SOUTH AFRICA: Bushveld Redux: Safari With Chris Troskie Safaris As Remembered By A Slightly Overfed, Marginally Overarmed Disciple Of The Old School…

SRvet

AH enthusiast
Joined
Apr 19, 2020
Messages
360
Reaction score
563
Location
UK
Media
8
Articles
1
Hunting reports
Africa
1
Member of
BASC, British Deer Society
Hunted
RSA, Zimbabwe
Day One: Arrival



Johannesburg struck me with the familiar tang of heat and diesel, the scent of Africa’s welcome-home handshake. I was met by Frank from Africa Sky, a man whose casual competence suggested he’d seen it all before and knew better than to comment on the baggage of wide-eyed hunters. At the police office, Gilbert moved with bureaucratic ease, and before I could finish my complimentary bottle of water, my rifles were in the car and we were off.



We made a quick detour through Lindwood Bridge’s Safari & Outdoors, a glittering armory for modern Nimrods. Like a child loosed in a chocolate shop, I exercised remarkable restraint—purchasing only what I absolutely didn’t need—and then we hit the tar toward Sabrisa.



The reunion with Chris and Sabina was heartening. It had been three years, but Africa doesn’t forget its own. I met the staff again: Sammy, the silent-footed scout; Kate, who wielded hospitality like a weapon; and Ephraim, a new helper whose quiet energy hinted at deeper layers that still needed to be discovered.



We zeroed rifles before sundown. The .375 H&H sang true. The .458 Lott needed two clicks down—an adjustment of no consequence but great satisfaction. A shower rinsed off the dust, and we convened around a Braai that would’ve made Bacchus weep: chicken wings crisped to perfection, sausage and steak thick enough to terrify cardiologists, all washed down with red wine from a bottle that didn’t last long enough. A G&T by the fire followed. Life was good. Even liberating a squirrel from my room (clearly impressed by my gear) didn’t disturb the mood.



Sunday: Buffalo Day



Up at 0545 after the kind of deep, clean sleep only found on African soil. Breakfast was light—we were still metabolizing last night’s feast—and then we transferred to a neighboring concession in pursuit of Syncerus caffer, the African buffalo, that bovine embodiment of malice and menace.



The bush was thick, visibility brief and conversations briefer. We saw giraffe, kudu, impala, warthog, and baboon. But the real action came when we nearly walked into a cow and calf. The wind betrayed us, as it does, and we backtracked.



Then he showed. A bull—big, brutish, and brimming with belligerence—crossed ahead of the truck. We saw him again while Sammy was checking spoor, which gave rise to a moment of African comedy as he leapt back aboard the truck faster than a Springbok dodging a lion.



Lunch back at Sabrisa was predictably spectacular. A nap on the veranda followed by a call home reminded me that my family still assumed I was mostly sane.



Back out by 1430. While investigating old tracks, we spotted a herd of 12 buffalo. Dense brush gave us cover for a stalk. One old cow, quartering toward me at 50 meters, presented herself for judgment.



The .458 Lott, stoked with 420g CEB Raptors screaming out at 2350fps, barked once. A solid hit. But then an unseen calf ran out, and chaos ensued. Chris yelled to shoot again, but she vanished into the bush before I could bolt another round.



No death bellow.



We waited. Cigarettes. Reloaded: another Raptor and 450g solids behind it. Then the dogs—DT and the GSP—were unleashed. What followed was quintessential Africa: heat, tension, and the scent of old blood.



Then, Sammy pointed to fresh blood-crimson, arterial and copious.The barking shocked us—DT had her at bay. We ran, freezing on two occasions when we heard her crashing towards us yet the charge did not come.



There she was. A dark shape hulking over the courageous DT in the gloom. Chris fired, I fired four times at the front half of the dark shape and reloaded the empty magazine. At the last shot she crashed forwards and bled. A final insurance shot when she blinked on the corneal test confirmed it—she was dead. And not lactating, thank God. The calf was not hers.



The truck arrived. The old girl was winched up like a sunken trawler and taken to the skinning shed. First shot? Through both lungs, above the heart, below the spine. Perfect. The Raptor had fragmented and exited. All subsequent shots bar one had found their mark but the cow never gave up until the very last. Supper was a marvel of mushroom soup, pork tenderloin, and chocolate pudding, all wrapped in the warm haze of good wine and the knowledge that I’d survived my first day.

