighteen years. In 2007 the 7mm Remington Magnum nearly dropped off the survey, as did the .300 H&H. The .30-06 remained strong, but in appropriate game categories the .300 Winchester Magnum came in right behind the .30-06.

Although I’ve never been a fan, the .300 Winchester Magnum has been an inescapable cartridge. As a gunwriter I’ve used it in many rifles, and I’ve hunted with it quite a bit. Despite the short neck, as we’ve all learned, it’s a very accurate and efficient cartridge. During the Gulf Wars it’s gotten a tremendous boost. Many of our Special Operations units now use it because it’s accurate, has a lot more reach than the 7.62x51mm NATO round, and can be built into a lighter platform that doesn’t kick near as much as a .338 Lapua.

From what manufacturers tell me, this is just a small microcosm of what has happened. The 7mm Remington Magnum remains popular, but its demand is not what it once was. At the same time, the .300 Winchester Magnum has surged ahead, and is now the world’s most popular “magnum cartridge.”

When this photo was taken the barrel on the Jarrett .300 Winchester Magnum (bottom) was brand new. Accuracy with the production LAW Model 704 was very similar, and both, depending on the load, were plenty good enough for any hunting purpose. Today, after break-in, the Jarrett has a slight edge, but both are superbly accurate rifles.

So why this turnaround? Well, in part the 7mm market has been diluted. The 7mm Weatherby Magnum goes back to the 1940s, but now we have the 7mm STW and 7mm RUM, and the 7mm WSM and 7mm RSAUM do everything the 7mm Remington Magnum will do, but in short actions. But that’s not really a valid argument, because there have long been faster .30s, and now we have the .300 RUM, .30-.378 Weatherby Magnum, and a slew of faster wildcats and proprietaries.

I think, instead, the truth is finally out, and 7mm fans aren’t gonna like it. The 7mm offers a lower-recoil alternative to the .30, and this is valuable. Its heavy-for-caliber bullets are efficient and effective. But a 7mm will not do what a .30-caliber will do. Although the 7mm is awesome on the deer/sheep/goat-caribou classes of game, all of my life both western guides and African PHs have admitted that 7mms have wounded a lot of elk and large plains game. On the other hand, there isn’t much you can’t do with a 180-grain .30-caliber, and a bit more that you can do with a 200-grain .30 caliber. So I think the 7mm Remington Magnum and .300 Winchester Magnum, the world’s two most popular magnums, have flip-flopped positions based primarily on the greater versatility of the .30-caliber.

Still, the .300 Winchester Magnum is a cartridge I’ve been slow to accept. As I said, I’m a .300 Weatherby guy, although I readily concede that the unbelted .300 RUM has more case capacity and, from a case design standpoint, has more accuracy potential. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have recognized the true (and current) worth of the .300 Winchester Magnum if it hadn’t been forced on me. My friends at the new Legendary Arms Works (LAW) came on board as a sponsor of our The Boddington Experience TV series. For filming I needed a rifle with maximum versatility, and to me that’s always a fast .30-caliber. They weren’t yet chambering for .300 Weatherby or RUM so I got the next-best thing, a .300 Winchester Magnum. I’ve used it to film most of our episodes for the last two years.

A fine Eastern Cape greater kudu taken at 300 yards with the Jarrett .300 Win. Mag. No matter where you are, there are few things you can’t do with a fast .30-caliber and a good bullet.

In the same period, a couple of years ago, South Carolina riflemaking legend Kenny Jarrett convinced me that I had to have a rifle on his new receiver (which he was making in left-hand action). Of course he preferred that I get his proprietary .300 Jarrett. That’s an awesome cartridge, but non-standard cartridges complicate my life. So I pushed my default button and asked him to build me a .300 Weatherby Magnum. It was at a show, and we old shooters are all a bit deaf, so I guess he didn’t hear me. When, in due time, the rifle arrived I was horrified to see that it was a .300 Winchester Magnum.

