Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Africa Home from Limpopo

We made it home and had a heck of a trip. Working on a write up and getting un-buried from life that seems to have gone on unabated while we were gone.

Here's a preview:

little rifle was a .308?

Sorry guys, this is way too long but it's more for me than you. Just look at the pictures!

Africa August 2018

Glenn (me) & my wife Jill, David & Jan & Caleb (a grandson), Riley and his son, Tezlin.
Limpopo province with Jacques Swart of atMarulahunt.co.za
August 20-29 2018

Preparations: This would be David's 7th trip to Africa, so when we were invited to go for our first time, we jumped. Jill teaches nursing at the local college and had a lot of school work to prepare and finish before the trip. I just concentrated on getting guns and packing lists ready.

I had acquired 2 new to me rifles within the last year that would make the trip with us. The bigger gun is a Belgian Dumoulin Mauser rifle put together by Frank Robinson chambered in 280 Ackley Improved with a Douglas barrel and stunning Bastogne walnut. Topped with a Leupold 2.5-8X it was grouping the Barnes 160 TSX more than adequately for Africa.

The other rifle was a Howa 1500 bedded in a McMillan stock and scoped with a Nightforce NSX 2.5-10X32 compact. This 6.5 Creedmoor shot the 143 grain Hornady ELD-X well enough that ringing steel out to 1000 yards was easily achieved using only the reticle.



Load development was pretty straightforward. Using Reloader 22 in the 280AI, the 160 Accubond shot a little better than the TSX, but I went with what had served me well for many years. The ELD-X was the first bullet tried in the Creedmoor, and after settling on a load powered with H4350, I promptly bought another thousand pills.

The Mauser needed a sling and I found a fellow selling an original Africase leather sling that just looked perfect. It took a few dollars and hours of listening to his stories, but I was happy with the deal.

I loaded 50 rounds for each rifle and tested each round for feeding & extraction at least 5 times. The horror stories we hear growing up of rifle/ammo troubles in the heat of African battle rung in my ears. Boring consistency was good enough for me.



Since I was taking my bride on this hunt, a rare treat for me, we made sure she had good gear. While we weren't expecting to be hiking multiple miles every day, we made sure her feet were taken care of with a pair of Hanwags and I took a well worn-in set of Kenetrek hikers. We found a short set of Boyt gaiters for her to keep the sticks and bugs out.

Hunting clothes were sprayed at home with Permethrin and we had no tick troubles despite seeing more than a few on the animals and other hunters.

Optics: I took my Swarovski EL Range 8.5x42 and Jill used a set of EL's in the same magnification. I felt bad about leaving my 15's, spotter and tripods home, but after talking to several people who had been to Africa, it seemed too much. If space and weight were not such a premium flying over there, I might take the 15's next time, but we never really felt underglassed. As you'll read in the hunt report, looking long is really not part of the African game.

The flights from SLC to ATL to Johannesburg went as well as we could expect. The Delta agent didn't look at my guns, just had me put the "unloaded" card in the case and we were off. We slept off and on with the anticipation of the week to come providing plenty of tolerance for the discomforts of the flight.

We were greeted at the airport by Jacques and were thru SAPS in less than 15 minutes. We loaded guns and bags into the little bush hog trailer and Jacques' people bus, an 8 passenger diesel Mercedes van. Not far out of Johannesburg, we stopped for our first taste of African food, a King double cheeseburger that tasted a lot like Burger King.

A few hours later we were at our camp on the Ndegi farm, some miles between Mokopane and Naboomspruit. Jill and I were assigned to one of the thatched-roof, brick chalets and after lining out our gear for the next morning, went straight to bed.



The hunts: When we booked the hunt, my list included kudu, impala, blesbok and warthog. I secretly hoped to add gemsbok and baboons if they were available. The latter of which I never saw even one.

Jacques guided David's crew. Jonnie, a middle aged PH with a great sense of humor took Riley & Tezlin, and Jonnie's son, Janco, guided Jill & me. Janco turned 21 the week of our hunt, but has been hunting since he was 6. He knew the area, animals and how to get them.

Janco and his dad smoked non-stop, but were courteous to keep it downwind most of the time. They all spoke Afrikaans and we often wished we could understand their conversations because they obviously loved each other and their work.

We were up early the first day and enjoyed a breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. And then we were off. Jill and I loaded the guns and a small day pack into our bakkie, a tan 4 door Toyota diesel pickup with the high rack in the back.

