The Bergzicht team poses with my waterbuck.

By Aleen Kienholz

In October 2020, I was signed up for a photo safari to Kenya and Tanzania and then a follow-up hunt back at Bergzicht Game Lodge in Namibia. The Covid pandemic nixed my travel plans along with those of thousands of others, and worldwide air travel nearly ground to a halt. We managed a salmon and halibut fishing trip to Elfin Cove, Alaska that June, but masks and Covid tests were an integral part of it, and the lodge was running at less than 20% capacity. We took photos of king salmon wearing the ubiquitous blue masks.

Covid protocols were still in effect when I finally flew back to Namibia in late August 2021, but it was more of an annoyance than a danger. Frankfurt airport was very quiet and the lounges and most of the shops were closed. When I got back “home” to Bergzicht, PH Steph Joubert was up north with Italian clients. The father had already taken the Big Five and was hunting hippo and crocodile to complete the Deadly Seven, so owner and PH Hannes Du Plessis was my hunting and photography guide.

I had a prioritized list of species that I wanted to take, but anyone who has spent much time hunting knows that a plan is merely an outline and is not written in stone. We started out looking for a nice gemsbok for a rug and a skull mount. If you read my previous article titled If Only We Had More Wall Space, you could correctly assume that we had nowhere in the whole house to put a shoulder mount. Ah, and the gemsbok were skittish and consistently vacated an area before we could even think about trying a stalk in mostly open country.

Hannes stopped so that I could photograph an old warthog. He just stood there, so I took him as my first trophy of the trip. One of the effects of a bad drought between my first hunt here in 2018 and this one was that warthog numbers were way down. Efforts to control black-backed jackal numbers had enhanced the nesting success of ostrich, and their numbers were way up. No matter what we do, both action and inaction have consequences, but I love learning more about ecological interactions.

My time at Bergzicht was limited, and I did not want to take up too much of it in pursuit of gemsbok, so the second morning we set out for the number two priority on my wish list: a nice representative waterbuck. Along the way, an old blue wildebeest with interesting horns posed for us. I asked the trackers if he was a good one and they replied in the affirmative, so I set down the camera and picked up the rifle. He bolted before I could set up for a shot. Smart old boy. He soon disappeared into the heavy brush. The trackers set out to follow him, keeping in touch by radio, and Hannes and I moved to what might work as an intercept position. It didn’t work.

Eventually we found a small group of brindled gnus in more open country, and Hannes coached me on which one to shoot. The photo brown lenses in my glasses were so dark from the sun that I was having trouble with the sight picture through the scope. I did not make as good a shot as I normally would, and he ran off with the right leg broken close to the body. That rattled me and more shots were required, but eventually, the old boy was ours. I was astounded to learn that it was the very same animal that we had started out tracking a long way back. Those guys are amazing. The bull’s face was full of battle scars and his incisors were well worn. He eventually made a beautiful rug, and his painted skull hangs in our stairwell. A gemsbok was now OFF my hunting wish list.

The Italians had early success and were now back at the lodge. They would continue to hunt with Steph. On the third morning, Hannes and I again headed out in search of waterbuck. We had not driven very far into their preferred habitat before I saw a beautiful bull standing broadside to us. We set up quickly, and I got him in my sights, but I took those dark glasses off first. A gentle squeeze on the trigger, and he dropped in his tracks. Hannes approached him carefully with rifle in hand to make sure that he was dead, always respectful of those wicked horns. He was not terribly old, but was one of the best specimens ever taken on the property. 

Hannes approached him carefully with rifle in hand to make sure that he was dead, always respectful of those wicked horns. He was not terribly old, but was one of the best specimens ever taken on the property. Even though I had NO idea where I could put him, he was prepped for a shoulder mount. I am not fond of the customary tradition of posing with the quarry, but they use some photos for advertising, and I am happy to help with that. I prefer to photograph that experienced team of PH and trackers with the trophy animal. They do so much to make these hunts successful.