Now, two years down the road, I’m thinking I might have been wrong all along. Accuracy is more about good barrels and good ammo than cartridge design, so we can theorize that the .300 RUM or Jarrett or WSM might be the most accurate fast .30, but well-built rifles make you question that. Over the years I’ve seen a lot of .300 Winchester Magnums that were stunningly accurate, and both of these are. You’d expect the Jarrett to be but, initially, the LAW .300 edged it out. Now that the Jarrett barrel is broken in it groups a bit better. Both rifles shoot under one MOA with almost anything, and both group well under a half-inch with loads they like.

Although it may not be as personal a statement as an oddball cartridge, there’s nothing wrong with choosing a popular cartridge. Honestly, I no longer have time to handload like I once did. Everybody loads for the .300 Winchester Magnum, so there’s a rich load selection. Both rifles really like Hornady’s 180-grain SST, but I just got in some Black Hills Gold with 180-grain AccuBond; on a too-windy day the first group out of the Jarrett was just over a half-inch. Looking good!

We can certainly say that a full-length fast .30 with a 2.85-inch case holds more powder than a 2.62-inch case, so has the potential to be faster. However, I’ve long known that my .300 Weatherby Magnums and RUMs needed a 26-inch barrel to strut their stuff.

As a primarily Western hunter I’m not bothered by long barrels but, realistically, if you aren’t getting a lot of goody out of the extra length there’s no real reason to carry it around. Not being a .300 Winchester Magnum guy, there’s something I’ve missed. The popularity of the cartridge has led to a lot of load development, and with newer propellants the velocity gap has narrowed.

In Weatherby’s ammo (loaded by Norma) the .300 Weatherby Magnum is now rated at 3,250 fps with a 180-grain bullet; the .300 RUM the same. Other loads for the .300 Weatherby Magnum are a bit slower, down in the 3,100s. The .300 Winchester Magnum has traditionally been rated at 2,960 for standard loads with a 180-grain bullet. There’s no real magic in getting a 180-grain bullet to 3,000 fps, but it sounds better, doesn’t it? That standard Black Hills Gold load I just shot delivered 3,015 fps over the chronograph. Hornady’s Superformance load with 180-grain SST is rated at 3,130 fps…but in both of these rifles (with 24-inch barrels) it actually delivers about 3,180 fps, which is knee-deep into .300 Weatherby Magnum territory.

Cartridge popularity means load development, and with newer propellants .300 Winchester Magnum velocities have been increasing. Rifles vary in velocity, but in Boddington’s rifles Hornady’s 200-grain ELD-X clocks well over 2900 fps; Black Hills Gold’s 180-grain AccuBond load exceeds 3000 fps; and Hornady’s fast Superformance 180-grain SST load is nearly 3180 fps, well into .300 Weatherby Magnum territory. Obviously factory loads will vary in accuracy, but with the .300 Winchester Magnum, there’s a wide choice.

Of course, at some point velocity is just a number; way out there, aerodynamics and bullet performance are more important. Hornady’s new Precision Hunter load with its 200-grain ELD-X bullet is thus very interesting. Construction aside, bullet weight covers a lot of sins, so for elk and African plains game I’ve often hedged my bets with 200-grain .30-caliber bullets. That Precision Hunter load is rated at 2,850 fps, on the fast side for a 200-grain bullet in the .300 Winchester Magnum. Except that’s another conservative rating: In my rifles actual velocity averages about 2,920 fps. I took the .300 Winchester Magnum to South Africa last year, where I could mess with some different loads at different ranges. I’m going to do it again this year. Mind you, I have not yet fully converted from my beloved .300 Weatherby Magnum—we go back too far—but these days, when you combine versatility, efficiency, and effect on game with availability, I have to admit it: The .300 Winchester Magnum is pretty hard to beat!

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Safaris in central and west Africa are not for everyone, but they provide great rewards for the adventurous.

The saying on the street, especially among folks who haven’t been there, is that African hunting is too easy, just a matter of driving around and shooting animals. There’s some truth to that here and there, although in all cases ethics and in many cases law precludes shooting from a vehicle. It’s also true that much African hunting is pretty cushy, certainly compared to North American standards. Usually you’re hunting from a comfortable, well-appointed camp, and African outfitters have a huge advantage that doesn’t exist in many regions: Available help! Often there’s more than is really needed, because creating employment is part and parcel to maintaining hunting areas.

