So, I have put together a little report of the hunt..........
The Plan
I recently returned from an extraordinary hunting trip in Zimbabwe’s Savé Valley, a journey that fulfilled a lifelong ambition. Hunting a Cape buffalo in my country of birth had always been a dream, but for years, circumstances and timing prevented me from realizing it. Having nearly given up hope, I began exploring opportunities closer to home in South Africa, where the logistics of a short-notice hunt seemed more feasible.
I initially contacted Ernest Dyason of Spear Safaris regarding a cancellation on a buffalo hunt in the Greater Kruger (Klaserie). We had just begun discussing the finer details when his client reinstated their booking. Despite this setback, Ernest, who was still conducting a hunt in Tanzania, graciously connected me with Sean Grant of Shangani River Safaris. Within days, we finalized the dates, and the hunt was confirmed.
Wishing to share this momentous experience with a close companion, I invited my friend and shooting partner, John, to join me. A former ranger in the Kgalagadi National Park and a passionate bush enthusiast, John was as eager as I was to embark on this adventure. His availability aligned perfectly with the chosen dates, and we quickly arranged flights via Airlink, traveling from Cape Town to Johannesburg and onward to Bulawayo.
The preparation phase included securing temporary export and import permits for our rifles from the South African Police Service. Despite initiating the process 60 days before departure—well beyond the standard 21-day requirement—delays caused considerable anxiety. With just two weeks remaining and no permit in hand, I enlisted the assistance of a specialist attorney. Through persistent follow-ups with high-ranking officials, the necessary approvals were finally obtained, much to my relief.
For this hunt, I selected my trusted CZ 375 H&H rifle, scoped with a GPO 1-8x24 and hand loaded with 300-grain SBC bullets—locally manufactured with a bonded core, akin to Swift A-Frames. Additionally, I prepared a load of 300-grain Hornady DGS solids at the recommendation of my PH, given the possibility of a PAC elephant opportunity due to the concession’s proximity to local villages.
The Journey
The journey to Bulawayo was seamless, with on-time flights and efficient luggage and firearm transfers. However, anticipating potential delays at customs, I sought advice from Jurgen (VertigoBE), a forum member. He recommended a professional in Bulawayo who specialized in expediting the customs process for hunters. The decision proved invaluable, as we cleared customs with remarkable efficiency, enabling us to embark on the six-hour drive to camp with minimal delay.
The Camp
The camp itself had been constructed in the six weeks prior to our arrival, and I was uncertain what to expect. Upon arrival, I was thoroughly impressed. The layout was thoughtfully designed, combining comfort and practicality. The sleeping quarters were spacious and well-appointed, providing a much-needed sanctuary after the long journey. The communal areas, particularly the campfire setting, fostered a sense of camaraderie and offered a perfect backdrop for evenings spent sharing stories beneath the stars.
The Concession
The land where we hunted is owned by the Nyangambe community and forms part of the renowned Savé Valley Conservancy, located in the southwestern region of the conservancy. This unique arrangement not only supports sustainable wildlife management but also benefits the local community directly.
The concession itself was recently acquired by Shangani River Safaris, led by owner and professional hunter Sean Grant. Sean secured a five-year lease earlier in the year, with an automatic renewal for an additional five years, ensuring long-term stewardship of the area. It is evident that Sean and his fiancé (Ty) have a clear vision for revitalizing the concession, building trust with the community, and ensuring responsible hunting practices.
The concession had previously been managed by another operator, but their tenure ended under less-than-ideal circumstances. While some of these issues were publicly discussed on this forum, it is clear that Sean and his team are committed to restoring the concession’s reputation and unlocking its potential. The efforts to construct the camp in just six weeks and to establish efficient operations in such a short time reflected this dedication.
This partnership with the Nyangambe community will be particularly significant. Revenue generated from hunting directly supports local development projects and anti-poaching initiatives. It was heartening to see how sustainable hunting in the conservancy could play a role in preserving wildlife and uplifting the community.
The PH
A quick Google search might not reveal much about Sean Grant, but spending five minutes in his company speaks volumes about his character and dedication. Sean is a man who is deeply committed to conservation and fully understands the critical role that ethical hunting plays in preserving wildlife and supporting local communities.
From the moment we met, it was evident that Sean is not only a skilled professional but also a genuinely likable individual. His passion for the bush and its inhabitants is infectious, and his approach to sustainable hunting is guided by a profound respect for the land and the animals that inhabit it.
