M. Horst
New member
Background
In January of 2022, I was approximately eight months away from a hunting adventure that had already been on the calendar for well over a year—Kamchatka Brown Bear. By then I had read every book I could find on the matter, albeit a short list of reading, and assembled a gear list, including a few new purchases, most notably a rifle in a caliber suitable for efficiently dispatching meat-eating mammals upward of 1,500 pounds. Because of my love for African safari hunting, I naturally went with a .375 H&H. About the time my gear really started coming together in February of 2022, thousands of Putin’s tanks were lining up along the eastern border of Ukraine. We all know what happened next, and by March of 2022, it became obvious that Kamchatka was not in the cards for the year. I should note that, according to the Outfitter, travel to far east Russia was still possible. However, despite my obsession with bear hunting and the fact that I had already wired a significant deposit, becoming the next Brittney Greiner was of little interest to me.
Fast forward to July of 2022, a good friend of mine who has been my PH on four former safaris called to catch up. Through the conversation I learned of several new concessions that he is hunting, all of which are loaded with Buffalo. I got off the phone and called one of my hunting buddies, Jon, who was also booked for Kamchatka, and plans were made.
Getting There
This was my first trip back to the Dark Continent since COVID, and many of the flights I had become accustomed to over the past decade had changed. We ended up taking a direct flight from Newark to Cape Town. In comparison to JNB, Cape Town International is quite small, and getting through customs and the obligatory stop at SAPS was no big deal. We were collected by my good friend Patrick Cairns and his partner Stephan van der Marwe and drove around four hours to George where we rested for the night. The next morning, we left the coast and drove north into the Karoo Dessert. We made a pit stop along main street in Graaf Reinet for some cigars and bill tong before driving another hour or so to camp.
The closer we got to camp the reality that we were on safari was taking hold, and it was exhilarating to be back. As we drove through the concession on our way to the lodge I was thrilled with the quantity and variety of game we were seeing.
We arrived at the lodge at Glen Harry Game Reserve in midafternoon, we unloaded our gear, and were shown our rooms. My room was far too nice to be there without my wife. We quickly organized our gear, hastily ate a late lunch, and shot the rifles. Everything traveled well, and thankfully no adjustments were needed. Time to hunt.
Buffalo
The primary target species for both Jon and me was buffalo, and we wasted no time getting started. We had no luck the first afternoon, but saw plenty of other game including Impala, Waterbuck, Sable and a very large herd of Eland. It was tempting to go after other game, but we decided to stay focused on the main thing.
The next morning, we got up early and decided to check another area in the concession for buffalo. Throughout the morning we periodically stopped the truck to glass for buff. Hours in, we sat on top of a thick river bottom. The camp manager as well as my PH were convinced that there had to be buff in the bush a half a mile or so in the dense bush of the river below us. “Buffalo!” someone hissed in a thick South African accent. At our 10:00, a lone bull appeared from the thick bush a few thousand yards below us. We watched him for quite some time, and other buffalo began to materialize out of the bush.
There were five bulls all together, and they were spread out across 100 yards or so along the river. We knew it was too thick to attempt a stalk down there, and not knowing if any of the bulls were hard, we watched and we waited. After some time, the bulls decided that they had had enough of the river bottom, and they slowly started feeding up the hill across from us. “Let’s go now!”, said my PH. We made a large circle, crossed the river, and picked a line that we thought would intercept us with the buffalo, which were presumably feeding up the opposite side of the same hill we were now climbing, but out of our sight.
It had been at 45 minutes or so since we had last seen the small herd, but we were fairly confident on where they were headed, so with the wind in our faces, we got in position and waited. The hill dropped off below me relatively quickly, so my maximum field of view was 75 yards or so. Then, after a short wait, a black horizontal line of hair appeared where the hill dropped off to my left, and I could see it slowly quartering in our direction. Sticks up. Rifle up. Metal checklist complete. I tell myself to calm down, take a few calculated deep breaths and quietly mutter to myself, “don’t screw this up.”
