Stalking

I lay flat and crawled slowly forward, my head inches away from the soles of the head keeper's boots.  We stopped.  We waited. 

The problem was that the stags we were stalking were too close - just over the ridge in front of us.  If we crawled onto the ridge, they would see us outlined against the horizon and disappear.  Ab suggested that we wait for them to graze to the right, where we would have a good shot at them without having to expose ourselves.

We waited.  I fell asleep.  It started to rain.  I woke up.  I was primarily concerned with the fact that I was absolutely bursting for a pee, and could we please either shoot this damn stag or have them all run away, so I can stand up and relieve myself.

Ab very slowly lifted his head up, and froze for a long time.  When he slowly lowered it, he said to me 'that was a close one!'.  Turns out that after popping his head up, and seeing a group of 15 or so stags just 80 yards away, one of them had stared right at him.  He froze stock still, and after a couple of minutes of staring contest, the stag decided that he was no threat, and went back to his grazing.

We slowly crawled a bit closer, our bellies touching the ground, and Ab very quietly unzipped the gun from its case.  We waited.  And waited.  I tried to sleep a bit more but could only think about the pressure in my bladder. 

Presently Ab whispered urgently to me - "they've smelt something".  They were apparently (I had still not seen them at this point)  lifting their heads and sniffing the air upwind.  Then suddenly there was a thundering of hooves and we looked up to see a large stag bearing down on us.  He froze when he saw us, perhaps 5 metres away.  We had been caught completely by surprise and had no time to pick up the rifle and aim for a point blank shot.  Besides, I wasn't allowed to shoot just any old stag.  We had to sit and look at them, and Ab would pick one for me that was not too good and not too young.

More stags appeared at speed over the ridge, and we found ourselves looking up at 4 or 5 magnificent beasts who were about to run us over at speed.  They  screeched to a halt when they reached their friend and all turned left, in full flight away from our position.  I frantically got behind the scope of the gun and tried to find them.  Not that easy when they were still only 50m away. They paused about 100 yards away, and Ab quickly selected a beast, which had its tail to us. As he turned to the right and exposed his side, Ab gave me the word to fire.  I gently squeezed the trigger.  Nothing.  I squeezed harder.  The fucking safety was on.  I took the safety off .... but it was too late.  They were all on the move again at speed, towards the ridge on the horizon. 

That was it.  After hours of crawling and waiting, our quarry had escaped from under our noses, and nearly mown us down in the process.


We stood up slightly dazed, struggling to believe what just happened.  We soon found that there was no round in the chamber either, so even if the safety had been off, I probably still wouldn't have had time to take a shot.

We returned to Aurora and John the ghillie, who were thoroughly fed up and cold after waiting for us for two hours.  At least they hadn't eaten our lunch.

Aurora decided she needed to get back to the house ASAP before her fingers fell off, so she headed off with Rob to the landrover.  I went with Ab to see if we could find some more stags.  After another hour or so, having resigned myself to writing off the day completely, Ab announced that there were some stags over the next ridge. 

We sat and waited out a passing shower.  Luckily I had enough decent gear on to keep warm.

Ab stuck his stick in the ground and tied the dogs up.  Once more we got down and started crawling.  Not like a baby crawls, but more like Felix crawled before he learned to use his legs.   Just dragging himself along with his arms. 

As I hauled myself over a low rise, I finally caught sight of the group - perhaps 30 individuals, only about 180 yards away.  We got closer.  Ab indicated for me to lie alongside him, and got the gun ready.  "Keep your finger off the trigger".  He selected a stag with the binos while I looked through the scope.   "Don't shoot until I give the word."





The stag was standing near another one nearby.  As the other stag moved off, Ab told me to shoot when ready.  A gentle squeeze of the trigger, a whopping bang, and the group were all galloping away.  Except for my one, who was lagging somewhat.  He slowed to a walk, flicking his tail.  Then he stood still.  He looked like someone standing in the kitchen trying to remember why they came in there in the first place.  I reloaded the rifle in case he wasn't going to go down.

Then he sank to his knees.  Ab had us wait for a little longer in case he got back up.  We stood up and I thanked Ab.  He got on the radio to John with the Argocat.  The rest of the group of stags, who were watching us at a safe distance, spotted us and fled across the mountainside.

I put my hand in my pocket to discover a gooey mess - the banana and smarties I had stuffed into my pocket earlier had not taken too kindly to being soaked in the rain and then crushed into the heather.