Throughout the hunt, I felt completely safe under Sean’s guidance. His extensive knowledge of the terrain, the behavior of the animals, and the nuances of the hunt left no doubt that we were in the hands of a highly capable professional. Whether we were navigating dense bush or making critical decisions in the field, Sean’s calm demeanor and expertise provided a reassuring presence at every turn. He took the time to share his insights and strategies, ensuring that I was not just a participant in the hunt but an engaged and informed partner. It was clear that for Sean, this was more than a job—it was a calling, rooted in a deep love for the wild and a commitment to its preservation.
The Hunt
Each day of the hunt began with a wake-up call at 5:00 a.m., followed by a steaming cup of coffee and a rusk to shake off the early morning chill. While breakfast—bacon and eggs—was offered, we opted to skip it, preferring to get an early start in the field. By 5:30 a.m., the trackers arrived, and within minutes, we were on our way, driving out of camp with anticipation building.
Our mornings were spent slowly navigating the dusty tracks, scanning the roadsides for any signs of recent activity. The process of analyzing tracks was fascinating in itself. The trackers would leap off the vehicle to study the imprints in the soil, discerning details invisible to the untrained eye. A quick assessment determined whether the tracks were fresh enough to pursue and, crucially, whether they belonged solely to bulls rather than cows. If the signs were promising, the real work began—on foot. Watching the trackers at work was a humbling experience; their skill and intuition bordered on the extraordinary.
When a sighting was made, the next phase began—planning the final stalk. This required careful strategy, with the wind direction, terrain, and the buffalo’s behavior all factored into the approach. The density of the thick mopani added to the challenge, often limiting visibility and requiring us to get within close range for a clean shot.
Despite meticulous planning, the swirling wind in the Savé proved to be our most formidable adversary. Time and again, we would edge closer, only for a sudden gust to betray our presence. The buffalo, ever alert and wary, would slip away into the dense thickets, leaving us to regroup and begin anew. These moments, though frustrating, underscored the intelligence and survival instincts of the Cape buffalo—a true testament to why they are among Africa’s most challenging game to hunt.
After five gruelling days of walking, stalking, and near-misses, our perseverance finally paid off. Each day had begun with optimism, only to end with the same refrain—close, but not quite close enough. Despite the challenges, spirits remained high, driven by the thrill of the pursuit and the hope that tomorrow would bring success.
Typically, we would call it a day by 6:00 p.m., just as the light began to fade and the bush became more difficult to navigate. On this particular evening, however, things felt different. We were hot on the trail of a small herd of six dugga boys, and Sean decided we should push on a little longer. His instincts proved spot on.
Every sense was heightened as we crept forward, knowing the buffalo were just ahead.
Finally, the moment came. We spotted the herd, their massive, dark silhouettes moving slowly through the trees. Sean motioned for us to halt, quickly assessing the situation. He identified a bull that I would have a clear shot at.
The wind, which had been our nemesis on so many previous stalks, held steady in our favour. Step by step, we closed the distance, a small anthill providing just enough cover to mask our movements. When we were within 50m, Sean knelt down and I placed my CZ 375 H&H firmly on his shoulder. We could not stand up and use the shooting sticks, the Buffalo would have seen us clearly.
The bull stood facing us, looking intently but not quite sure who/what we were. My heart pounded as I steadied my aim, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. With Sean’s quiet encouragement, I lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger.
It was 6.26pm, the red dot allowed me to focus entirely on the target (heart) without second-guessing my sight picture. It was a reassuring tool, enabling me to place my shot exactly where it needed to go. The bull staggered, the bullet hitting its mark. It attempted to retreat into the bush, but its movements were labored, a clear sign of a fatal wound. Initially Sean signalled that a follow-up shot would not be necessary. It was almost dark and Sean then decided that we should put the bull down finally, John and I fired as one and the bull collapsed. There was time for a quick photo or two before we made our way back to the vehicle in total darkness. The plan was to retrieve the carcass in the morning.
Driving back to camp, a wave of emotions washed over me—relief, joy, and gratitude all intermingled. This was the culmination of years of dreaming and days of relentless effort in the bush.
It wasn’t the biggest trophy, nor was that ever the goal. For me, this hunt was never about the size of the horns or the weight of the boss. It was about the journey—the long days of tracking under the African sun, the camaraderie with John, Sean, and the trackers, and the sheer privilege of being immersed in the untamed wilderness.
It was a fitting end to an extraordinary journey—one that will remain etched in my memory forever.