The first bull notices us and stares us down for a solid minute. I’m watching him through the scope, and while he’s still soft, I savor the moment that I’m now 50 yards from an animal that, given the opportunity, could easily return me to the African dirt from where humanity came. I watch his nostrils flair attempting in vain to pick up any traces of danger. He settles down and keeps feeding in our direction. The second bull appears, then the third and the fourth. All soft. They are all big bodied, thick animals, and I admire the definition of their massive shoulder muscles flexing under their black coats as they feed up the hill in our direction. I’m now 55 yards from four giant cape buffalo bulls with no bush between us, no tree to climb up in, and only God knows how far from the truck. At this moment my endocrine system is concocting a wild mix of terror and elation and dumping excessive amounts of the stuff into my bloodstream. “Just keep breathing, and don’t mess this up”, I tell myself.
They were far too close for any of us to talk, or move, or communicate in any way. “Weren’t there five bulls together?” Where the hell is fifth?”, I think to myself. All four continue feeding to my left when suddenly a big bull appears, taking up the back. I slowly shit positions and clasp the shooting stick and the far end of the stock with my left hand. My safety is already off, and Patrick whispers, “shoot that bull”.
The bull is completely broadside with his head down. I float the illuminated red dot on the top of the shoulder and start to squeeze when the bull takes another step as he feeds. I reset my shot cycle and settle the dot again. Deep breath in, slow breath out, and slowly squeeze. The recoil of the rifle sets me back and I cycle another round immediately. Before I can get back on him, I see him falling. He goes down, and within seconds it’s over.
The four smaller bulls initially ran away, but then quickly hung a sharp U-turn and ran back toward us, presumably to assist their fallen comrade. We all lined up shouting and waiving our hands in the air like crazy people. Of course, with the levels of adrenaline pumping through our veins, acting crazy came quite naturally. The stand of lasted for quite some time, but eventually the younger bulls resolved to defeat and moved along.
We approached my bull with caution, but he was stone dead. Amazingly, the 300 grains of Barnes copper was all it took, and the bull ran exactly 21 yards before falling, unable to get up again, ultimately dead in a matter of seconds. Standing over the buff, it all seems surreal, and in the moment, I realize how fortunate I am to be living out a childhood dream on the opposite side of the planet from where I was born.
Other Hunting
After my buff was down, the pressure was off for me. From here forward, anything can happen on this trip, and I will be a happy client. Kudu is always on my list, and we looked over quite a few, but didn’t see any bulls worth taking. For the past several safaris I have wanted a big Eland, but never previously got within shooting distance of a proper bull. This trip was different, and we found a beautiful bull at last light several days into the hunt. The shot was too far for my comfort zone with the .375, and not wanting to wound the big bull, I decided not to shoot. I could tell the trackers weren’t happy, but I would rather pass on an opportunity than chase a wounded Eland around for days, which is something I have experienced firsthand while hunting with friends on former safaris. The PH wasn’t confident that we would find the bull again, but amazingly we found him the next day a few miles away from where he was the day before. I shot him off the sticks at 190 yards with a high heart shot and he was down in seconds.
Halfway through the hunt we moved camps to get my buddy Jon a buffalo. We moved up into the Free State to a farm called Sandy Mount. Jon hunted a beautiful mature buffalo our first night in camp after a lengthy stalk. He too dropped his buff with one well-placed shot from his .375 H&H.
The rest of our time at Sandy Mount we shot cull warthogs, and on the last evening, I connected with a beautiful Red Hartebeest bull, which is a species that I’ve wanted to hunt for quite some time.
Conclusion
Every time I hunt in Africa, I leave thinking that my latest safari was my best safari. This trip was no different, and the only dynamic that could have improved the trip would have been sharing the adventure with my wife or daughter (South Africa is perfect for this).
Glen Harry Game Reserve was among my favorite concessions that I have hunted in the Eastern Cape. It’s mountainous, vast, and the game is relaxed and abundant. The accommodations were clean, comfortable, and very “African” (thatched roofs, optional outdoor showers, etc.). All interactions with the staff were curious and professional, and the food was top notch. In advance, I specifically requested that we eat venison each night, and they accommodated my request. Throughout our stay we ate Buffalo (which was surprisingly delicious), Sable, Kudu, Gemsbuck, and Eland (the Eland Carpaccio from the bull I took was especially memorable). Another highlight of the trip was a tour of the property’s Bushman petroglyphs, some of which are estimated to be 10,000+ years old. One specific petroglyph was of a massive tusker elephant, and it’s believed that thousands of years back, vast herds of elephants migrated through the valley on an annual basis. The thought that 10,000 years or so back another hunter was sitting on the same rock as me, overlooking the same valley for his quarry, is just incredible. In the context of human history, it wasn’t that far back that all of our ancestors were hunting the same game as me with sharp sticks—it sure makes whacking a buff with a .375 seem like cheating.