That afternoon we hunted on a different portion of the property and I was equally lucky to connect with a lovely black impala. He was all by himself and had worn horn tips. If he ever HAD been a harem master, his chances of ever breeding again were very low. He was past his prime, but he was so beautiful. He would also be a shoulder mount. I spent the balance of the afternoon with Steph and the Italians in pursuit of a waterbuck for the son. Along the way, I got great photos of zebra, giraffe, eland and kudu. I was having a wonderful time. We also checked a bait and trail camera that had been set up to lure in brown hyena. Both a leopard and a hyena were caught on camera well after sundown, dining individually on a kudu haunch. A blind was built nearby for the father’s evening hunt for the hyena. (That was successful, but that is the Italian’s story, not mine.)

The next morning Hannes and I were looking for red hartebeest. We approached one herd and then another, but they were as skittish as the gemsbok had been. The tracker again did a phenomenal job of discerning the hartebeest tracks from all the other hoof prints in dry soil. We would see them and then lose them, see them again and then lose them again. They finally settled down once they got behind a screen of trees over 200 yards away, but they were not relaxed enough to resume grazing. We waited. I had the scope positioned with a nice view of the edge of the trees. Again, Hannes had his binoculars on the herd and was advising me of their movements. When a lone bull stepped into view, I held over the vitals and pulled the trigger. Again, the animal dropped in his tracks. Like my wildebeest, this fellow had a somewhat funky set of horns. I am normally drawn to symmetry, but I really liked that old bull.

I photographed this sable bull again in 2024, and though his horns were then shorter, he was still impressive.

Now the only thing left in my hunting Bucket List for this trip was a springbok, preferably a copper. On the drive the next morning to another part of the property, we found ourselves paralleling a lovely quartet of gemsbok bulls well within shooting range. I just started to laugh. Of course, they were available when I was no longer hunting them! I am a strong believer in the vagaries of Murphy’s Law. Hannes stopped so that I could start taking photos, and all four bulls crossed right in front of us, one at a time, and then stood and watched us from light cover. One of my very favorite photos from the trip has one bull caught in the phase of his elongated trot where all four feet are off the ground.

As I had before, I planned to make all of my edited photos available for their advertising needs, be it their website or Facebook. I had asked Hannes’s daughter, Marie Louise, which animal she would must like me to photograph. Blesbok. That is usually easier said than done. When we found a small group that offered a few quick photos, I took advantage of them. Then Hannes noticed a lone copper ram standing broadside ahead of us. I again set down the camera and picked up the rifle. I had to shoot through a screen of grass, but the hit was fatal and the little antelope did not go far. I knew that we could find space on the walls for a shoulder mount that size. It was a warm day, so we took him back to the skinning shed and relaxed over a nice lunch and a glass of wine.

That afternoon they dropped off a tracker, me and my camera in a storage building overlooking a waterhole and feeding troughs. It took very little time before the area wildlife filtered back in to eat and drink. First it was the nyala, more of them than I had ever seen before. Then it was the tsessebe. The biggest shock was when herd of sable came in together. There must have been five dozen of them, everything from the year’s calves to young bulls and old veterans. The horns of the herd bull were so long that he had worn marks both through his mane and across his shoulders. Wow. I have made many trips to Yellowstone National Park for photography, but I told Hannes that those few hours sitting by an open window exceeded all of those experiences for productivity. I took over 300 photos and had more work to do, editing them on my laptop computer.

I spend far more time looking through the camera lens than the rifle scope, but both count as “hunting” to me.

This gemsbok bull was momentarily suspended above the road.

My funky red hartebeest made me smile.

Getting back home again required another Covid test clearance, and airports were still rather quiet. I did not book another hunt right then, but I went back to Bergzicht again in March 2024 so that I could photograph a lot of antelope babies, both on the hunting property and up at Mount Etjo Safari Lodge. Steph helped me to check off all six species on my hunting list for that trip, and I got so many photos that I had to create TWO photo books, one for each lodge. I cannot speak Afrikaans of course, but Google Translate is a helpful tool. The cover of my 2021 photo book says, Ek is lief vir Afrika. Dit besit deel van my siel…or “I love Africa. It possesses part of my soul.” And it always will.

A black wildebeest was my first plains game trophy.

