SOUTH AFRICA: Dream Trip With KMG Hunting Safaris

[Hyde]

Chapter 1, The Journey

After two previously unsuccessful attempts to make it to Africa, I was finally less than 24 hours from departure to spend 10 days with @KMG Hunting Safaris in the Eastern Cape.

The first attempt — Namibia in 2004 — ended when I had to fight my ex for custody of my then 14-year-old son. I was awarded custody, but my cash reserves were quickly depleted in the process.

Attempt #2 — Limpopo in 2022 — fell apart at the last minute due to family obligations once again.

I joked with my wife that nothing was going to stop me this time. But as luck would have it, I slightly pulled my hamstring chasing our one-year-old pup around the house. I couldn’t believe it. I tried to ignore it, but the pain I felt just walking on flat ground made it clear this could turn into a long journey for nothing.

Hamstring be damned… I was going to Africa.

I reasoned that I’d have nearly two days of light-duty travel before needing to test my leg. I let it rest for 24 hours, then started some light stretching. But when I landed at London Heathrow, the pain and stiffness were still very much there. I was discouraged — but to my surprise, the more I walked, the better it felt.

By the next day, the pain was nearly gone. I was still cautious, guarding the muscle, but feeling hopeful.

Flying business class was a blessing, especially having access to the showers in the lounge. It was a game-changer — I was refreshed and rejuvenated for the second leg to Johannesburg.

As the massive A380 departed Heathrow, it finally sank in: I was going to Africa.


Somewhere along the flight, I checked the in-flight map and saw we were flying over northern Africa. It gave me a warm feeling inside. I was too excited to get much use out of the lie-flat seat, but I did my best to rest while imagining what the next 11 days would be like.

About an hour out of Johannesburg, I lifted the window shade and caught my first glimpse of an African sunrise.

For this trip, I used Gracy Travel — specifically Nicole — and every aspect of their service was top-notch. Just as promised, a neatly dressed representative was waiting with a sign bearing my name as I exited the jetway.

He whisked me to the front of the line at immigration and again at baggage re-check for the 1.5-hour Airlink flight to East London. He personally escorted me to the waiting area and made sure I was set before moving on to his next customer.

I wasn’t traveling with firearms this time, but if I had been, he would have handled that too. Nicole was incredibly responsive in the 6–7 months leading up to my trip — and even during it — answering all my questions and making sure I was confident and prepared. That kind of support is priceless for a first-timer flying halfway around the world.

After an uneventful hop to East London, I was met by my PH for the week — Lloyd from KMG Hunting Safaris. We gathered my gear and made the 45-minute drive to the lodge.

I’d decided to rent a rifle for this first safari, just to make things simpler. We headed straight to the range for the obligatory sight-in.

Lloyd handed me a fine bolt-action rifle in .270 Winchester. It fit me perfectly — smooth Mauser action, crisp trigger. Three shots, including a solid hit on the 200-yard gong, and we were ready to go.

I was initially concerned about the caliber, especially since I hoped for a shot at an eland. But Lloyd reassured me: as long as you do your part, the .270 is more than enough. He supplied factory 150-grain round-nose ammo — and I’d soon find out just how well it performed.

After a delicious dinner of impala and potatoes, Lloyd and I discussed the plan for the following day. Everyone knew my #1 priority was kudu.

But the farm we planned to hunt kudu on was two hours away — and the forecast there called for high winds and rain. So, Lloyd decided we’d stay local for day one and see what turned up.

As the sun set on my first day in Africa, I couldn’t help but reflect on how long it had taken to reach this point.

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt privileged — and deeply thankful.

 

[Firebird]

Glad to see a hunting report crop up-eager for more details and pictures

 

[Pheroze]

I am excited to hear how this goes. You were with one of the best in my opinion.

 

[375 Ruger Fan]

Great start, looking forward to the rest of the report.