Sandy Mount was also a great experience. The terrain was more mountainous that I expected for the Free State, and the quantity of game (especially grazers) was mind boggling. There were times that we looked over hundreds of head of game from one location. The quality and quantity of buffalo was also quite impressive. I will also add that the food alone at Sandy Mount was worth the trip.
Another highlight of the trip was bringing two close friends who experienced Africa for the first time. Jon had so much fun that he flew his wife over and doubled the length of his safari after I left camp. Jon and his wife hunted another big buff and shot some other great trophies. My other buddy, Josh, had no intention of hunting and was content to observe only, but ultimately couldn’t resist the fun of culling a few warthogs.
My gear performed flawlessly, and with the exception of my Hartebeest (notice the many holes), I was happy with my shooting. I never saw a big Kudu bull that I wanted to shoot, but leaving Africa with an unfulfilled desire is something I’ve come to value.
Without hesitation, I would highly recommend Bushmans Quiver Safaris. I have always been thrilled with the adventure and the quality of game taken on my safaris with them. More than the hunting, the Owners, Patrick & Stephan, are the kind of men that any hunter would benefit from knowing.
Ultimately, this trip was the perfect substitution hunt. I once again left Africa with a deeper sense of appreciation for the places, the people, and the game. It never ceases to amaze me that we live in an era of human history in which you can leave the comforts of your home in America, board a flight or two, and wake up the next morning to find yourself stalking one of the Big 5 in the African Bush. It’s truly unbelievable, and in my opinion, one of the greatest adventures on the planet.
Thanks for reading.
In January of 2022, I was approximately eight months away from a hunting adventure that had already been on the calendar for well over a year—Kamchatka Brown Bear. By then I had read every book I could find on the matter, albeit a short list of reading, and assembled a gear list, including a few new purchases, most notably a rifle in a caliber suitable for efficiently dispatching meat-eating mammals upward of 1,500 pounds. Because of my love for African safari hunting, I naturally went with a .375 H&H. About the time my gear really started coming together in February of 2022, thousands of Putin’s tanks were lining up along the eastern border of Ukraine. We all know what happened next, and by March of 2022, it became obvious that Kamchatka was not in the cards for the year. I should note that, according to the Outfitter, travel to far east Russia was still possible. However, despite my obsession with bear hunting and the fact that I had already wired a significant deposit, becoming the next Brittney Greiner was of little interest to me.
Fast forward to July of 2022, a good friend of mine who has been my PH on four former safaris called to catch up. Through the conversation I learned of several new concessions that he is hunting, all of which are loaded with Buffalo. I got off the phone and called one of my hunting buddies, Jon, who was also booked for Kamchatka, and plans were made.
Getting There
This was my first trip back to the Dark Continent since COVID, and many of the flights I had become accustomed to over the past decade had changed. We ended up taking a direct flight from Newark to Cape Town. In comparison to JNB, Cape Town International is quite small, and getting through customs and the obligatory stop at SAPS was no big deal. We were collected by my good friend Patrick Cairns and his partner Stephan van der Marwe and drove around four hours to George where we rested for the night. The next morning, we left the coast and drove north into the Karoo Dessert. We made a pit stop along main street in Graaf Reinet for some cigars and bill tong before driving another hour or so to camp.
The closer we got to camp the reality that we were on safari was taking hold, and it was exhilarating to be back. As we drove through the concession on our way to the lodge I was thrilled with the quantity and variety of game we were seeing.
We arrived at the lodge at Glen Harry Game Reserve in midafternoon, we unloaded our gear, and were shown our rooms. My room was far too nice to be there without my wife. We quickly organized our gear, hastily ate a late lunch, and shot the rifles. Everything traveled well, and thankfully no adjustments were needed. Time to hunt.