I am strolling down Memory Lane again with a smile on my face. My six trophies just arrived this morning from my third hunting trip to Bergzicht Game Lodge in Namibia. Every year our house looks more and more like a hunting lodge. We like it that way. It has been a very gradual process. Our wall space and floor space are now so limited that we need to be creative on what we take down, what we put up, and how it is arranged. But let me back up a few decades.

I did not grow up in Africa, but it has always called to me. I still watch every BBC and National Geographic special on its lands, people and wildlife. It never grows old. I read Robert Ruark’s Horn of the Hunter before I even became a hunter. My Dad taught me to shoot as a young teen, but I became a huntress in the company of my husband and our friends when we were in college in the early 70s. For decades we hunted white-tailed and mule deer in several states for meat but not for trophies. One of our adages back then was, “you can’t eat antlers”.

We both got degrees in biology, and Ron was a self-employed professional taxidermist for over thirty years. Other people’s hunting trophies were therefore part of our income stream, but we did not personally engage in that aspect of hunting. Until we retired and moved to Montana in 2001, we did not even consider making trophy hunting for anything a priority in our lives. There were too many other things to see and do and places to go. Africa never called to Ron. He frequently said that if he could not go to Africa as it was in 1950, he wasn’t interested. Science Fiction time travel aside, that outlook made no sense to me. So, I went on my own. I took out a loan and did a photo safari in Kenya in 1992. That was well before digital cameras and smart phones, when the World Wide Web and personal computers were still technological babies.

By the time that I went on my second African photo safari to Zambia in 2014, I was at least in the digital age, and the experience was magical. So yes, wildlife photography also preceded trophy hunting. But I am inching closer to that transition.

We had our first trophy hunt in Austria in 2017. In May 2018, a couple of long-time bird- and deer- hunting friends were making a return trip to Bergzicht Game Lodge, and I tagged along with my old Nikon camera and my new 150-600 mm lens. I had no plan to hunt for anything. One of my friends was only after jackal and baboon on this trip, so I rode with the other fellow who had a longer list of desired plains game. On a hunting trip, a mere photographer accedes to the agenda of the hunter in the vehicle. That was OK too, but I saw so many things that I wanted to stop and photograph! One day I borrowed my friend’s rifle to shoot a red hartebeest that was causing problems by fighting through a fence with another bull. He was in a buffer strip between the hunting lands and the neighboring property that ran cattle. PH Steph Joubert put the range finder on him when he stopped running from us, and he was standing broadside about 300 yards away. Although we had all been instructed to hold in line with the front leg, I had hunted for over forty years holding just behind the front leg, and I defaulted to that automatically. It was OK. I took out both lungs and the cull animal died quickly. Steph and the tracker were both impressed with the shot. Now I had the itch to pull the trigger on trophies of my own. Years ago, I saw a quote about how everything in Africa bites, but the worst of all was the Safari Bug. It’s true. That is how it happened to me. I was still taking photos at every opportunity, but I also set my sights on shooting a black wildebeest and a nyala.

I know that many hunters go on and on about the make and caliber of their rifles and the particulars of the loads that they shoot, but to me a rifle is a tool. You just need the right one for the job, and the skill, judgment and patience to use it accurately. I have one rifle at home, a Browning .270 that was a gift from my father. I did not bring a rifle to Namibia, so on the sensibly obligatory trip to the rifle range, I was shooting a borrowed gun. I cannot even tell you what it was. I can only say that it was easy to use and did the job. It was time to hunt.

When we reached an open area with many black wildebeest in view, we left the vehicle behind and started walking single file through the short, dry grass. Steph went first with the shooting sticks, and I followed close behind with the rifle. I lost track of how many times I set the rifle on the shooting sticks only to have a solitary bull bound further away or into the herd, waving his glorious blonde tail and kicking up his heels. We would spot another loner and head in his direction, but I never had that extra fraction of a second to get the crosshairs on target and pull the trigger. Finally, there was a bull standing still and quartering toward us at about 250 yards. I held just right of center low on his chest to catch both heart and lungs and pulled the trigger. He did not go far, and I had my very first African trophy. That taxidermy mount now hangs in an upstairs bedroom. I give him a pat on the nose every now and then. A wildebeest in the bedroom? Remember, I told you we are very short on wall space.