 

[swashington]

Your writing is awesome, the description of your first couple attempts to get there are better than when you told me at the lodge. Keep it up my friend

 

[KEC]

I can't wait to read more of your experience; my Wife and I hunted with Marius in 2019 and had an amazing trip. Since then, there has been a couple of failed attempts on my part to get back with KMG. We were supposed to be there around now, but I was hurt last fall when moose hunting and still recovering. All that aside, we will be there June of 2026 and will be hunting with Lloyd as well.

 

[Rem280]

Lloyd is the man! Awesome

 

[JT68]

Good luck!

 

[Hyde]

Chapter 2: The Nyala of My Dreams

I fell asleep around 10 p.m., but now—annoyingly—I was wide awake just three hours later. I tried all my tricks to fall back asleep, but nothing worked. This was, after all, a monumental day in my life. I did my best to rest, but eventually gave up and took a long shower.

The wind had howled all night and was still going strong. As I made my way to the dining room for breakfast, I braced myself for the worst.

Lloyd was already there, stoking the fire in the beautiful lodge fireplace. Over coffee and a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon, we talked through our plan for the day. Then we were off to see what Africa would provide.

I met Lloyd’s longtime friend and tracker, Sive (pronounced "C-Vay"). We loaded up the pickup and headed out. It wasn’t long before we reached a locked gate. Just as we pulled through, the first drops of rain began to fall.

Being from Seattle, a little rain didn’t faze me—but I quickly discovered that hunting in a proper African rainstorm is a fool’s errand. Lloyd agreed, scrapping the morning plan and turning back toward the lodge.

By the time we arrived, the rain was coming sideways and the wind hadn’t let up. We waited it out in front of the fire, sipping coffee and swapping hunting stories.

After about three hours, the weather broke. The skies cleared completely—blue from horizon to horizon—though the wind remained.

No matter. Lloyd knew the land well and was confident we’d find areas sheltered from the wind. And so, we headed out again.

Not long after our first stop to glass, I was amazed to spot my first kudu bull, along with several cows. Then I caught sight of a few warthogs. Lloyd and Sive, meanwhile, were busy scanning for nyala.

They soon found two decent bulls across a deep canyon on a steep hillside. We spent the next hour or two working our way closer and finally got into position about 300 yards away. Lloyd studied the bulls through the spotting scope and eventually determined they were both still a year too young.

We hiked back to the pickup and moved on to another section of the farm.

The good news? My hamstring was feeling good.

We climbed to the top of a large plateau overlooking a broad basin. Lloyd and Sive split up, each glassing different parts of the landscape. I did my best to “help,” but all I could find were some impala and a few more warthogs about 1,000 yards away.

As evening approached, I walked back to the pickup to grab my coat. Just then, Sive came briskly up to the truck, grabbed the rifle and tripod, and gave me a look that said everything I needed to know: follow me—now.

We made our way to a huge outcropping of flat boulders, a perfect vantage point. I joined Lloyd, who pointed out 3 or 4 nyala ewes feeding about 200 yards below. Their copper-striped coats shimmered in the last light of the day.

Lloyd had already set up the rifle on a tripod with a clamp. He guided me to a tall aloe vera tree, about 10 feet high. “The bull is just behind it,” he whispered. Sure enough, I could see the bridge of his nose, protruding slightly as he nibbled on a bush.

We quickly reviewed the steep downward shooting angle. I knew better than to misjudge trajectory—I'd learned that lesson painfully years ago on a huge mule deer buck I still think about.

We waited, holding position, until the bull finally took the two steps I needed.

I was immediately struck by the rich darkness of his coat.

Lloyd whispered calmly, “On the shoulder… squeeeeeeze…”

The rifle cracked. The bullet hit squarely on the shoulder. I lost sight of him for a second, but Lloyd said confidently, “That was perfect.”

I chambered another round and stayed ready. Although I couldn’t see him, the bull regained his feet and staggered about 30 yards into the brush before disappearing.