The average safari in East and Southern Africa is conducted from a comfortable camp, well-supplied and ably staffed. Yes, they do laundry every day and, yes, much hunting is done by driving until actual animals or fresh tracks are spotted. Then things change. No two hunts are alike, and any hunt can turn into an all-day ordeal. Buffalo and elephant usually require serious tracking, but almost any animal can occasionally be taken just by stepping out of the truck.

No different than hunting whitetail deer or anything else, you never exactly how a hunting day is going to play out, but if you really like to work for your game, and you think Africa sounds too easy for your tastes, there’s another side to it. Think about getting off the beaten track and hunting in Central and West Africa, where currently ten countries are open to hunting, about half the continent’s total of hunting countries. Although there are broad transitional zones, there are two primary habitat types: From northern C.A.R. and Cameroon and southern Chad westward across northern Benin and Burkina Faso all the way to Senegal lies a wide belt of sub-Saharan thornbush and savanna; below that, from southern C.A.R. and Cameroon and both Congo’s westward through Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea lies the true forest zone.

Boddington and Ralf Schneider at their first “spike camp” in the Liberian forest in 2013. African camps vary a lot, but this was pretty much at the bottom of the scale!

Conditions vary considerably. In most of these countries genuine professional hunters and real outfitters have concessions, so the conditions have some relationship to African hunting elsewhere. Uniquely, some of these countries allow “chasse libre”—“free hunting”—whereby it’s possible to rent a hunting block, hire a vehicle and help, and do it yourself. In some areas it’s a bit of a blend, where you can work from established camps through an “outfitter,” but you’re actually hunting with local hunters and trackers, absent a “professional hunter” as we know the term. Regardless of the exact circumstances, this entire region has one thing in common: This is Africa’s tough stuff, “extreme Africa” if you will.

Logistics are difficult throughout this region, so camps tend to be rougher and supplies harder to come by. The weather is generally much hotter and, unlike southern Africa in the long dry season, in the forest zone rains can be expected. This is good and bad. Bad: Mobility can be severely impacted. Good: A shower brings relief from the heat and, more importantly, forest animals love to move just after a rain…and tend to hunker when it’s dry and the forest floor is noisy. (The old adage in the forest is “no rain, no bongo.”)

Species diversity tends to be less than in southern Africa, but a lot of these areas still hold lots of game. Part of the attraction, too, is some of Africa’s great prizes: Derby eland and western roan in the north; bongo and forest sitatunga in the south. Buffalo of three varieties remain widespread, and there are pockets of both lions and leopards (neither currently importable to the USA). Of great importance to long-gone African nuts, the region holds a wide variety of pygmy antelope not found elsewhere: in Ghana, the tiny royal antelope; in Liberia, a selection of little guys including zebra duiker and water chevrotain. Pigs, too; warthogs in the north, giant forest hogs in the south, and the red river hog widely distributed.

This is a western kob, one of several animals available in northern Cameroon at reduced cost–much less expensive than a Derby eland.

So there are many reasons to hunt this part of Africa beyond simply proving how tough you are. But let’s be clear: This hunting is not for everyone. Not everybody is going to like it, not everybody is in adequate condition for it, and this is not a good region for inexperienced hunters. A few examples. Just a couple of years ago, on a blistering March day in Burkina Faso we wounded a buffalo at daybreak. We eventually got it, but that morning we stayed on the track longer than we should have, and when we broke off at midday it was an honest 130 degrees. More than twenty years ago, when I was a lot younger, we took the track of a Derby eland bull just after dawn. We got the shot at eleven, but it was another imperfect shot. We stayed on the track and got him at about five o’clock, and it was a long, long way to the truck. In both cases straighter shooting would have shortened the days, but the point is this is a region with no fences, few roads, and no shortcuts.