Although eight hours a day might be spent hunting, that still left plenty of time to enjoy the meals and the ambience back at the lodge. Wild game featured heavily in the menu, and I loved that. We even had a chance to sample choice cuts from animals taken that week. For one dinner appetizer, Steph grilled blue wildebeest tenderloins over acacia coals, and they practically melted in your mouth. I also learned that he was quite a joker. He photo-bombed a picture that I was taking of my hunting partners at the dinner table before I even knew what that behavior was called. How was he as a PH? Great. He knew the property. He knew the wildlife and their behavior. He knew how to set up for a good shot. Experience counts, and he demonstrated that he had it in spades. I wish that he would write an article for AHG!

What I wanted next was a nyala. That species captivated me the first time that I ever saw one hanging on a friend’s wall…so beautiful. That herd was being built up at the time, and owner Hannes DuPlessis had very few that he was willing to have taken. He allotted two days for that hunt. We patrolled the hunting area in two vehicles, working to spot a suitable nyala or at least find a set of fresh tracks. That was also one of those times when a desired photo op flashed by before I could even say “stop, please”. We drove right by a pair of bat-eared foxes, the first ones that I had ever seen outside of a zoo. I was already thinking that I would have to come back some day, so I put bat-eared fox photos in my Bucket List. Before long Hannes radioed Steph to say that they were following a nice nyala that had just lost his status of herd bull that morning to a younger challenger. Once we were in the right area, we got fleeting glimpses of that bull, but he would disappear behind a screen of large shrubs before I could get the crosshairs on him. Eventually the trackers set out to follow him on foot, and we set up in what we hoped would be an intercept position. Suddenly there he was, walking in our direction. Steph wanted me to wait for a standing broadside shot, but there was no guarantee that it was going to happen. He could just as easily have slipped away in the cover once again. Lines of sight were very limited. As he kept walking, I put the crosshairs on his chest much as I had done for the black wildebeest, and I pulled the trigger. He dropped in his tracks. I was thrilled. As he was being set up for the customary photos of a successful hunt, I could not stop smiling. I was so grateful to the owner, my PH, and the trackers who had made that moment possible. I laid my hand on his forehead, a gesture of respect for the life that I had just taken. I stroked his side, admiring the markings. When Hannes checked his teeth, the wear on his lower incisors showed that he was an old guy. He had been in a lot of battles in his life. His hide was full of old scars plus the new marks from the fight that he had just lost. Back at the lodge, all of the guys kept asking me what I wanted to hunt next or offering suggestions for what they felt I should hunt. Kudu? No. I had too much affection for that regal antelope to kill one. Gemsbok? No. There was still the issue of mount size and wall space. Where could I put a big antelope with big horns? We had already been taking down artwork to make room for trophies from Austria. For the rest of my stay at Bergzicht I only took photos, but I knew that I had to come back some day. The Safari Bug had bitten me, and I was firmly under Africa’s spell.

I went back to Bergzicht by myself in both August 2021 and March 2024, hunting again with both camera and rifle, but those adventures and successes are a story for another time. I know that a lot of African hunters and guides frown upon hunting from a vehicle or within any size of enclosure delimited by fences. In my opinion and based upon my experiences, fair chase is not a “one size fits all” code of conduct. Is shooting a white-tailed deer from a hunting stand more ethical than taking an African antelope from a parked vehicle? That is a fine line. I do not condemn others for having different hunting goals or methods from mine. For me, hunting ethics have a core of following the law wherever you hunt, minimizing an animal’s suffering, and of making safety the top priority of every outing. One shot. One kill. It is not something that I have achieved every time that I seek to put meat in the freezer at home, or cross an ocean to hunt in another habitat, but it is true most of the time. Non-hunters don’t understand that the hunt is so much more than just the killing. It is the sights and sounds and smells and sensations that just make you feel more alive, and sharing it with folks who appreciate all of it as much as you do is integral to the whole experience. If I ever lose that twinge of regret when my quarry is lying dead at my feet, that animal that I both desire and respect, then it will be time to quit hunting. I am 74 and I have not reached that point yet. If only we had more wall space!

Hannes posed with me and my lovely old nyala.