We kept eyes on the area and were confident he hadn’t gone far—there was no good escape route we couldn’t see.

After 10 minutes, our farm-provided tracker carefully made his way down through the rim to find the blood trail.

Ten more minutes passed. Then the radio crackled:

“I see him. He’s down… but still breathing.”

Lloyd told him to hold position and not push the bull. We circled around via a lower road that we hoped would bring us close.

Light was fading fast. From our earlier vantage point, the road had looked to be 100–200 yards from the bull’s location—but it turned out to be more like 500 yards, all uphill. My hamstring was about to be tested.

Sive hustled ahead, found the tracker, and guided us through the brush. Now nearly dark, we finally reached them. Lloyd had me on his left, rifle ready, as we eased around a massive boulder.

The bull was there, lying under a tree with his head away from us. One final shot behind the shoulder sealed it. My dream of hunting Africa had just come true.

There were high fives and handshakes all around. We pulled the bull out and did our best to capture the moment with some photos. That was when I finally took a good look at his horns—something I hadn’t done at all before the shot. I had taken Lloyd’s word that it was a good bull.

And he was everything I had hoped for. Beautiful, sweeping horns. Ivory tips. Absolutely stunning.

Later we learned that the tracker had found zero blood—just the faint flicker of a tail as the bull moved behind the boulder and under the bush like tree. It still amazes me how everything came together.

Thankfully, a call went out to the lodge, where another KMG PH and his client were waiting for dinner. Lloyd convinced them reinforcements would be “appreciated.”

About 30 minutes later, a small crew arrived. They loaded the bull into a heavy-duty tarp with handles—something they call the sail—and down the mountain they went.

Meanwhile, Lloyd and I picked our way back down the steep, thorn-filled hillside using only our phone flashlights. My leg was stiff, but it held. I was just glad I didn’t end up in the sail too.

As it turned out, my bullet had clipped the lower lobes of both lungs and stopped just under the skin on the offside shoulder.


Dinner and a couple of well-earned scotches capped off a day I will never forget.

Sleep would come easy tonight.

 

[Tim Blackwell]

That Nyala is a bus. Looking forward to the rest of your report!

 

[BRICKBURN]

Congratulations on a very nice bull.

 

[gillettehunter]

Great Nyala and a well written story of your hunt to boot. Congrats
Bruce

 

[Hyde]

Congratulations on a very nice bull.

Thank you! I'm glad I didn't study those horns before the shot.

 

[Hyde]

Great Nyala and a well written story of your hunt to boot. Congrats
Bruce

Thank you Bruce.

 

[Hyde]

I can't wait to read more of your experience; my Wife and I hunted with Marius in 2019 and had an amazing trip. Since then, there has been a couple of failed attempts on my part to get back with KMG. We were supposed to be there around now, but I was hurt last fall when moose hunting and still recovering. All that aside, we will be there June of 2026 and will be hunting with Lloyd as well.

I am trying to figure out how to get back there next year. I left not knowing if I would ever make it back. A week later, I know I am going back! I will take my wife along next time. It's just too great not to share.

 

[Hyde]

Your writing is awesome, the description of your first couple attempts to get there are better than when you told me at the lodge. Keep it up my friend

Thanks Steve. Hope you and Brenda made it home safely. I'm sitting at my desk working now, but in reality, I'm still there....

 

[Mountaineous]

I’m glad to read about your successful trip! My family has a trip booked with KMG for May 2027. It will be our first time to the EC.

 

[Trogon]

That's an awesome start on a hunting trip! Looking forward to the next chapter! Your Nyala is gorgeous

 

[AZDAVE]

Nice nyala! Looks like KMG is delivering another good safari. have fun. I really enjoy the eastern cape.