There is also an essential knowledge base. I’m halfway through my second hunt in Liberia, which I would call a semi-guided hunt. The camp is OK and the people are great—and excellent forest hunters—but there is no hunting tradition here. It’s very hot and very humid, a deadly combination for the meat and hides, and although the guys are willing, they are unskilled in preparing skins for taxidermy. So my hunting partner, Mike Adams, and I have been spending at least a third of each day helping with and supervising the skinning, changing salt, and fussing over the skins.

Timewise, this is not a huge problem here because most of the small forest animals we’re hunting are nocturnal, so a lot of the hunting is at night. But unless you know skinning, including turning the ears and splitting the lips, and how to preserve skins in an unfavorable environment—and you’re willing to pitch in—chances are you’ll be disappointed when your taxidermist gets your skins.

Even at that, this safari is a vast improvement over my first hunt in Liberia three years ago. Then, although base camp was similarly comfortable, there was no game in proximity to camp. So we had to spike out a half-day’s journey, then sleep in hammocks or makeshift shelters, returning to base camp when we ran low on food. This year, in a new area, we can walk from camp and find game.

The do-it-yourself (chasse libre) safaris in this region are a whole different order of magnitude. I’ve avoided them for practical reasons. First, I don’t speak French, and that’s the common language of Central and West Africa. Absent reasonable fluency in French, difficulties are compounded. Second, it has seemed to me that these hunts are costly (in both time and money) in relation to success achieved. Which perhaps reveals a personal character flaw: The adventure sounds great, but I also want results!

On the other hand, Sports Afield’s Publisher, Ludo Wurfbain, is a huge fan of the chasse libre safaris, and has done a number of do-it-yourself hunts in several countries in the region. Over the years he has achieved amazing results, and has taken most of the key game in the region, but usually just a couple of animals per safari.

The region has a reputation for costly outfitted safaris, and this is absolutely true if you’re after either of the two great prizes, bongo or giant eland. Take those off the list and safari costs in C.A.R. and Cameroon go down dramatically. Move a bit farther west to Benin and Burkina Faso, and you can find the least expensive buffalo hunting on the African continent. The hunting in Liberia is so specialized that you have to be a pretty far-gone African addict to be interested, but the safaris are not expensive and government trophy fees are low.

On my first hunt in Liberia I was fortunate to share camp with another chasse libre veteran, Ralf Schneider. The Liberian hunt was actually one of his first outfitted hunts in years but, like me, he wanted a zebra duiker and a water chevrotain. Like me, he got neither, but persistence sometime pays. Hunting with the same outfitter, Morris Dougba’s Liberia Forest Safaris, I shot a water chevrotain and a zebra duiker on my current safari. But here’s the point: Ralf is an expert in this weird region of Africa, and I learned a lot from him. I knew to bring essentials like a hammock to sleep in (off the ground and away from creepy-crawlies), water purification tablets, headlamps, and good skinning knives. I also knew to bring niceties like a battery-powered fan, electrolyte mixes, and some goodies just in case. Ralf brought preparation to a new level. His “emergency safari kit,” sealed in a waterproof five-gallon bucket, was a treasure trove: backpack stove, raingear, bivy sack, tea and coffee, Top Ramen, and maybe even a wee nip of something. He could survive for weeks just out of his bucket!

I paid attention. On this hunt I haven’t needed the hammock, water purification tablets, or the freeze-dried emergency rations I added to my kit, at least not yet. But we’ve used most everything else! We’ve also sweated a lot and put up with some frustrations. But the skins on the drying rack tell the tale. The forest has been good to us!

For extreme African hunting it’s important to pack very carefully, and include some items you may not have thought about. Clockwise from top: A good first aid kit (this one from African Sporting Creations); multi-tool; gloves (against bugs or thorns? You never know!); an array of lights, for both night-hunting and functioning safely in the dark . . . these are the Spanish-made LEDWave lights; silverware and water purification tablets; a battery-operated fan (with lots of batteries), an incredible blessing in tropical climates; and a satellite phone, essential for emergencies and easily rented with plenty of minutes.

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Over the course of sixty years, safaris have undergone a radical transformation.

