The 20 Day Safari
At the end of Safari Day 1, after dinner was done and our bellies were full and we sat at table with glasses of scotch and cups of coffee and cigars and pipes lit and all the good stuff, I told John I had noticed something.
I began by summarizing my 2015 hunt for the others. John needed no reminding, as his memory for hunts and hunting details is astounding: he recalled almost every detail of my hunt 4 years before as well as I did, and recalled some details I had forgotten. But for those of you who may not recall it quite so well (ahem. ) here's a brief summary: I shot a nice zebra stallion on SD1, then we began stalking buffalo on SD2, killed a good buffalo on SD4, killed a really good kudu on SD6, then it started to rain, and we never got another shot on game despite looking hard for eland and waterbuck every day thereafter.
"So here's the thing, John," I said after the summary discussion hinted at above. "I had a great hunt in 2015, with the exception of not getting an eland, which is simply the way hunting goes. But I've been thinking, and maybe more accurately feeling, and what it feels like is this." I paused to puff my pipe and take a sip of coffee.
"What it doesn't feel like, to be precise, is that today doesn't feel like Day 1 of a new safari," I continued. "In reality, it feels like Day 11 of a continuing, ongoing, 20-day safari. It feels like I never left. We are still hunting eland, we are looking for our second buffalo, and maybe a second kudu, and definitely a nice waterbuck, but it's not a new hunt at all. We've added a couple of new people to have fun with us," I pointed my pipestem at Cate and Rayno, "But you and I are still on the same hunt we were on in 2015."
John smiled that small smile of his when something has got him thinking. "I think that's a very good way of looking at it, James," he said. "I'm pleased to hear that's how it feels to you, too."
"So that's how it feels to you as well?" I asked.
"I often feel that way," he said. "Not with everyone, but with clients who become friends, as you have done, that's how it feels."
Cate and Rayno seemed bemused by the conversation, but there were so many other good things to talk about they didn't mind. John and I mentioned it to each other now and again for the rest of the safari. (For example, on the morning of our second-last day in camp, I said to John as we walked out to the truck together, "Day 19, John, and we still haven't found him." "Don't remind me," he murmured in agreement. More on this discussion later...)
It may not seem like much to the casual reader, but to the African hunter, this concept of a never-ending safari that you can pick up at any time in the future is a profound one. The hunt never really ends, you simply lay it down after a while, and then after a longer while, you can pick it up again.
And that, my friends, is a priceless gift.
To be continued...
