Well boys, we had our 9th annual teal hunt this past weekend in my home town of El Campo, Tx, and had 11 disabled hunters come in for the weekend. 2 guys were new injuries and it was their first time back in the field. We had 8 different landowners and several volunteers who gave up their time to help guide our hunters. 

After a roast duck dinner on Friday at the Texana Seed Co. in Garwood, hunters were paired with their guides and friendships were either made or rekindled. Also, we worked with some of the hunters who needed some "on-the-spot" adaptive equipment work to test out on the hunts.

In 2 days, the group downed about 85 ducks in all, and everyone saw good action. For some, just getting out was the most important accomplishment. They got to see that some things are still possible even after traumatic injuries.

Next year will be our 10th anniversary and I know it'll be a great one!

Thanks everybody!

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The 2^nd morning began almost identical to yesterday’s: a knock at the door about a quarter to six, then a very cordially “get your lazy ass up!” from Ray, a hot breakfast in the main lodge at seven, then heading out the door to hunt.  It’s cold & clear again, calm too, perfect safari weather.   

 

Something special about being in the southern hemisphere is that at night all the stars are different.  The Southern Cross is visible after dark, Orion is upside down early in the morning before sunrise, and the planet Venus is to the north instead of in the southern sky like it is in Texas.   

 

Today we’re going after zebra, Burchell’s zebra to be exact.  There’s also a Hartman’s which is known as mountain zebra.  It’s one of the African animals that I have at the top of my wish list.   

 

On the same concession where I’d taken my kudu the day before, we spotted a herd moving across the lower plains almost as soon as we crossed the gate.  Immediately, Ray stopped the cruiser to get me set up in the shooting chair in the back.  It’s a two-man operation to pull that off.  Ray carries me from the truck around back to hand me off to Boisahn (our tracker) who’s up in the back.  Boisahn then sets me in the chair.  Once the rifle’s in the holder and I get my trigger device on, it’s rock-n-roll time! 

 

Zebra were still on the horizon when we started moving.  The plan was to ease closer, skirting the herd until we could get within 200-250 yds, then try to single out a good one to shoot, without spooking them off of course.  One thing I quickly noticed was that all these animals like to head into the wind so they can smell where they are going.  Survival tactics. 

 

Well, two hours later and we were still playing this cat-n-mouse game.  Ray decided to stop pushing them for awhile and set up a pop-up blind along a game trail.  He knew where they likely would cross if they wanted to get back to the area where we first found ‘em.  “And who knows what we might see come by,” he added.  It was a natural funnel. 

 

Ray was exactly right!  It was a funnel.  Problem was, every animal funneled by in high gear, and the whole zebra herd rumbled by in a cloud of dust when they eventually decided to come, along with blesbuck, springbuck and two nice gemsbok.  Ray & I rushed to look over the zebra when they went by, but it didn’t matter.  They weren’t stopping. 

 

Half an hour later, we were back in the cruiser and back on the trail.  It’d be another hour before we picked up the zebra herd again.  When we got within 300 yds, Ray & I had a nice stallion picked for a minute, but the herd swallowed him up before I could get the crosshairs on him.  Away they went gain. 

 

Finally, we caught them in a good spot.  The herd grazed out into a large opening just as we eased down into a brushy draw.  With the wind in our favor, I knew this was going to be my best chance.  Still, though, it wasn’t going to be easy.  And I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

 

There we sat, parked in the draw with the motor off.  Ray poured over the herd as I followed best I could through the scope.  They’d graze some, walk some, then feed some more, all the while staying in a tight group so no one zebra could be singled out.  Smart animals!  Suddenly, the herd parted a little, leaving one alone in the middle for a few seconds.  I was ready.  “You see him?  That one in the middle.  Shoot him!” Ray barked in a whisper.  “Shoot now!” 

 

I settled down on him as fast as I could without rushing and pulled.  The rifle cracked and a moment later thumped as the herd scrambled off.  When the dust settled, my zebra was still standing, but hit hard.  My next shot put him away for good. 