This young kudu bull was heading for higher ground.

Silhouette of a secretary bird.

Written by Dustin Bomley

Africa has been a mystical dream since I was 15 and started hunting with my uncle’s hand-me-down recurve bow. As I grew older and began shooting in 3D archery tournaments around the region, I always most enjoyed shooting the exotic African replica foam targets. Fast forward to my 40s, travelling across states carting my son to his “A” level hockey team practices, another hockey dad and I begin talking about hunting and shooting. We instantly became friends, as not only were our sons teammates, but our interests were aligned. I told my new friend, Chad, that someday I would love to hunt Africa.

Chad’s response, “I know just the guy and outfitter to go with!”

The next day at practice Chad arrived sporting a memory book that he had made from his trip to South Africa just a few years previously, hunting with Mike Birch’s Hunt the Sun Safaris. While I thumbed through the pages Chad described the very aspects that draw many sportsmen to the Dark Continent!

I was sold! When do we go? This was February of 2021 and Chad got the wheels rolling. 

As we touched down in Johannesburg in late June 2022 my expectations were high, and I was absorbing everything I could. We lodged overnight at the Afton Safari Lodge, a transition spot for safari goers, and then were off on an early flight to Port Elizabeth the next morning. We didn’t arrive at our camp until the first evening, as we had to wait all day for a second flight from Joburg due to our rifle cases not arriving on our earlier flight. We rushed to get rifles shot while checking zero before dark so we could begin our hunt the next morning.

The first morning of my African safari was everything that I could have imagined! We made our way high onto a mountaintop in search of one of several target animals. My PH, James, and tracker Sperlo were glassing mountain reedbuck when I spotted a small group of kudu 800 yards away, making their way across an open area below and to the east of our position. Once it was determined that the bull was worth going after, we began our slow and methodical descent from our elevated perch. Moving into a good position and with a solid rest established, we waited as the kudu bull moved slowly into my predetermined shooting lane. The bull was 330 yards, and I squeezed the flat trigger on my custom 7mm SAUM to bag my very first African animal.

Little did I know that I had begun a quest—a quest that I would not completely realize until planning my second trip with Hunt the Sun Safaris.

The first trip to South Africa had been spectacular and I also had my then 16-year-old son in tow. We took a variety of animals during our trip, but not until a year and a half after returning home did I realize that I wanted to pursue what many call the Spiral Horn Slam which consists of African animals with horns that spiral from the base to the tip. The primary four in this “Slam” is the kudu also known as the Grey Ghost of Africa, eland, nyala and bushbuck. Each is entrenched in its own unique habitat, and as I began to study these wary animals, I learned each hunt would require its own strategy. 

Chad and I began discussions regarding our future goals and dreams for returning to Africa. As can be imagined, Cape buffalo entered the conversation! Chad and I both have this crazy disease (more of an addiction) to firearms. In our talks we decided that we should buy a pair of matching rifles for our next safari. Thinking along the lines of buffalo, we elected to go with the venerable .375 H&H Magnum.

We then had to decide what brand of rifle we wanted to purchase or have built. In my research I came across Parkwest Arms and immediately fell in love with the look and options available on the SD-76 model. After much research and banter, Chad and I both ordered our first Parkwest rifles. Mine was a splendid Savanna, including wood fine enough to drive any fine furniture maker crazy. Chad’s rifle was a Dark Continent with the fit and finish of a Rolls Royce and a walnut stock that will make any safari goer drool with envy.

Planning began, airline flights were booked, but Chad had a medical issue crop up out of nowhere. We were a few months from leaving on this much looked forward to safari with Hunt the Sun Safaris, when my hunting buddy was forced to bow out of the trip…

Scrambling, I assembled a fine group of friends to join me, and they were all greatly anticipating the journey, just as I had during my first trip. The only problem was that I didn’t want to hunt buffalo with the new Parkwest Savanna without Chad and his Dark Continent along. Shifting gears, I began to revisit the Spiral Horn Slam.

Day three of my second trip to RSA, with a few animals taken by my accompanying friends and a few failed stalks made on eland, I began to have doubts about my spiral-horn ambitions.