Story and photos by Harry SelbyOver many years, the word “safari”–that magical word which brings to mind high adventure in the wilds of Africa, immortalized by Theodore Roosevelt, Martin and Osa Johnson, Ernest Hemingway, and Robert Ruark–has become synonymous with a hunting/photographic expedition involving sportsmen and women from across the world.

A safari in the earliest days of East Africa, prior to the outbreak of World War I, was known as a “foot safari.” It would consist of a group of a hundred or more people, including a number of visiting hunters, one or more professional hunters, local gunbearers, cooks, and skinners, but the majority would be porters who carried loads made up of tents, camping equipment, and food for the entire group. Everyone walked, as horses and donkeys would not survive due to the dreaded disease-carrying tsetse fly infesting most of the hunting areas.

The origin of the safaris I will discuss in this article, however, coincided with the use of motor vehicles on safari sometime in the 1920s. These safaris typically numbered from twelve to twenty people, and they were completely self-sufficient, willing and able to cope with whatever situation might crop up. The professional hunter and his clients rode in a hunting car and a baggage truck followed, carrying everything required to set up camp wherever one chose–staff, fuel, foodstuffs, tentage, medical chest, camping furniture, cooking utensils, and china tableware; later, even refrigerators were provided.

Safari vehicles on the move in Masailand in the 1940s.

The professional hunter was truly the “captain of the ship” and the success of the entire safari, its well-being, and even the lives of the group depended on his decisions. A competent professional hunter was of necessity knowledgeable and a pleasant companion, at times a diplomat, a doctor, and a mechanic; hunting was second nature to him. Furthermore, he required a sound knowledge of the country and the local people, leadership qualities, self-reliance, and the ability to handle a difficult situation, especially when the clients were often men controlling huge business empires and who were used to giving the orders, not taking them.

When a safari left Nairobi for perhaps one or two months in the field, there was no easy way to contact the Nairobi office even in an emergency. If an accident should occur, or a member of the party became ill, recovery would follow in time. If the situation was very serious, one of the small single-engine aircraft stationed in Nairobi would need to be summoned, and even that in itself was no simple matter as in the remote centers where there might be a phone, which sometimes worked, long delays of many hours could be expected. In many cases, a makeshift landing strip would have to be cleared, and then dragged with a large bush attached to the hunting vehicle in order to smooth it sufficiently for an aircraft to land.

For urgent incoming messages, safaris relied on an arrangement with the local Nairobi broadcasting station that after the nine o’clock evening news an urgent message could be transmitted to a safari in the field. An announcement prior to the news broadcast advised that there would be a message for a certain group or individual, resulting in a very tense twenty minutes of news while the group waited for the message, which usually was not good, and then the frustration of being unable to reply to it.

During the late 1950s and early 1960s, two-way HF radios became available and made a tremendous difference to the isolated safari in the field; in fact, their arrival on the scene could be considered one of the two fundamental landmarks in the history of safari, together with the advent of the four-wheel-drive vehicle.

Mobile Safari

As all traveling was by vehicle, it could take three days of hard driving to reach the intended hunting grounds in southern Tanganyika (now Tanzania), Western Uganda, or the Southern Sudan from Nairobi, but it would be interesting, seeing colorful people from various tribes such as the Masai, Samburu, and the Dinka; extinct volcanoes; snow-capped mountains; beautiful lakes; forests of huge baobabs; and historical sites such as the compound shared by Livingstone and Stanley near Tabora. If the route should cross the Serengeti after skirting the rim of wildlife-rich Ngorongoro Crater, one would see, if the annual migration was in full swing, unbelievable numbers of wildebeest, zebra, antelopes of various species, and gazelles on the move, followed by prides of lions and other predators.

On long trips, the hunting party would bivouac beside the road in order to get going again early the next morning, and, amazingly, a very acceptable meal would be forthcoming from the cook within a couple of hours of having halted for the night. There would be a breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee the following morning, before the safari got under way again.

The safari staff usually rode atop the loaded baggage truck.