IMG_1688.jpeg
IMG_8847.jpeg
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Monday to Wednesday: Plains Game, Mountains, and Mortality



Monday brought a mountain reedbuck, dropped cleanly with a 300g TSX. No blood trail, but a body tells the tale. Afternoon saw a session back on the range zeroing my .375 with a lighter bullet then a trip up the mountain. A kudu cow, taken from sticks with the .375 and a 250g TTSX. She ran 100 yards and bled lung blood like a sieve. Another freezer filled.



Tuesday, on the Limpopo, an impala stood wrong for her health at 80m—facing but quartering. The .375 hit just inside the right shoulder. Later, I tried my luck on wildebeest. Twice we had them on sticks. Twice we were busted—once by a roan and once by zebra. That’s hunting.



Wednesday was mountain business. We chased gemsbok, but spooked them. In the end, I took a zebra mare with the .375. She was broadside, old, and beautiful. The bullet struck true, shattered the heart, and she collapsed on a rocky ledge with a view that would stir the coldest soul. I felt it, the loss. My wife would need careful convincing as she has a deep love of all things equine. As I confessed my transgression, she told me later, “At least it wasn’t a giraffe.” A sentence that deserves a plaque in any hunter’s house. She even gave blessing to pursue a second buffalo.
 

Attachments

  • IMG_9046.jpeg
    IMG_9046.jpeg
    195.2 KB · Views: 28
  • IMG_8939.jpeg
    IMG_8939.jpeg
    181.9 KB · Views: 23
  • IMG_8906.jpeg
    IMG_8906.jpeg
    155 KB · Views: 30
Thursday: Warthog Woes and Aardwolf Awe

We sought warthog but found only sows with babies. Diana wasn’t smiling. But the gods gave us a gift: an Aardwolf. A rare, sandy ghost. Sammy could not articulate the name but knew enough to whisper, “No permit, no shoot!” That sighting alone made the day worth it.


Friday: The Last Buffalo

New ground, near Steenbokpan. A misty morning greeted us, and the lady who welcomed us warned of her pet meerkat that was held firmly in her arms. The menace in miniature tried to attack us on sight.

Buffalo were elusive—older spoor teased us—but an hour before sunset, we struck fresh tracks. No prints exited the block. They were in there.

We entered a tangle of thorn and shadow, where anything black and horned could explode from ten feet away. Zebra flushed. The buffalo had merged with them and exited unseen. Game over.

No shot fired, but the chase had its own reward. The fire that night was warm, the wine comforting, and the laughter tinged with farewell.

Epilogue

Saturday was goodbyes, packing, and the long journey back to Johannesburg. Virgin Atlantic got me home. Rain and cold met me at Heathrow.

And so ended my 2025 safari with Chris Troskie Safaris, a trip etched in blood, sweat, and elation.

To those who hear the call of the dark continent, I say this: answer it. And do so with Chris and Sabina—professionals of the highest calibre who host like royalty and hunt like legends.

Africa doesn’t leave you unchanged.

And that, as they say, is just how it bloody well should be.
 
I have my first trip to Africa booked with Chris for next year. Thanks for the write up!
 
I have my first trip to Africa booked with Chris for next year. Thanks for the write up!
You will have a great time and be well looked after!
 
Sighting of an aardwolf is very rare. Congratulation on a nice safari.
 

Forum statistics

Threads
61,406
Messages
1,343,919
Members
115,579
Latest member
siragusalawoffice
 

 

 

Latest profile posts

Hunted:
USA:
AK, CO, IA, KS, MN, MO, MT, NE, NM, SD, UT, WI, WY
Canada: Manitoba, Saskatchewan
International: Scotland, Limpopo South Africa
Franco wrote on rnovi's profile.
Here's the target for the NorthForks - 25yds off a bag, iron sights. Hunting leopards over dogs the range won't be more than that.

Flew in an airshow in Smyrna years ago, beautiful country.

Best regards,

Franco

IMG_1476.jpeg
Sighting in rifles before the hunt commences.
WhatsApp Image 2025-06-03 at 10.13.28.jpeg
 
Top