This is a soup to nuts story, including travel.
I opted for Qatar, booked through Gracy Travel, over any domestic carriers for reasons I've specified all over the place here. We left IAH on the 17th, with a layover in Doha, arriving at JNB on the 19th. The UA EWR -> JNB flight on the 17th ended up getting canceled, and the EWR -> JNB flight on the 18th was delayed by 3 or 4 hours. Apparently, there were 7 or 8 hunters on the flight on the 18th. Every single one of them discovered after they'd arrirved at JNB that their rifles had been left at EWR, including my best friend Steve's. The SAPS people had nothing at all kind to say about UA or Delta - among other things "always late."
We were greeted at the gate by Gracy's people, escorted down to luggage and handed us off to Bruce, another Gracy rep. Very friendly guy, he escorted us over to SAPS. The missus had to go to the powder room, and by the time she got out, we were already done with SAPS and had to wait for her outside the lady's room. Yeah, it was that fast. They opened my case, compared SNs on my rifles to their paperwork, and we were out the door.
Twenty minutes later, we were checking in to Africa Sky. For very good reasons, it's a popular 1 or 2 day stop-over on the way out to the boonies. The food and wine are excellent, the bar is an "honor bar" - serve yourself, then log what you drink.
The lounge next to the dining room is cozy, with large, over-stuffed sofas. Jo'burg is just shy of 6k ft elevation, and sitting in front of the wood-burning stove was nice place to unwind with book and libation in hand.
We (the missus and my friend Steve) departed Africa Sky at about 0900 on the 21st, with about a 4 hour drive to Limcroma's "3 Rivers" camp - about a mile from the Crocodile River, and another mile from there it feeds into the Limpopo river. 3 Rivers is probably about 2 miles east of the Botswana border.
(for the very detail-oriented nerds out there) - Circled in red is the HQ for the Limcroma operations, the pin is the 3 Rivers camp. They have 2 other camps, Sable Valley and Buffalo Bush, about 15 minutes north of the pin. Sable Valley and Buffalo Bush are right next to each other, we hunted all 3, plus a few other places no more than 20 minutes' drive from camp.
Day 1:
We got settled in, ate a nice lunch, then on to the range. I shot my 6.5x55 first, 2 shots, dead nuts on at 100M. My 9.3x62 has QD rings, and I'd detached the scope so my rifles would more easily fit in my 2-gun Pelican. I brought 30 rounds for each rifle, and I started getting worried with my 9.3. I'd dialed it in at 1" high at 50 yards (giving myself about a 150 yard zero) the Sunday before we left. It took me a dozen shots to get it re-zeroed at camp. With only 18 left, and having heard how much lead African game can soak up, I was more than a little nervous (though as you'll see, my trepidation was unwarranted).
Hunting ammo.
9.3x62 - 286 gr A Frame @2475 fps
6.5x55 Swede - 160 gr Woodleigh Weldcore
@2400 fps
Rifles
Zastava M70 9.3x62
Tikka T3X 6.5x55
both left hand.
The eye doc says Shannon is right eye dominant. Franco says absolutely she's left eye dominant.
Steve had to rent a camp rifle, a 30-06. Steve and I have been hunting and reloading together for going on 20 years now. I'm a better shot than he, but he's no slouch. The camp rifle was also dead on at 100M, but Steve was struggling, took him maybe 10 or 12 shots before he figured out the trigger and deal with the low cheek rest.
All ready to go, Franco (my PH, dude is a total rock star), the missus, and I headed out about 1530. After a few unsuccessful stalks on zebra and wildebeest, we found a nice bull at about 1750, grazing with a zebra. The zebra wasn't a shooter, but the wildebeest certainly was. Only being the 2 of them there and the sun was fading, it was a fairly easy stalk to about 60 yards. I shot a little high with the 9.3, spined him. He went down, thrashing for a few minutes, I put an insurance shot in him and that was that. I'm a fan of organ meat, so I had the skinners save both the liver and the heart, which we ate a couple days later. I highly recommend the liver - milder flavor than calf liver but with texture closer to venison liver.