Eventually, on reaching the hunting area, the camp would be erected by experienced hands and made habitable in a matter of hours. In this way, it was possible to move very freely and rapidly from area to area, especially as there were no concessions in existence, or blocks to be booked, and quotas were unheard of. Hunting was lawful anywhere so long as the area was not a game reserve, national park, or private land. If the safari moved into an area and found it was disappointing, it pulled up stakes and moved on.

The number of animals allowed on each hunter’s license was overly generous, having been formulated at a time when the early foot safari would require meat for eighty to 100 people over several months. For example: twelve buffalo, twenty zebra, twenty wildebeest, twenty kongoni, four lions, unlimited leopards, and equally generous numbers of all other species. Elephant and rhino required a special license even then, as the elephant ivory and rhino horn could be sold.

The complacent colonial government controlled from London took a long time to initiate a reappraisal of the entire licensing system, and that didn’t happen until some years after World War II. It often required tact and a firm hand on the part of the professional hunter to prevent abuse by trigger-happy individuals.

In those early days, the time factor was not as important as it is today. Safaris often lasted for two months or possibly three. I would estimate that a third of the entire safari would be spent traveling from one hunting area to another, and many hours would be spent getting the heavily laden vehicles freed from the clutches of either tenacious mud or heavy sand.

Remember, too, that safaris did not have four-wheel-drive vehicles, so a lot of hunting was done on foot, which took time and was hard work. It was generally agreed that 100 miles, plus or minus, would be walked for every elephant taken with tusks of 90 pounds or more. I remember spending a whole week at Kondoa Irangi in Tanganyika clambering up and down steep, rocky hills until a kudu was finally bagged.

In those days, more emphasis was placed on the entire safari experience–photography and bird shooting, for instance–rather than just the collecting of trophies. Naturally, clients expected to get good trophies. It was the collecting of them that provided the thrill, and a fine trophy was the reward for a memorable hunt. Today, the burning question as soon as a trophy is bagged often is: “Will it qualify for the record book?”—sadly, sometimes, irrespective of how it was hunted.

As hunting pressure increased in the most accessible areas, some pioneering and resourceful professional hunters cut tracks or built makeshift bridges to get into virgin country and escape the ever-increasing number of safaris entering the field. There were occasions when an entire day might be spent manhandling the two-wheel-drive safari vehicles over a soft sand riverbed. Several days might be spent erecting a makeshift bridge.

If a previously used river crossing had become too deep to ford with a hunting vehicle, and you needed to hunt the opposite side, you simply removed everything from the vehicle, including tools and spares, disconnected the battery, drained all oil and fuel, and then, using the heavy rope every safari carried, your crew, possibly assisted by locals, pulled the vehicle through the river, sometimes completely submerged.

After a night to dry out with the drain plugs removed, the oil and fuel were refilled, the battery reconnected, and the hunt continued. The hunters would cross the river morning and evening between camp and hunting car by dugout canoe or wading; the hunting car stayed on the other side of the river until the safari was ready to leave that area, at which time it was pulled it back through the river again.

Miracle Workers

The professional hunter was, at times, called upon to perform near-miracles mechanically and medically, as a few incidents that took place on my safaris will illustrate. I remember one cold, windy night on the Serengeti at one o’clock in the morning, soldering the leaking radiator of the baggage truck carrying the camp equipment. I heated the soldering iron in a fire made of wildebeest dung, as there was no wood. Our supper had been prepared the same way.

One evening at Ikoma, after traveling for three days from Nairobi, one of the skinners was bitten by a snake as he opened up his bedroll. He became hysterical, so I had him rushed to the mess tent, where the only bright light on the safari was kept, to examine the bite. I found two fang punctures, indicating a bite from a venomous snake. I proceeded to administer the antivenin shots to the protesting man, oblivious to the fact that four wide-eyed clients were watching the whole performance. Next morning he was sore, but OK; either the antivenin had done its job or he had received a “dry” bite, as I understand sometimes happens.

On one safari, we were camped south of Ngorongoro in the vicinity of Lake Eyasi in Tanganyika. Our camp was situated a couple of hundred yards from a steep-sided donga (ditch), at the bottom of which flowed a small stream. When we drove into camp about midday after one morning’s hunt, Juma, my headman, informed me that the truck was in trouble at the river.