Driving off the property, we picked up our tracker, Brian, at the skinning shed. He greeted us thru the window and jumped on the back. From Zimbabwe, Brian looked to be in his 30's, with a gentle demeanor, sense of humor and eagle eye. I'm sure his tracking skills were excellent, but we wouldn't provide much opportunity for that.




We drove to one of the local farms to check our rifles. On the way in, we saw eland, monkeys and blesbok. That got the blood pumping. Setting up paper targets on a well worn target board, we each verified our rifles survived the trip with no point of impact shift.



Then we went our separate ways until lunch. Most of the properties we hunted were within a 30 minute drive of base camp, so usually we were home at noon for lunch and a siesta until 2 or 3 and then back to hunting until dark, which came early at this time of year in South Africa, about 6 pm.
That left lots of time around the campfire for dinner, hunt reports, stories and laughter. Even so, we were usually off to bed by 10:00.

Once on our target property, usually inside a locked gate, Janco would say, "Let's get on top." The high rack has a padded bench seat and a padded rest above the cab where I laid my rifle. Janco would stand behind us on a cooler, light up a smoke, and tell Brian to drive. Brian kept his eye on the trail, the bush and the side view mirror where Janco would give hand signals. We could tell this was not their first rodeo.

Most of these farms were thousands of acres of thick bush, cultivated fields, and in some cases cattle roamed the range. Within minutes, Janco was pointing out animals 80 to 150 yards out in the thickets. I did my best to out-spot him, but was rarely successful. If something was worth looking at, he'd signal Brian to stop and we'd glass. Glassing is one of my favorite parts of hunting, but here it's mostly used to just decide to pursue or keep driving.

About an hour in, Brian stopped the truck and Janco signaled me to get off the truck. He had seen kudu, and we were in pursuit. Janco is maybe 5'8" so I could see over him with no problem as we tracked thru the bush. He would hold one arm behind his his back to signal me to stay, stop, duck, etc. More than once I bumped into him because I was watching ahead instead of his hand.

We took several shooting positions, but either couldn't get a clear lane, or the wrong animal would block the shot. Sometimes Jill would trail with us, taking pictures and stretching her legs. After a few days, I'll embarrassingly admit our legs were a bit sore from climbing in and out of the high rack, trekking and squatting to glass.




We picked up the kudu group from the truck again. This time we could see only females and a small male about 100 yards off in seemingly impenetrable thorns. Then the big bull stepped out. Janco tapped the top of his shoulder, wanting me to rest the rifle there. I obliged and needed no prodding when he hissed, "Shoot!" I put the crosshair right at the top of the front leg and let fly. The females scattered in a flash and the bull whirled but couldn't follow. Within seconds he was down. Holy smokes, did that just happen?



Brian cut a path to the bull with his matchete. He was dripping sweat by the time we reached him. The kudu lay on his side brilliantly in the morning sun, with a single bright red dot on his shoulder where the bullet had impacted. I was somewhat overcome and distracted myself by taking pictures and trying to take it all in.




After Brian cleared the area of thorns, we got the bull up into position for pictures. The offside shoulder showed a similar hole--we would recover no TSX on this trip. After possibly a 100 pictures, Brian hacked a path in for the truck. With the tailgate down, a well-used 3500 pound winch was looped around the rear hocks. With Jill running the winch, we got the rear half up on the tailgate, then lifting the front half we soon had animal #1, and my top priority, in the truck.




Sitting in the truck on the way back to the ranch, Jill and I looked at each other in silence. I know she isn't a rifle/hunting looney like me, but I think she could appreciate how special this was.



We stopped at the skinning shed to unload the kudu. There was already evidence of the other hunters' morning success. I didn't keep track of what all they took on this trip, but know that it included Wildebeest, blesbok, giraffe, eland, warthog, sable, steenbok and monkeys. David loves impala and between he and Caleb, I think they shot nine.

Brian stayed to help process the game. One skinner stayed there all the time, but the other trackers all pitched in. Watching them hoist, skin and process an animal the size of my kudu bull in minutes was remarkable. The main skinner had a box full of knives he kept sharp on a rock about the size of a football. He also used a curved type of razor knife to zip around the legs.

The heads and skins were tagged with the hunter's number, mine was #59, and instructions for the type of mount were noted. I hadn't planned to do any shoulder mounts, but that went out the window in a hurry. Seeing that beautiful kudu cape and not knowing if or when I'd be back made the decision easy.

The meat went straight into the walk-in cooler and hung for our later enjoyment or sale to the local butcher.