Day 2
While the mornings are chilly - we were in the 40s every morning - once the sun comes up, it warms up in a hurry. We were in the upper 80s or low 90s every afternoon. Long pants afford better protection from the thorns, but aren't worth it, at least not to me. So after day 2, I ended up going out in shorts every day, with some camo insulated rain pants over my shorts until it was time to get out and walk-and-stalk.
If you want to draw blood in Africa, you must first offer her some of yours. Thorns are definitely a thing, but the steel grass bites as hard and as often, especially when you've got to get down on hands and knees.
Neither the missus nor I slept particularly well that night - I was still in the clouds for having gotten my wildebeest so early and didn't fall asleep until about 0200, then up again at 0600. The missus slept in that day and went on the afternoon hunt with Steve and his PH, Kenny. Even when we only go to Europe, it takes her a couple days to get sorted out between sleep, flight dehydration, and so forth.
Franco, our tracker Elvik, and I headed out early to a neighboring property in search of Zebra. Boy was it a bad day for zebra. A front had moved in overnight, and we were dealing with swirling wind all day on day 2, and for about half the day on day 3. Anyway, we gut busted time after time after time stalking zebra, and I didn't see much but zebra back sides enveloped in dust clouds all day long. IDK how many miles we walked on Day 2, but it was a bunch.
Finally, as the sun began to wane, we saw a nice impala ram (just a skosh under 22") in a clearing, stalked to within about 80 yards of him, set up the sticks, and my 6.5x55 worked its usual magic, with a single shot. The ram jumped, staggered in a 20 or 30 yard circle, then came to rest almost on the exact spot I shot him.
Day 3:
The wind and clouds were worse on day three. We couldn't find anything moving at all until shortly before noon. A nice,
old warthog popped out from the bush at about 30 yards and had the good graces to pose broadside for about 20 seconds. Franco noticed he was missing his cutters on one side, so we took a pass on him. I was a little frustrated, but Franco knows what he's doing. Not 30 minutes later, he spotted a herd of zebra. That was a tough stalk, as there was a pretty big herd of impala near them, with loads of acacia brush and steel grass between the zebras and where we needed to be. We did a lot of duck walking, bending over, crawling on hands and knees to get to a good shooting position. The thorns weren't too horrible on this stalk, but the steel grass was everywhere.
Completely unaware of us, this mare struck a broadside pose for us, had to be a minute or so, and dropped her with 1 shot from the 9.3 from maybe 130 yards. The bullet hit her in the right triangle, and exited just below the left triangle. She crashed after about 10 or 15 yards, then ran another 40 or 50 yards to her final resting place. After only about 20 or 30 minutes of brush cutting, we were finally able to drive the bakkie up to her. For those who've not yet been to Africa, every tree/shrub in this pic's background is covered in thorns. This is known as "normal" everywhere in the bushveld. Don't let it deter you - earn your battle scars and your right to hunt beautiful animals like this zebra. I can't wait to see this rug in my house.
Day 4:
A very early day, Franco, Elvik and I (the missus likes her sleep time) left camp at about 0600 in search of blesbok. They are abundant on the 3 Rivers property of Limcroma, so we took the bakkie perhaps a mile north of camp, got out, and started walking. It didn't take long to find the blesbok. We got busted pretty quickly with the first herd, but it didn't take long to find another.
After a short and easy stalk, Franco got me set up pretty quickly for about a 150 yard shot on a nice ram, which I completely missed. I *NEVER* miss with my 6.5 Swede. I'm blaming the miss on a stick or twig I didn't see, it certainly couldn't have been me.
Anyway, and of course, the whole herd took off running to our right, but they didn't run far enough. A couple more minutes of stalking, and I had this ram on the ground by bout 0700, another 150-ish yard shot. Not a lot of brush in this background, but for you Americans who grew up ag, that ain't bahia or alfalfa right behind me, it's steel grass. It isn't as bad as all the acacia (Latin for "thorn," btw), but it definitely isn't your friend, either. Everything in Africa wants to bite you, including the flora.
This ram is such I beautiful chocolate color, I decided to get a rug made out of his hide as well. It'll make a nice throw for the back of the sofa in what the missus is now calling our trophy room - right next to my office.
More on day 4.