I returned to the lodge flush with success, my face stained with blood for my first stag, my only regret being the lack of camera to capture the moment. 

It did seem rather surreal the next morning when I picked up the head of my stag and tried to fit it in the boot of the hire car in order to drive it down the road to a chap in Braemar who would stuff it and mount it for me.

How is it ok to shoot a stag?

I did wonder myself.  The red deer is native to Scotland, but since the wolf was made extinct some 200 years ago, it has had no natural predators.  So in the absence of any management, the population would increase exponentially until they ran out of food. 

I learnt from Ab that landowners in Scotland have a legal obligation to manage their deer populations.  Once a year the entire deer population in the whole area is counted, and every 4 years they use a helicopter to get a more accurate count.  If Scottish Natural Heritage judge that you've not culled enough deer, they will send a hunter round to shoot some, and send you the bill.

So the landowners do need to regularly shoot deer, to protect the heather from damage due to overgrazing and trampling (which would in turn affect other species like mountain hare and grouse).

Ab, head keeper at Glenmuick

Namibia

Namibia

Looking out of the window when on final approach to the main airport of a European capital city, what would you expect to see?  Houses, roads, warehouses, an airport hotel perhaps, lots of car parks, then finally a perimeter road.  Not so at Windhoek airport.  Instead, it's just bush - classic African savanna, right until the perimeter fence when there's even more bush, and finally a runway.  And this despite Windhoek being the capital city of a country larger (in area) than France and Germany combined.

But don't think that Namibia is an impoverished African backwater.  Well at any rate, it's not impoverished.  This is European Africa.  No townships to be seen on the way from the airport to the town - it certainly gives the impression of being a place with far less inequality than its neighbour to the south.

Windhoek airport

I'm here for a bike ride across the desert, an endeavour which I (perhaps foolishly) volunteered myself for back in January of this year.

Day -3  Johannesburg

A long flight from London in Premium Economy - managed to sleep thanks to some Valium.  Hand baggage included the drone, in its large travel case.  Looking out of the window on approach, it did bring out my soft spot for Joburg - it was after all my home for 3 years.  Got to Hilton (via Gautrain - very smooth and comfortable) in time for a nice breakfast in the sunshine and a dip in the pool.  A quick drone flight, and then up to the room to do a full day's work ( it's all about the billable days).  

Sandton Hilton, from the air

I had tried to arrange to meet all my Joburg friends for dinner, but it turned out to be a damp squib.  Charlene was sent to Kimberley for work at the last minute, Marisca didn't want to come, etc.  In the end it was Amy, Chris du Plessis, Jo and Tijl (plus Sam), and Rajesh (who kindly paid for dinner).

Day -2  Windhoek

Pack and repack, atttempting to get travel pillow and yoga mat in bag before conceding defeat and strapping helmet to the outside of my day pack.  Nice BA lounge followed by 1200 flight to Windhoek.  Airport in the middle of the bush!  Taxi to Maison Ambre - a small comfortable place run by Beate - very nice and very German!  Bruno arrives shortly after me.  We walk to the bike shop (no footpath - classic Africa) for a briefing with the rest of the team, followed by a big steak at Sardinia restaurant.

Day -1  To the desert

Lunch stop at Uis - the last sign of civilization for about a week

An early start and pickup in big minibus for a long drive.  Stop at Uis for lunch - a very quiet 'town' with a petrol station, restaurant, and not much else.  In the car, our guide Joe and John the Botanist describe a plant which we saw examples of by the side of the road.  It looked very much like a dead cactus, but was in fact a plant with only 2 leaves, each measuring up to 2 x 5 m, but which get shredded by grazing animals.  A beetle fertilizes the plants, which can live for up to 2500 years!

Kalahari Ferrari, Uis

We change vehicles to 2 huge land cruiser conversions.  We were now travelling in 3 vehicles and 2 trailers, and we headed off across the desert.  After a brief stop to buy rocks (yes quite) at a barren, windswept, isolated place with lots of people selling rocks, the road gradually got more and more rocky, and slower, as we descended into a gorge filled with large shale rocks.  It looks like the surface of Mars.  Upon arrival our tents has been set up by another team of people who later prepared a delicious supper.  

Slight technical problem - Rich can fix it

Day 0  First day on a bike!