Buffalo
The primary target species for both Jon and me was buffalo, and we wasted no time getting started. We had no luck the first afternoon, but saw plenty of other game including Impala, Waterbuck, Sable and a very large herd of Eland. It was tempting to go after other game, but we decided to stay focused on the main thing.
The next morning, we got up early and decided to check another area in the concession for buffalo. Throughout the morning we periodically stopped the truck to glass for buff. Hours in, we sat on top of a thick river bottom. The camp manager as well as my PH were convinced that there had to be buff in the bush a half a mile or so in the dense bush of the river below us. “Buffalo!” someone hissed in a thick South African accent. At our 10:00, a lone bull appeared from the thick bush a few thousand yards below us. We watched him for quite some time, and other buffalo began to materialize out of the bush.
There were five bulls all together, and they were spread out across 100 yards or so along the river. We knew it was too thick to attempt a stalk down there, and not knowing if any of the bulls were hard, we watched and we waited. After some time, the bulls decided that they had had enough of the river bottom, and they slowly started feeding up the hill across from us. “Let’s go now!”, said my PH. We made a large circle, crossed the river, and picked a line that we thought would intercept us with the buffalo, which were presumably feeding up the opposite side of the same hill we were now climbing, but out of our sight.
It had been at 45 minutes or so since we had last seen the small herd, but we were fairly confident on where they were headed, so with the wind in our faces, we got in position and waited. The hill dropped off below me relatively quickly, so my maximum field of view was 75 yards or so. Then, after a short wait, a black horizontal line of hair appeared where the hill dropped off to my left, and I could see it slowly quartering in our direction. Sticks up. Rifle up. Metal checklist complete. I tell myself to calm down, take a few calculated deep breaths and quietly mutter to myself, “don’t screw this up.”
The first bull notices us and stares us down for a solid minute. I’m watching him through the scope, and while he’s still soft, I savor the moment that I’m now 50 yards from an animal that, given the opportunity, could easily return me to the African dirt from where humanity came. I watch his nostrils flair attempting in vain to pick up any traces of danger. He settles down and keeps feeding in our direction. The second bull appears, then the third and the fourth. All soft. They are all big bodied, thick animals, and I admire the definition of their massive shoulder muscles flexing under their black coats as they feed up the hill in our direction. I’m now 55 yards from four giant cape buffalo bulls with no bush between us, no tree to climb up in, and only God knows how far from the truck. At this moment my endocrine system is concocting a wild mix of terror and elation and dumping excessive amounts of the stuff into my bloodstream. “Just keep breathing, and don’t mess this up”, I tell myself.
They were far too close for any of us to talk, or move, or communicate in any way. “Weren’t there five bulls together?” Where the hell is fifth?”, I think to myself. All four continue feeding to my left when suddenly a big bull appears, taking up the back. I slowly shit positions and clasp the shooting stick and the far end of the stock with my left hand. My safety is already off, and Patrick whispers, “shoot that bull”.
The bull is completely broadside with his head down. I float the illuminated red dot on the top of the shoulder and start to squeeze when the bull takes another step as he feeds. I reset my shot cycle and settle the dot again. Deep breath in, slow breath out, and slowly squeeze. The recoil of the rifle sets me back and I cycle another round immediately. Before I can get back on him, I see him falling. He goes down, and within seconds it’s over.
The four smaller bulls initially ran away, but then quickly hung a sharp U-turn and ran back toward us, presumably to assist their fallen comrade. We all lined up shouting and waiving our hands in the air like crazy people. Of course, with the levels of adrenaline pumping through our veins, acting crazy came quite naturally. The stand of lasted for quite some time, but eventually the younger bulls resolved to defeat and moved along.
We approached my bull with caution, but he was stone dead. Amazingly, the 300 grains of Barnes copper was all it took, and the bull ran exactly 21 yards before falling, unable to get up again, ultimately dead in a matter of seconds. Standing over the buff, it all seems surreal, and in the moment, I realize how fortunate I am to be living out a childhood dream on the opposite side of the planet from where I was born.