I bought Limcroma's "Couple's package," which includes a 2 hour massage at the spa in the Sable Valley camp. We went back to 3 Rivers camp, ate breakfast, got cleaned up, then headed over to Sable Valley. I wanted a deep tissue massage. My masseuse obliged as best she could, but I was snoring before she finished my right leg. I kept waking myself up with the snoring and enjoyed the massage, but the missus, my masseuse, and her masseuse all got a good laugh out of it. Iyamwhatiyam.
Yet more on day 4, after the massage.
A sunset from a high observation tower on the Buffalo Bush property, complete with biltong and other snacks, plus adult libations.
This mountain is across the river in Botswana, perhaps 2 or 3 miles distant.
When the sun decides to rest for the day, it does so in a hurry.
We went from this...
To this...
To this...
In no more than 5 minutes.
Day 5:
Part of the couples' package is a day trip to Pilanesburg park, about halfway between Limcroma and Jo'burg.
We got treated to this little beauty just outside the park gates, trying to alight on the side view mirror. I believe this is called a sugar bird, a species of hummingbird.
We got to see 6 of the Big 7 while in the park. The only thing we didn't see was a leopard.
A young mother with her calf.
I got a pic of the matriarch, but from a distance. She was enormous.
We also saw a pair of lionesses, this is the best pic I could get (she's collared)
We also saw a nice dagga boy, nearly a scrum cap, but I just couldn't get a decent picture of him.
More day 5.
We left Pilanesburg shortly after noon, and were nearly back to camp when Franco asked me if I wanted to hunt this afternoon. In my mind, I'm thinking "RUFKM???" but answered "oh most definitely." Franco chuckled, looked at the missus and said "a real hunter, that's the answer I wanted to hear."
The only animal I had left in my package was Pumba. We'd seen plenty, but they are just so hit or miss, we decided to go sit in a ground blind about 100 yards off the Crocodile River. We got settled in around 1600, didn't see anything except a couple vervets until about 1730 when a sow strolled in with her 2 shoats. About 15 minutes later, another sow shows up to join in the festivities. About another 15 minutes later and a boar finally shows up, hangs out for about 20 or 30 seconds, then leaves. "Well," I sez to my self, "that was disappointing. Oh well, 2 more days." About 5 or 10 minutes later (if you're keeping track, it's about 1815 at this point), same boar decides to come back. IDK how he saw us, but he kept looking our way - it wasn't the wind, it was crossing the path between us and the warthogs. Anyway, he kept looking at us and looking at us, finally decided we weren't interesting and gave me a broadside with really not more than about 30 - 60 seconds of shooting light left.
My 6.5 Swede rang out, and this stinker was ready for his dirt nap. This pic is on a high bank about 20 feet above the Crocodile River.
Headed back to camp, Franco asks "anything else you want to hunt?" since my package was complete. "Yes," sez I, "let's go over to Buffalo Bush tomorrow and see if we can get a nice cow buff."
So on to...
Day 6:
We left camp at about 0800, then lots of walking, lots of glassing, lots of road-brushing....
We finally run across a herd of bachelors, with a massive bull in it. I asked Franco "42+ inches"? and he says "yeah, plus a lot, maybe 46 or a little bigger." I didn't get the pic of him, the missus did, and she's not up yet so I'll post it when I can later in this thread.
By now, the sun is nearly at its meridian height, so we head back to 3 Rivers for lunch and a little cooling off. We returned to Buffalo Bush at about 3, with lots more driving, walking, and glassing. We dropped off Elvik to beat the bush and see what he can see, so Franco got behind the wheel. We hadn't gone a quarter mile when I tapped the roof. I'd spotted a buff (though it could have been a sable, lots of them in this area) in some really thick stuff maybe a couple hundred yards away. Franco got out, couldn't see it from the ground, I had him back up about 10 yards, he climbed up next to me in the back and sees it immediately. "Good spot, sir, definitely a buff." I had told him on day 1 that my dad's name is "sir," but he's very formal and continued addressing me as "sir" and the missus as "ma'am."
It's on like donkey kong. She's bedded down in some REALLY thick brush, and all we can see is her backside and she's facing to the right, so we still don't know if it's a cow or bull until we get fairly close and Franco can tell by its size it's a cow. More low crawling, more acacia, more steel grass. Franco sets up the sticks about 30 yards from her. He whispers to me "I'm going to grunt to get her to stand...be ready to shoot."