He turned out to be better than I could’ve dreamed, a beast of a stallion that took 6 men and a winch to load into the truck.  (Above - My PH, Ray Kemp, & I pose behind a beautiful Burchell's zebra stallion)

 

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After 3 days in Paris, I was ready to board the plane for South Africa and my first ever hunting safari. We took off late that night.  The excitement I felt can only be known by born-to-hunt hunters going on their first trip to the dark continent, that vast unknown where the most famous sportsmen of our time had all gone before.

 

We touched down in Johannesburg early the next morning, catching the short flight to East London a few hours later to meet Ray Kemp of Lalapa Safari and head off into the night toward bush camp.

Ray's mom & dad were waiting for us with supper, as well as another PH named Scotty, then it was straight to bed for four weary travelers. It would only be me, my dad, Bert Hill & his wife Carolyn in camp for the whole hunt. Ray runs a small operation and I think he wanted to be able to stay with me the whole hunt since I was going to be the first disabled hunter they’d ever had. 

When we first got to camp, I could see that Ray had been preparing for me.  He’d constructed a special "shooting" chair, complete with gun rest, that could swivel 360 degrees, and mounted it onto the back of his safari cruiser.  He also had ramps in place leading up to my chalet and the bathroom I found plenty accessible.  I must admit, without me there to give any input, Ray did a super job. First thing in the morning, we tested the rig and it shot great. (I’d be shooting 180 gr nosler partition bullets through Ray's silencer equipped Sako 30-06 with for the entire hunt) And after the first two test shots, I knew it was going to be a special trip.  That silencer takes almost all the recoil off.

 

On the ride in from East London, Ray and I had talked about going after a kudu to start my safari.  Once he said it would be the hardest trophy to get, I told him kudu was at the top of my list.  It didn’t take long to decide.

We woke to a wonderfully frosty morning, clear & sunny. A perfect day to start on.

After an early breakfast and a quick trip to the range, off we went to a concession that held most of mountain country that kudu liked to roam.  As soon as we got through the gate, game started showing up all over. Animals I'd only seen on tv shows before now. We saw impala, reedbuck, blesbuck, ostrich & one huge waterbuck as we started our trek up into the hills above a river valley.  It was difficult for me to focus on the kudu bull we were after.

A mile later, we spotted a nice one, alone at the bottom slope almost around the first mountain. Ray immediately stopped to glass him as I practiced getting my scope on him. He was a really nice bull, but just not quite big enough to take this early, so we rolled on. Toward the end of that road, Ray picked out another bull on the opposite hillside, a full 300 yds away.  He looked good too, they all did to me, but since Ray said he was a younger bull, we decided to practice a stalk, which meant snaking the rover through the acacia trees to gain a little distance before stopping, then seeing how fast I could get a solid shot off.  In no time, I found him in the scope and got steady with the crosshairs on him.  And that's exactly how we left the boy.

On our drive out, we came across that first kudu we'd passed.  This time, though, another bull was with him.  A bigger one!  As soon as we stopped, he saw us and slipped into a thick draw out of sight.  Not in a very big thicket, but he was gone from sight.  We weren't going anywhere now though. We could see all his escape routes so we knew exactly where he was. We just couldn't see him.

An hour later, Ray spotted a horn poking out of a bush. The bull was standing in there, watching us as intently as we were trained on him.  But he wasn't about to move.  So we had to wait on the 'ready' until something happened.

Half hour later, he decided he'd had enough and busted from his hiding spot.  Off he went up and around the mountain to our left, and with Ray's help, I swung the chair trying to keep up with him in the scope.  He stopped three different times as he moved away, each time behind a piece of brush, or tree or rocks, anything.  The fourth time he stopped, though, I could see his shoulder through a narrow opening. (Wary animals these kudu.)

"There! Can you see him Chad?" Ray said quickly. "You see his shoulder? Shoot him!"

I settled as fast as I could high on the bull's exposed shoulder and sent the bullet. Straight to the ground he went!  Halfway up the mountain, I had just taken my first african animal, a beautiful east cape kudu bull.

 

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My first steps into this world came… when I started to become aware that the guns I owned weren’t as accurate as I wanted them to be.  Not nearly as consistent as I wanted them to be, I decided one day while re-sighting in my rifle before a mule deer hunt that I was ready for the upgrade.

 

I’ll started my journey by zero-ing in on the caliber that would be just perfect for what I intended to use it for, and for me, that had to be hunting!  A full year went by as I contemplated having a rifle built and what size would meet all my expectations in the field. 