It transpired that the truck had been driven there with two of the staff in order to fill the water drums on the back. The driver walked back to camp. When the drums were filled, the men called to the driver to retrieve the truck. He was a bit slow, and a young lad, the cook’s helper, climbed into the cab and while fiddling with the controls, pressed the starter button.

The truck was parked in reverse gear, and unfortunately the engine fired instantly and the truck rolled backward over the bank into the stream, winding up with all wheels in the air. That was what met my horrified gaze when I walked to the spot. We were miles from nowhere, and there was no radio in camp in those days.

The safari truck overturned in the riverbed, miles from nowhere.

We had to fend for ourselves, so for the next day or two while we were hunting, the camp staff busied themselves digging one bank down sufficiently to allow the truck to be hauled up.

When this was completed, we attached the big rope to the far side of the truck and to the rear of my hunting car on the opposite bank. When all was ready the hunting car, assisted by our crew and a number of friendly locals to whom we had given meat, hauled on the rope and, fortunately, we were able to turn the truck back on its wheels, and finally pull it up the bank.

I will never forget one unfortunate safari: Shortly after we had crossed into Tanganyika from Kenya, the baggage truck did not arrive when I stopped for it to catch up. I had a foreboding that all was not well, and a couple of miles back I found it lying on its side, having rolled over after having gone into a skid aggravated by the shifting weight of the men perched on top of the load.

As I drove up, Juma came forward, and in reply to my question, “Is anyone dead?” he replied, “Only one.”

Two other men were badly injured, and after getting the truck back on its wheels I instructed Juma to pitch a tent beside the road for the clients. I then took the two injured men and the corpse back into Kenya in the hunting car. The injured men I left at the reasonably sophisticated hospital in Narok, in Masailand, as traveling was very painful for them. I phoned Nairobi telling them what had happened and asked that replacements be on hand. I then carried on to Nairobi with the body of the unfortunate skinner.

When I returned to the safari, we hastily packed up and carried on across the Serengeti to Banagi, where we bivouacked. I had been without sleep for sixty hours.

Changing Times

During the 1950s, hunting areas in Kenya came under increasing pressure as more clients decided to hunt in Africa and more “occasional” hunters took up professional hunting, some with limited experience. The Game Department tried to lessen the pressure on the game populations, especially the Big Five, by allowing the taking of only one of the Big Five per week of safari. Should a hunter want licenses to hunt all five, the safari must last at least five weeks. This measure helped to some extent, as with the advent of the four-wheel-drive vehicle, hunting became easier as remote areas became more accessible and some clients tried to collect huge bags in the shortest possible time.

During the late 1950s, the “block” system was introduced in Kenya: the country was divided into numbered blocks. It was necessary to reserve the chosen block sometimes months in advance, with no idea of what would be found there when the safari finally arrived. If the game situation was really disappointing, the safari had to wait until its next block booking became available before moving on.

Other changes were making themselves felt as well. East Africa was in a state of political flux; Kenya had experienced six or seven years of the Mau Mau insurrection, and independence from Britain was the goal of all three East African territories–Kenya, Tanganyika, and Uganda, and independence was being actively negotiated by their representatives with the British government. No one had any idea what a post-independence East Africa would be like, especially after the Congo debacle.

In the early 1960s, I moved with my family to Bechuanaland (now Botswana) and opened a branch of Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris there. Our company was granted two very large tracts of land known as “concessions” in which to conduct hunting safaris. One was adjacent to the Okavango Delta, and the other was in the northern Kalahari.

The distances between camps in these concessions was not great, and I soon realized that a more efficient method of operation would be to have static camps, fully staffed, at strategic locations. The clients, together with the hunter and hunting vehicle, would move from one camp to another, thus reducing overhead by literally halving the staff that had been required to pitch and break camps during the days of the mobile safari.

One supply vehicle would do the supply rounds periodically, thus eliminating the situation where a truck remained idle for long periods in each camp. This arrangement worked very well, and in fact it had been in operation in Mozambique and Angola for some time, before politically motivated insurgencies erupted there.