The PH usually didn't want to stick around to see all of that hard work, so we would jump back into the truck and drive into camp. After washing up, we met for lunch. The camp chef, Herrke, was top notch and looked the part. Meat was the main theme, but he provided plenty of potatoes, vegetables, and salads to keep us satisfied.



After lunch we would usually snooze for an hour or so. I spent a lot of time reviewing pictures and cussing the new camera we had brought. The touch screen was glitchy and it would start acting like you were messing with the auto-focus or other settings. Needless to say, it's getting returned when we get home. I think the pictures we did take with it will be OK, and we took a ton with our phones, as well.



At 3:00, we were back in the truck with the cooler topped off with frozen bottles of water keeping cokes and other drinks cold. Janco was a fan of orange soda. We returned to the property where we had sighted our rifles earlier in the day.

There are large orange orchards in this area, and the ranchers utilize tons of byproducts from the processing plant. Basically tons of peels, etc are spread out on some of these farms to supplement feed. Needless to say, the animals love it.

Soon we spotted a herd of about 50 blesbok out about 1000 yards, in one of the few places we could see that far. Most were on their feet and milling around. As we approached closer, they all got up and antsy. Janco knew which male he wanted me to shoot, but it took about 10 minutes for me to locate it, make sure it was the right one, and actually get it in a shootable position clear of the others. "Shoot," bang, done. The 280AI at about 300 yards performed perfectly.



Loading the blesbok was much easier and we were soon hunting again. At the other end of the farm, we ran across a family of giraffes. They weren't on my list, but they were sure fun to watch.




Toward evening on the return to the ranch, we spotted about 30 impala, with some good males in the bunch. Janco and I pursued on foot, and we had to squat low to be able to see under the acacia. From tree to tree we went while he sorted out the horns. I knelt and took hold of a solid branch for a rest.

Two males were together, constantly moving and changing position. They stopped for a moment, one broadside and one quartering on. "The one on the right, shoot." Bang, done. Maybe a bit much for impala, but the 160 TSX made short work, entering just forward of the onside shoulder and squarely out the other.

What beautiful animals! At the shot, Brian started the truck and brought Jill over to us. In the fading light, he cleared a spot with his machete and we took pictures and enjoyed the moment.



Back to the skinning shed, and the cooler was starting to fill up. The men greeted us with smiles and never outwardly seemed to tire of the work, although I'm sure it must have been taxing. I hope they are being paid fairly and treated well. We certainly tried to covey our appreciation.

Sitting around the fire that first night of hunting was special. The stars were out and the moon was nearly full, and beautifully orange. Janco, his dad and Jacquess recounted the stories of the day to each other in Afrikaans, pausing to interpret for us occasionally to explain what was so funny.


We hit the sack and again hoped we could sleep. We really didn't feel "normal" until about the 4th or 5th day. Aside from the radical time difference, the sounds of Africa were difficult to tune out. Jackals, crickets and night birds were so fun to listen to, it was hard to sleep.

Day two proved Africa to be a fickle lover. After 3 animals in the salt the day before, we went sunrise to sunset without pulling the trigger. Not that there was nothing to shoot at, just not what we were after. "We have plenty of time," crossed our lips a lot that day.

In South-Africa, we found out a big part of the PH's work is arranging access to ranches and animals. Having found out I secretly wanted a gemsbok, Jaques did some calling around and found a promising property.

This is just the commercial reality of hunting here. Unlike in the USA, here the ranchers own the land AND the animals. To say the model has been successful would be a huge understatement. While the animal populations in the Limpopo have exploded from 2 million to 200 million since privatizing the industry, there is no getting around the transactional nature of the business.

On day 3, we headed about an hour south to the property that held gemsbok. We met the ranch owner and he gave us the lay of the land. He was in his early 70's and had been a PH guiding big 5 hunters earlier in his life.

Now he ran this large ranch, woodworking mill and raised various breeds of wildebeest, which he unabashedly tried to interest me in. But we were focused on the gemsbok. This was the least challenging of my African animals, and I know without ranches like this, gemsbok likely would not be found in this part of the country.

But we soon located a group of 3, and my Mauser finished its work in Africa. The beauty of these animals is off the charts, and this bull was spectacular to me in every way.



Day 4 we focused on warthogs, and we were able to spend the morning away from the truck sitting on a pond in the middle of a large ranch, surrounded by dense brush. I should have taken a very large male monkey that stuck around after the rest of his troop ran off, but I simply reveled in watching him sit on his butt, blue balls shining in the sun.