Back up a little bit. Where we were was probably no more than a kilometer from the Buffalo Bush camp. Now back to the quickly whispered convo...no sooner had he whispered that he's going to grunt to get her to stand, as in literally just a second or 2 later, than somebody at camp starts sighting in their rifle. She immediately stood up, swung to my left, and I squeezed off the shot on a quartering away at perhaps 30º. I was aiming for just behind her shoulder, but didn't lead quite enough and ended up putting the shot through her ribs. Franco never once had to tell me to reload the whole time we were hunting, and this was no exception, I had a new round chambered in half a second, but she was already out of sight. As luck would have it, that was perfect shot placement at that angle. We heard her crash about 10 seconds later, then gave her death bellow another 10 or 15 seconds after that.
Pure lung blood here.
The 286 gr A Frame at just short of a chrony'd 2500 fps did its job, though it didn't exit, and we didn't recover it. She was an old grandma, solo cow, you can see her worn tip in this pic.
Franco and me.
I'm going to get the taxidermist to make as many rifle cases out of her hide as I can. I'm hoping there are 4 good rifle cases to be made.
Day 7:
Well, even though she isn't a huntress, by now the missus has decided she wants in on the action. I told Franco I wanted to put her on a 22"+ impala. After being pretty impressive at the range with my 6.5 Swede, we head out to a watering hole to get her impala. She has seen the pedestal mount of a zebra that Franco's wife had shot some years back, so on the way out, she decides she'd really rather get a zebra. I was a little concerned about the small caliber, but Franco was satisfied.
We're not in the blind 20 minutes when a herd of 4 zebra show up at the hole, not more than 80 yards distant - the stallion presents a nice broadside. She settles in, gets relaxed, squeezes off what looked like a good shot, but turned out to be a little behind the triangle. No bueno. We spent all day tracking him, and never recovered him. Bummer. She's disappointed, but not discouraged. She's ready to go back next year and get her a zebra. She says that's all she wants, but if my friend Steve is any indication for somebody who didn't want to go in the first place, and the missus was not all that enthused about going either, I know she's going to want her own wildebeest, impala, blesbok, etc.
Honestly, I feel like that wounded zebra was my fault. I pushed harder for her to go out with a rifle than I should have when she wasn't really ready. Lesson learned.
We stopped by a sporting goods store in Pretoria on the way to the airport, but they didn't have any Rhinos. Oh well. I'll pick up some North Fork 175s for my LH 280 AI at Reloading International when they show up.
If you want a spiral horn slam, Limcroma is a good place to do it - massive cape eland, lots of really nice southern kudu, loads of nyala, and down by the Crocodile River, just covered up in bushbuck.
The PHs are all amazing cats - Franco is the top dog, but Jan, Ryan, Kenny, John...just all superb.
Word of warning for bow hunters, though. I haven't played with bows in years upon years, but I know "old and outdated" when I see it. Most of the other hunters in camp with us (arrived a day after we did) were bow hunters. They've all hunted with Limcroma multiple times, but this was a bad trip for them. I lost count of the number of bad shots they took as a group, but there were several wounded animals that got away. Anyway, Steve and I got to looking at their bows, and were like "WTF???". This stuff was state of the art maybe 20 years ago - the bows themselves, the rests, the pins. And we're talking about hunters who were bragging about the money they've spent on taxidermy in the last 10 or 15 years going to Limcroma.
Franco and Kenny both are going to be taking a long look from here on out at the archery equipment hunters are bringing. I'd bet there wasn't a bow in camp that was capable of anything better than 250 fps. That said, 400 fps wouldn't have made up for the poor shooting, but newer rests and sights might have.
To each his own, but I absolutely don't get going to Africa with archery equipment. The beauty of hunting there, for me anyway, is the bloody difficult conditions presented by stalking through miles of thorns and steel grass, to get busted, and to try again and again and again. Sitting in a ground blind waiting for a trophy to amble up within bow range...I just don't get it. I really don't give 2 shits if I never even come close to any SCI records. The brutal stalking is my trophy, the wall-hangers are just a reminder of what it took to get to a good shooting position for them.