 

[Hyde]

Chapter 3: Chasing Kudu

I woke to the familiar dull ache of tired legs. A few cramps throughout the night reminded me to stay hydrated. After an early breakfast, we set off on the two-hour drive to the farm where we would chase kudu. The drive was uneventful, and we met our assigned tracker at the main gate. It felt odd at first to see corn being harvested—until I remembered it was autumn here in the Southern Hemisphere. The cool, crisp air reminded me of early October back home. The farm workers were bundled up in winter coats and wool beanies, a stark contrast to the spring we’d just left behind in the States.

We wound our way up into the higher country in search of kudu. Once again, it didn’t take long—Lloyd and Sive spotted a small herd halfway up a long canyon, about 600–800 yards from our initial position. At least three bulls and several cows. One of the bulls was a definite shooter. The hunt was on.

We closed the distance on foot to about 350 yards and hunkered down to watch. For several hours we observed them—feeding, bedding down, then feeding again. The bull we were after had long, wide horns with tips that pointed forward—exactly what I was hoping for. We waited as they gradually worked into a possible shooting position. We low-crawled as close as we dared and set up just behind a wire fence. I used the tripod clamp again, this time from a seated position.

I watched the bull through the scope, steadying my breathing. My heart rate was calm, but I couldn’t keep the crosshairs steady on the vitals. I was good left to right, but my vertical hold was shaky. I’m sure the fatigue from the nyala adventure the day before contributed. Over the next hour, we played a frustrating game of cat and mouse. Each time I thought I had a shot, something went wrong—he’d take a step, a cow would block my line of sight, or Lloyd would quietly call it off. I must have taken the safety off ten times, only to reset it again and again.

Just when I started to wonder if he’d slip away over the ridge, Lloyd said, “Get ready.” He’d read the bull’s body language. Sure enough, the kudu stepped out into the open.

I took a deep breath, let half of it out, and squeezed the trigger.

The rifle bucked. The shot missed—high. Miraculously, the bull didn’t spook. He just kept feeding. I racked the bolt and got ready again. Within a minute, the bull stood perfectly broadside once more. I settled in and fired a second shot. This one felt perfect. I would’ve bet a week’s pay it was right in the shoulder crease. But again, the bull didn’t react. He continued feeding and eventually disappeared with the herd into the brush.

Lloyd and Sive quickly devised a new plan. Sive would loop wide to try and intercept or relocate the group. At one point, it looked like they might even circle back toward us. But then they vanished, and we didn’t see them again.

Back at the truck, we ate a quick lunch before heading off to try a different area. We’d barely started glassing when Lloyd caught a glimpse of another large bull feeding about 600 yards away. No hesitation—we dismounted and began a slow, careful stalk in his direction.

The approach was textbook. Four of us, walking in unison, silent, not snapping a single twig. At one point, a duiker burst out of the brush in front of us, zigzagging wildly before vanishing again. I was sure the little deer had blown our cover—but the bush remained still.

After 20 minutes of silent progress, Sive stepped up next to Lloyd, glassing intently. I couldn’t see anything at first. Then I saw Sive’s eyes widen. Lloyd responded without words, calmly setting up the shooting sticks and motioning me forward. “He’s right there,” Sive whispered, “behind that tree.”

Lloyd pointed to a tree about 40 yards ahead that forked into a perfect Y about four feet up. “When he steps into that Y,” Lloyd said, “I’ll grunt to stop him.”

A few seconds later, the kudu stepped into view, right where he was supposed to. Lloyd gave a soft grunt, and the bull stopped perfectly in the frame of the tree. I settled the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger.

The .270 barked, and the kudu dropped on the spot.

As it turned out, the bull had been about 80 yards away—40 yards beyond the Y tree. I stood there, stunned. My dream African animal lay still before me. His deep curls and long, heavy black horns were everything I’d ever imagined.

I didn’t know whether to shout, run, or cry.

With just a fleeting glimpse, my PH had read the moment and put us in exactly the right position to make it happen. It was an incredible stalk, a perfect shot, and the realization of a lifelong dream.