3 giraffe, and a warthog with only a tusk and a half and 3 young came to water. As did about 100 different kinds of birds. We gave the glass and cameras a workout, but returned for lunch empty handed.





That evening we again saw a lot of game, including some beautiful waterbuck. They started to tempt me sorely, but we kept hoping for a tusker, only to find pigs with small or no tusks.

On day 5, we headed further out to a farm owned by one of Janco's childhood friends. This place was unique in that the only fences we saw were low 4 strand fences we are used to seeing in the western USA. Janco explained that this was not a "hunting property," simply a working ranch that sometimes holds animals.

I had the Creedmoor out (finally!) much to the chagrin of Janco. He loved my Mauser but was skeptical of the little 6.5, apparently having had a few clients unwilling to accept its limitations. I promised to grab the bigger gun should anything substantial present itself.

As we approached a cultivated field, we stopped to glass and quickly spotted a few very small critters bedded right out in the middle. Steenbok! "Let's add one of these list." Easier said than done, I found out.

Once we were inside 500 yards, the little guys would jump up and burn it for cover. They stood shorter than even the short grass, so getting a shot was almost impossible.

Rounding a corner we got a break. Up ahead about 300 yards, we glassed a lone male bedded under a bush just at the field's edge. So tiny, but when I finally focused on his long parallel horns, I knew we had to try.

Janco said, "He's a good one, good luck with the creedmoor." I dialed the scope to 10X and knew I was dead on at 300. There was a good crosswind, so I held into it just a tad and bang, done. "That's a dead steenbok," Janco shouted. What a trophy and beautiful animal.




On the way home for lunch, I spotted a big pig in a dried pond bed as we drove by. He was gone when we turned around, but we decided to come back later that day. We approached the place from the other side about 4:00 pm. On our way across a short grass field, Janco spotted some pigs out in the distance under some acacia.

It was a warthog with good tusks on both sides and a couple of smaller pigs. I got set up and we spent about 10 minutes getting closer and sorting them out. About 280 yards out, I finally had a shot on the biggest. The ELD-X entered just in front of the shoulder and out low on the other side, but the pig stayed on its feet. Maybe Janco was right about the Creedmoor. "Shoot again!" This time I held a bit lower, thinking I must have hit high the first time. I shot the offside front leg with that one and then the chase was on. The big pig couldn't keep up with the others, and Janco cut her off and put in a finisher with his suppressed 30-06.

That evening, we came across another reality of Africa. We spotted a group of kudu females trailed by a young kudu bull. As I glassed him over, I noticed a strand of wire hanging to the ground from his neck. "It's a snare," Janco murmured. Every few steps, the bull would step on the wire, jerking his head down.

Janco phoned the land owner, and got permission to take care of it. We approached to within safe distance, and Janco ended the torment with a shot to the brain. We took the bull back to our skinning shed, but the meat will end up at the land owners. Janco explained that most of these snares are likely set by the farmer's own workers looking to supplement their diets.




Day 6. Sunday. We found a church in Mokopane and spent an hour worshipping with our African brothers and sisters. It was a great reminder that despite our differences, we are more alike than it would seem.



Our host arranged to take us all to a resort about an hour away. This was a side of Africa we hadn't seen yet. A Marriot associated facility, it was quite a sight to see Land Rovers, BMWs and Jaguars lined up in the parking lot, most of which were driven by upper crust black families. There is a definite class system in play, but apparently the good life is within reach of many.

Located on the massive property was a wildlife park. We boarded high six-wheeled army vehicles and were treated to a tour, where we saw a wide variety of animals. The biggest thrill came when we passed thru a double secure gate and into a pride of lion snoozing in the bush. A big male was feet away from me licking a freshly devoured cow skull clean.


We stopped to observe and suddenly a jealous female lion sprung from the grass attacking another female with a throaty roar. The male let out a resonating growl and chased both of them around the truck trying to restore order to the pride. I was excited to see lions, but I wasn't ready for that. They could have easily snatched me out of the truck seat--the park operators must be quite confident in the lions' willingness to behave!





After the tour, we feasted at a buffet that would rate 5 stars anywhere. Everything from sushi, soups, meats of every kind and a dessert spread to die for. Needless to say, we over-ate and enjoyed the day immensely. We didn't realize it would get even better the next day.



Day 7. Jacques' wife took our spouses to a local school where they distributed candy and toys, much to the kids' delight. They spent the rest of the day at a spa and shopping. Meanwhile, we hunters found ourselves back at the Resort/Lion Park.