A relatively late start (6:30am), and a relaxing breakfast.  It was very cold, and with 100% cloud cover.  After a tremendous faff getting the bikes ready, we finally headed off as the sun began to warm us.  A technical but gradual climb through a rocky gorge, with occasional wider stretches.  After lots of water and a couple of stops we reached a pass with an amazing view of the plateau ahead.  We then climbed on foot a small hill which gave an amazing panorama.  The landscape was furrowed and striped on a grand scale.  Millions of years of sedimentary rok deposit had turned on its side producing the most extraordinary scenery.  

A subset of the group then descended back to the camp by bike, while the others hid their bikes and drove back in the vehicles.

After a bucket shower (with ingenious heating system), lots of lunch and a nap, a few of us headed out in a vehicle to find a lake in a disused mine which we had heard about.  No-one really knew where it was but at the bottom of a huge hole we finally found a green and quite salty but warm pool where we had a nice swim and took some photos.

Open cast swimming pool

Day 1  First proper day on a bike

Day 2  I hate soft sand!

India

Arrived Bombay after a night flight in First class.  Concorde room very nice but trip marred by the recent break-up so was in no mood to enjoy another trip alone.

Road journey from Bombay to the Westin hotel in Pune a real eye-opener.  Road actually pretty good in places, but the driving truly abysmal.  On one long hill the road had 3 lanes, but slow-moving lorries were distributed across all 3 lanes.  The car then dodged around these almost stationary obstacles in what seemed like a 1980s video game.

Hotel very nice and the service really is first class.  You want for nothing.  I had my shirts ironed, my shoes shined.  When you arrive at the pool they bring towels and lay them out on the sun lounger for you.  IF you are walking down the corridor and a staff member is hoovering or something they stop, get out the way and bow so low they practically touch the ground.

There's a couple of good bars in the hotel, and on Saturday night you can sit in the restaurant and watch a stream of scantily clad young Indians streaming in, then a couple of hours later they're not so much streaming as steaming...

Superb restaurant Kangan serves Indian food.  They pour your drink for you, lay your napkin across your lap, etc.  And Olaf who's already been here a week has been eating Indian food 3 times a day, with no meat.  With the flavours in the food you don't really need meat.

We get a hotel car to the office every day.  The drive takes us past an interesting selection of Indian society.  People sitting on street corners selling cigarettes, a guy who's set up an awning on the pavement and is cutting hair, mobile phone shops, beggars, a family of goats, and guys pushing hand carts full of random stuff like giant piles of cardboard.  At one point there is tree (looks very old) growing in the slow lane.  You wonder how you build a road without removing the tree first.

And whole families will travel by motorbike - helmets strictly optional.  They undertake, go the wrong way down dual carriageways.  The tuktuks, or auto rickshaws, carry up to 8 people and the drivers are also pretty fearless.  People will pull out straight into 2 lanes of oncoming traffic, and somehow nobody gets killed.  We did have a motorbike hit (a glancing blow) the car on the way home but our driver wasn't bothered and the motorbike didn't even stop.

The daily routine consists of waking up about 9, having a superb breakfast, then lying by the pool until about 11, when we get cars to the Vodafone offices.  At 7 or 8 in the evening we will get cars back to the hotel, have dinner and go to bed about midnight.

A strange set up in the office.  For 6 days we struggled to get permissions to do simple things like run linux in a VM, or connect to the internet. They are completely unempowered and every little thing needs to be checked with the gods of infosec.

My 2 guys Vivek and Prashant also can't believe how difficult it is to do things in Vodafone here.  They've worked for other big IT companies like infosys, so they have a perspective which I don't.  Things got so bad we ended up moving out and working from a hotel where we could at least get the connectivity we needed.

At the weekend I had thought of going to Goa, but in the end I thought I would try and relax a bit.  Got my hair cut for 600 rupees then went to stay with Vivek on the Sunday, who had invited to 'play Holi' with his family and friends.

We had a drink at an awesome rooftop bar on top of the seasons hotel on Sunday night, then ate at Mainland China (where I attempted to teach 6 indians how to use chopsticks, without success).  Their flat is somewhat bare and they live on the 7th floor of a faceless concrete tower surrounded other similar towers, with a nice communal park in between.

On Monday morning we put our old clothes on and went down to see loads of kids running around with water pistols.  Vivek's friends produced coloured powder in bags and liberally adorned each other with colour.  Then we joined in the throwing water and paint around for an hour or so, until we were all completely plastered in colour and soaking wet.  Not a typical Monday morning then.

A trip to hospital

I'm sitting in a corridor in Basingstoke hospital. Across from me is a door marked resuscitation.  There was some screaming emanating from inside, then an alarm sounded and lots of doctors went in and out saying 'resus'. Two women (not dressed in scrubs) came out in tears. 