We were on our way back to the Arnotsdale Lodge following my friend Adam’s successful barbary sheep hunt when our PH Brenley stopped the Toyota Land Cruiser to look over a herd of springbok. Off to the left at about 100 yards stood a small herd of eland. Looking over them, Brenley said there was a big bull in the herd. After a bit of maneuvering and checking the wind, we made a short stalk. The eland bull stood sandwiched between a younger bull and a few cows as they became aware of our presence. With a nervous wander, the bull cleared itself from the others and offered a 211-yard shot. I quickly turned the turret of the Leupold VX6 1-6 and anchored myself on the shooting sticks. A well-placed 270-grain Barnes TSX from my Parkwest Savanna, and the bull stumbled and fell. I must admit, the size of the eland bull stunned me! They look large on the hoof, but walking up to him it blew my mind just how enormous the largest African antelope actually is!

Day six came with an early morning departure from the lodge as we were headed south to where my new PH, JJ, knew of an area that held a good quantity of nyala. Nyala like brush and cover and finding them wasn’t so much the issue as finding a good bull. Once in the area we began to see nyala ewes and some young bulls, but finding one that was mature was becoming increasingly difficult. We were supposed to be moving the entire camp from the Northern Cape on the edge of the Kalahari to the Eastern Cape in the Karoo, and my little impromptu nyala hunt had delayed our departure. JJ and I were ready to call it a morning and begin our move with the rest of the group, when he whispered from behind his binoculars, “There’s a good bull!”

My heart leapt and I quickly grabbed my Swarovski 10x42s to scan in the direction JJ was looking. There, about 350 yards away was the bull, walking and feeding with the sun behind him, his white mane glistening in the light, creating a glowing halo around his body. I immediately noticed his orange legs and his lofty spiral horns silhouetted in the blue sky. This was everything I imagined a nyala hunt would be! Once he made his way behind some thorn brush, JJ and I began working our way toward him with the wind in our favor. Keeping a small ridge between us we worked our way into an ambush position. We anticipated a 150-yard shot, but the bull instead appeared from behind a green hedge at just 90 yards. I was already on the sticks and pressed into a stable hold. With the crosshairs burned on his right shoulder, the shot broke and the magnificent bull lunged up and into the next hedge. JJ turned and high-fived me, but then said, “Get another round loaded, these critters are tough, and those horns are sharp and dangerous!”

We approached the downed nyala, both its shoulders broken from the Barnes TSX. JJ had me shoot once more for insurance. I had taken my top target animal and was overwhelmed. Such a beautiful creature!

On day eight we settled into a beautiful farmhouse named Whytebank in the Eastern Cape, about three hours outside of Port Elizabeth. The temperature was a frigid 26 degrees F and for the second time in 18 years (according to the farm owners) there was snow on the ground in the mountains surrounding us. I was back with my original PH, Brenley, and we were headed out to see what we could find. Adam was looking for bushbuck, mountain reedbuck or blesbok. I was focused on bushbuck, as that would complete my Spiral Horn Slam. We started out, heading south to an area that Brenley knew had some good mountain reedbuck, when the radio began to sputter. One of the other trackers, Albert, was on the radio with Brenley speaking one of the 11 official different languages used in RSA. I picked up enough to know there had been a bushbuck spotted and Albert knew that our Cruiser had the bushbuck guys in it. A quick U-turn to the north and an 80 kph ride on a dirt road, and we soon approached an area called Many Waters. As we were looking up the hill, our tracker Anton spotted a long-horned ram and ewe on the downhill side. Brenley glassed him over and decided he was a mature ram. A 239-yard shot delivered from my trusty Parkwest Savanna and my Spiral Horn Slam was complete!

It took me two trips to complete my slam. Today Chad is on the mend from his medical issue, and we are beginning the planning for our third trip. This foray will also be outfitted by Mike Birch, Hunt the Sun Safaris, but we will be going a different direction. The third trip will take place in the Timbavati area of South Africa, and we both will be targeting the elusive Cape buffalo on his home turf while toting Parkwest rifles!

A couple of pre-safari, 100-yard practice groups with the Parkwest SD-76 Savanna chambered in 375 H&H Magnum.