 

Since elk & mule deer hunting are at the top of my wish list (as well as an African Safari), I knew it had to be a big caliber, something with more “umph” than a 270 and gentler than the crazy ultra-mags that have become the rage of late.  I’m not a big enough boy to handle the recoil.  Well, another six months went by as I researched my options, read professional opinions & online reviews, and listened to friends’ suggestions, stirring them all in with my own ideas on what I thought I needed against what I thought I’d be able to handle.  I finally narrowed it down to two choices:  the 264 magnum & the 7mm magnum.

 

After talking to two of my closest friends who had experience with the 264, and after more intensive research on both calibers, I chose the 7mm mag.  I seemed to have everything I was looking for in a bullet, a flat-shooting round that could go big enough to do the job on a bull elk if need be.  The 264, in my opinion, was just a hair light for that size of a big game animal.

 

Step 2 - Building a Gun - To be continued...

 

Well everybody has one. why not me? and since i've had to tell it about a million times over the past 17 years, i figure posting it may end up saving me some time.

"What happened?" Oh how many times i've heard that? in line at the grocery store, hanging out with friends at the mall, you get the picture. and what a simple little question too. one that i don't mind at all sharing with other people. a word of advice first, just wait for the right moment before you casually ask me to relive the most traumatic event of my life.

on paper it looks pretty simple to me now, in '86 i dove into a pool, hit the bottom and broke my neck right around C-6/7. i knew right away what had happened and what it meant so it was never difficult for me to

accept. i was more shocked that it had happened to me when i was 17 and 10 feet tall and invinceable.

I also knew right off that i wasn't ready for my life to be over just yet. lucky for me, i had a lot of family and friends that felt the same way. And for a while all i had was hope that it wouldn't be.

There were just some things that i wasn't going to quit doing no matter what got in the way. i'll give you one guess as to what that something might be.

sure sounds inspirational huh? But anyone who has lived through an sci injury can tell you there's a lot more to it than that. so much that you couldn't explain it to anyone who hasn't walked it (so to speak). It's no trip through the park. never was since the second i was taken to the hospital, isn't today and won't be until i die or they finally figure out how to fix this thing.

"What happened?" I used to say that to myself a lot when I first got hurt. Actually, it was more like "I can't believe this happened." Especially during that first year. That's the worst one to live through because you're still thinking like an able-bodied person and living in a disabled body. And how long does it take to adjust..., well i'll get back to you.

What i could do, and easily, is write an advice column. 'How to live through sci - 10 easy steps' (no pun intended) The best piece of advice i can give to anyone to start off is to get out and do stuff. it doesn't matter what, doesn't matter where, just get out and go. If you are a friend or family member of someone who is recently disabled, help them do it.

Figure out what is really important to you and figure out how to do it. I knew full well that i would have to give up some of the things i used to do. That comes with the territory. But not the ones that were at the top of my list. And by the grace of God there were things out there that i hadn't thought of doing until years later.

Keep an open mind. The last freedom that anyone has is to choose their attitude in any given situation. I've come across a few obstacles since that hot afternoon in July of '86, and i've found out that there are many different ways to get around them. It doesn't matter what other people say, doctors, parents, friends, idiots on the street, there's always a better way of doing something. Find it.

"What happened?" Well quite frankly, a lot has happened. If you are new to sci, then you'll see. If i could give you one thing, it would be to know that there is life afterwards. More than you can ever imagine right now. And when life gets to be like "if it ain't one thing, it's another," then hold on to that belief like grim death. If that doesn't work, then hey, lighten up. It only feels like an eternity.

"When a person is made to suffer then he knows that he is alone in the world in his suffering" - Victor Frankl. Like i said before, this trip isn't easy, and it's not for everyone.

Some won't make it, some will exist because they have to and some will succeed. If you're looking for some kind of good reason why this has happened to you, then good luck. I don't think it exists in this world. All i need is to believe that there is one. Though I don't think we are allowed to know what it is. As for me. How will my story end? Who knows? Let's just say i really hate to lose.

"There are 2 wolves battling each other at the core of my soul. One is angry and bitter. The other is happy and optimistic." Which one will win?

- whichever one i feed