Due to a number of factors, the traditional mobile safari was gradually on its way out in the East African countries where it had originated. Border controls on individuals, vehicles, equipment, and firearms, and the transfer of funds between newly independent states became a problem. Safaris did continue to flourish in Kenya for some years after independence in 1963, often ranging as far north as the Sudan, until, unexpectedly, the Kenya government closed all hunting in 1977. Safaris already in the field were summoned back to Nairobi, and hunting has remained closed there ever since, effectively putting an end to the “classic East African safari.”

Harry Selby with his safari crew and several clients in Kenya in 1950.

After independence in 1961, Tanzania, previously Tanganyika, created a state-owned and controlled safari organization which prohibited private safari companies from conducting safaris. The venture was not a success.

For some years, Botswana was one of the very few countries in Africa where no independence struggle was taking place. Rhodesia, Angola, Mozambique, and South-West Africa were all coping with bush wars. Eventually, as the political and security situation improved in those countries, and South Africa joined the ranks of countries offering hunting safaris, the “static camp” became the only way to go
When privately owned safari companies were allowed to resume operations in Tanzania after the disastrous attempt to establish a state-controlled organization, a similar system of static camps was employed there, except that a hunting car remained in each camp and aircraft were used to transfer clients and their hunter from one camp to another.

To establish a static camp, it was necessary to have an exclusive lease on the area, so concessions or some form of lease on specific blocks became the norm in most countries where the land was government-owned. In some countries, large privately owned ranches became “game farms” where the emphasis was on breeding game animals rather than domestic stock. Static hunting camps were established on these ranches to accommodate visiting hunters.

Initially, these static camps consisted of the standard safari tents with a flush toilet and shower enclosure attached to the rear. Semi-permanent structures were provided for the mess and the kitchen, which was equipped with the necessary furniture and a gas stove.

As time progressed, the camps in some countries became more sophisticated being erected on wooden decks, with regular furniture and in many cases electric power for lighting, ice making, and refrigeration. VHF radio contact with base became standard in all camps and in many of them a satellite phone is provided. Today, some clients bring their own satellite phones, and many camps are within easy reach of airfields and helicopters are available on call should an emergency occur.

Moving clients over short distances is usually accomplished by vehicle, but where long distances are involved, aircraft are used. This cuts traveling time considerably, resulting in significant savings to the client and allows for more time to be spent hunting, making it possible for hunters who previously had been unable to spare both the time and the money to undertake an African safari to do so. Now most safaris are between ten and twenty days long.

Air travel today is so available and quick that within a couple of days of leaving home, the clients are in the hunting camp, and as they have possibly read all about safaris or been to one or more conventions, they arrive with their wish list in one hand and, possibly, the record book in the other, ready to begin hunting.

The hunting will be intensive because of the short time available, and any mishap such as the hunting vehicle getting badly bogged down or malfunctioning might be regarded by the clients as time wasted. In some cases they might even expect a refund.

The professional hunter will be under considerable pressure to “produce”—and, greatly to the credit of the present-day PHs, successful hunts and very fine trophies are being brought in.

The clients, unless camped in tribal areas, will see very little of Africa or its people, other than a few hanging around the airport where they landed before leaving by vehicle or aircraft on the way to the camp.

I realize that the only way game will survive in Africa is to pay very handsomely for its existence, and the only way that can be achieved is by bringing in more hunters, photographers, and general tourists, all attracted by Africa’s magnificent wildlife, all bringing money into the country, thus demonstrating to the local people that the wildlife is more valuable on the hoof than in their bellies. To achieve that situation, permanent camps and air transport are essential to make it affordable, both in time and cost.

It was inevitable that “safari” had to change, and it will continue to change in order to exist. Africa itself has changed out of all recognition both physically and politically, and the old-time self-contained safari would have no place to go in today’s Africa. There are hunters today who would prefer to have experienced the sense of freedom of an old-time safari, as I am sure there were those who went on safari many years ago who would have preferred something along the lines of what is offered today. The two experiences are as different as night is from day; the only feature common to both is the name. . . that magical word, “safari.”

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