Other Hunting
After my buff was down, the pressure was off for me. From here forward, anything can happen on this trip, and I will be a happy client. Kudu is always on my list, and we looked over quite a few, but didn’t see any bulls worth taking. For the past several safaris I have wanted a big Eland, but never previously got within shooting distance of a proper bull. This trip was different, and we found a beautiful bull at last light several days into the hunt. The shot was too far for my comfort zone with the .375, and not wanting to wound the big bull, I decided not to shoot. I could tell the trackers weren’t happy, but I would rather pass on an opportunity than chase a wounded Eland around for days, which is something I have experienced firsthand while hunting with friends on former safaris. The PH wasn’t confident that we would find the bull again, but amazingly we found him the next day a few miles away from where he was the day before. I shot him off the sticks at 190 yards with a high heart shot and he was down in seconds.
Halfway through the hunt we moved camps to get my buddy Jon a buffalo. We moved up into the Free State to a farm called Sandy Mount. Jon hunted a beautiful mature buffalo our first night in camp after a lengthy stalk. He too dropped his buff with one well-placed shot from his .375 H&H.
The rest of our time at Sandy Mount we shot cull warthogs, and on the last evening, I connected with a beautiful Red Hartebeest bull, which is a species that I’ve wanted to hunt for quite some time.
Conclusion
Every time I hunt in Africa, I leave thinking that my latest safari was my best safari. This trip was no different, and the only dynamic that could have improved the trip would have been sharing the adventure with my wife or daughter (South Africa is perfect for this).
Glen Harry Game Reserve was among my favorite concessions that I have hunted in the Eastern Cape. It’s mountainous, vast, and the game is relaxed and abundant. The accommodations were clean, comfortable, and very “African” (thatched roofs, optional outdoor showers, etc.). All interactions with the staff were curious and professional, and the food was top notch. In advance, I specifically requested that we eat venison each night, and they accommodated my request. Throughout our stay we ate Buffalo (which was surprisingly delicious), Sable, Kudu, Gemsbuck, and Eland (the Eland Carpaccio from the bull I took was especially memorable). Another highlight of the trip was a tour of the property’s Bushman petroglyphs, some of which are estimated to be 10,000+ years old. One specific petroglyph was of a massive tusker elephant, and it’s believed that thousands of years back, vast herds of elephants migrated through the valley on an annual basis. The thought that 10,000 years or so back another hunter was sitting on the same rock as me, overlooking the same valley for his quarry, is just incredible. In the context of human history, it wasn’t that far back that all of our ancestors were hunting the same game as me with sharp sticks—it sure makes whacking a buff with a .375 seem like cheating.
Sandy Mount was also a great experience. The terrain was more mountainous that I expected for the Free State, and the quantity of game (especially grazers) was mind boggling. There were times that we looked over hundreds of head of game from one location. The quality and quantity of buffalo was also quite impressive. I will also add that the food alone at Sandy Mount was worth the trip.
Another highlight of the trip was bringing two close friends who experienced Africa for the first time. Jon had so much fun that he flew his wife over and doubled the length of his safari after I left camp. Jon and his wife hunted another big buff and shot some other great trophies. My other buddy, Josh, had no intention of hunting and was content to observe only, but ultimately couldn’t resist the fun of culling a few warthogs.
My gear performed flawlessly, and with the exception of my Hartebeest (notice the many holes), I was happy with my shooting. I never saw a big Kudu bull that I wanted to shoot, but leaving Africa with an unfulfilled desire is something I’ve come to value.
Without hesitation, I would highly recommend Bushmans Quiver Safaris. I have always been thrilled with the adventure and the quality of game taken on my safaris with them. More than the hunting, the Owners, Patrick & Stephan, are the kind of men that any hunter would benefit from knowing.
Ultimately, this trip was the perfect substitution hunt. I once again left Africa with a deeper sense of appreciation for the places, the people, and the game. It never ceases to amaze me that we live in an era of human history in which you can leave the comforts of your home in America, board a flight or two, and wake up the next morning to find yourself stalking one of the Big 5 in the African Bush. It’s truly unbelievable, and in my opinion, one of the greatest adventures on the planet.
Thanks for reading.