Today, however, the parking lot was empty and we had the place to ourselves. Our host had arranged to give us the run of the place and do some cull/herd thinning. I don't exactly know how it was negotiated, but we were offered a full gamut of game for fractions of normal safari pricing. African capitalism at work again, I suppose.

The catch was that we couldn't shoot anything deemed "trophy" status, and we were limited to using our PH's suppressed rifles at ranges no greater than 150 yards. "OK with us, let's go!" I accompanied Riley and Tezlin and watched the son dispatch 4 female impala and a giant tusked warthog.

Perhaps the best moments came when Janco's dad decided he wanted an eland. Despite both being professional hunters, Janco and his dad related they rarely got to hunt together, and the last picture they had together on a kill was when Janco was 6 years old.

We found the eland, 4 bulls together, and I watched as Janco the son tried to get Jonnie the dad into shooting position. The bulls moved off again and I saw Janco tap his shoulder where Jonnie promptly rested the rifle. Pffft! At the shot, all 4 bulls shot into the thick scrub while Jonnie got another shot off, resulting in a sharp slap as the slug hit home. With the bulls still running, Janco grabbed the rifle and sprinted to an opening, much like he had done with my warthog. He delivered the finisher and the bull tipped over about 50 yards on.

It was great to see the smiles and gratitude on these mens' faces as they finally got to appear in a hunting picture at the same time. By the way, eland bulls are giant!



Periodically we would circle with loaded trucks back to the park skinning shed where our skinners from camp were waiting. They had a very busy day.

Despite the great pricing, I limited my shooting to a zebra stallion. We found a group of 6 and closed the distance. Janco's rifle was a 30-06 Savage with disabled safety and ammo of questionable origin. I asked permission to take a proper shoulder shot and Janco said, "Why not, everything you shoot at dies quickly."

I made sure we were looking at the same male, waited for the shot to present and let it fly. Tezlin had his phone out and recorded the dust flying off the animal as the bullet buckled the knees of the zebra. And then it was off and running after the others.

But when we found them in another opening in the bush, they were short one member and one in particular was looking back from whence they came. We knew what that meant and were quickly at my trophy.

Such a striking animal, and I didn't realize they're much more than simply black and white. This male had a copper shimmer and beautiful mane. I was more than pleased.



Before we were finished, the other group had taken a few more impala and another big pig (somehow mine was now the smallest in camp!). We were home in time for one more evening hunt. David, the impala lover, and I found a big one and he and Janco stayed on him until dark, but couldn't get it to come together.

I stayed at the truck with Brian, and we talked about his wife and children in Zimbabwe, the beauties and sadnesses of life and Africa as the sun set for our last time in Limpopo. I tried to take it all in but failed miserably.



Today is go home day. And as I sit in a here in a plane jotting these notes down, I somewhat wish I'd been doing it all week. But then, it would have stolen precious minutes from an experience I hope to relive many more times.


The flight from Johannesburg to Atlanta seemed much shorter than on the way over. Possibly because we left in the evening, and flew all night with the sun not catching us until Georgia. Now on our way to Utah, I look forward to seeing my family, catching up on work and getting back to the real world. But I won't be wholly there, a piece of me is in a land far away. Waiting for me.

Congratulations on a wonderful hunt and memories to draw you back to Africa.
Great photographs and a beautifully written tale that took me along with you on your trip.

Thanks so much for sharing!

I really enjoyed reading that and looking over your pictures. You did a great job with the story as well. Congrats on some fantastic animals, and I am very partial to big kudu bulls and gemsbok. Yours look fantastic. Congrats on a great trip, and thanks for posting.

That was a GREAT read. Thank you.
Bob

Congratulations on an awesome adventure sir. Thank you for sharing your report and great photos.

+1

Looks like you'd it up right for your first trip!

Very, very nice, heck of a write up report and photos, all these threads sure make my heart hurt, I miss that place dearly.

Great account and photos - thanks for sharing! Congrats on a great hunt.

Well done, all around!

Awesome! Excellent story telling and great photos. Well done!

As a hunter, I certainly don't mind seeing pictures of dead critters with tongues hanging out, blood etc.

However, I enjoy the pictures even more if effort is put into posing, camera angle, etc.

Your photos are WAY above average -- professional quality.

Most of your animals look alive in your pictures!!

Very well done, I'm looking forward to more!

John

Very nice write up and great photos.



Bob.

Awesome report and pictures! Thanks for taking the time to do so.

Dave