There are people here with real medical emergencies, but I'm not one of them!

I've been flown here in an air ambulance after falling off my horse in the polo arena. I fell on my head, then walked to the clubhouse where I had a little lie down.  The next thing I remember was waking up with no idea where I was, and Aurora looking very concerned. Apparently I had had some kind of seizure and Aurora had to hold me down to stop me writhing off the sofa onto the floor.

 

When she phoned 999 because of the seizure they decided to send a chopper because there were apparently no normal ambulances. I was mortified with embarrassment at the prospect but she couldn't stop them.

Within minutes there was the sound of a helicopter landing in the arena (I was under strict instructions not to move my head) and pretty soon a team of medics were swarming around me. They soon established what I knew already - namely that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, and all I needed was a nice cup of tea and a lie down. 

Anyway I was examined to the max, and I felt a bit like a king when everyone gathered blankets to keep me warm and someone even removed my boots for me! 

They decided I was fine, but I should be checked out at a hospital because concussion injuries can be hidden and only manifest themselves later (ask Liam Neeson).

They tried to organise a 'truck' (ie a normal ambulance), but there were still none available, so after some discussion about the relative merits of the Southampton hospital helipad and the Winchester kings school playing grounds, they finally opted to fly me to Basingstoke. 

I walked to the helicopter, but had to lie in the stretcher for the flight because there were already 4 people (maybe more!?) in it. 

I felt a bit bad wasting NHS resources, but secretly I was quite excited about going in a helicopter - that's a bucket list item ticked.  And Aurora was happy because the helicopter had cleared all the pesky leaves out of the arena. We invited the crew to come back next weekend for some bacon butties and polo.

The ride was actually rather boring since I was just staring at the ceiling. I craned my neck to look out the window, but just saw fields. Don't think we were much above 3000 feet. 

We landed in a field - from my (disad)vantage point I could see a cloud of leaves being blown up as we touched down. 

Things moved pretty fast early on. The helicopter took about 5 minutes to arrive, and the trip to Basingstoke took 12 minutes, but as soon as I entered the hospital things slowed  down to a positively glacial pace. 

After a while, the triage nurse arrived: 'So Mr. Darwin, I understand you fell off your horse playing polo, is that correct?'  Good grief, what a middle class injury. Or non-injury, in my case. And what a fool I feel when there is a girl screaming in pain two cubicles down. 

And so here I find myself, surrounded by people who actually have something wrong with them, waiting for a doctor to see me and wishing I had brought a book. 

 

Felix's trip to France

In September we took Felix to France for a polo tournament.


He enjoyed the channel tunnel,



especially the shopping in the terminal.



When we arrived we found the accomodation needed a little work,




but Felix didn't mind, since he discovered the mini-bar was full of breast milk.




Some of his French relatives were pleased to meet him,


La bise a la Francaise!

while others were not so sure.






While in France we visited Versailles,




where Felix brushed up on his DSLR photography skills.





Il était super content d'etre a St. Agnan chez les Besses;




de diner en famille,



se bronzer dans le jardin,



et surtout la piscine, qu'il a adore.






Unfortunately, he also inherited his dress sense from his father.





Chez Francois Felix a bien aimé son premier gout d'un Kir Royal,





and a nice Beaujolais,






but it definitely impacted his driving ability.





On the last day, he was sad to be packing his bags....





but at least he could fit them in the car, unlike some.

Felix's holiday in Scotland.

On Monday I took Felix on his first plane ride - to Scotland.

When we got to the station he was very excited about going on holiday.

On the train to Gatwick he made some new friends and admired the view.

When we got on the plane he was very impressed with the comfy seat.

It took him a little while to figure out how to use the seatbelt...

but he got there in the end.

 I showed him what the boarding pass was for...

But when I tried to explain the Bernoulli principle he had other ideas.

 

 

He made some new friends...

and pretty soon we were in Inverness.

After a delicious supper,

and a wee dram by the fire,

it was time for bed.

 

After leaving Scotland we went to the lakes where we did a cruise on Lake Windermere.

 Felix was very excited about the prospect of staying at Holbeck Ghyll...

 as he had heard the four poster beds were very comfy.

 The next day we did a bit of walking.  Felix helped with the navigation...

posed for photographs...

and took us to the most beautiful spots.

 He enjoyed the lakes very much, but his favourite bit was probably bedtime.