rosecitymike
AH member
Prologue
I’m more of an avid shooter than hunter. I love tinkering with rifles and handloads and finding that perfect combination of powder and bullet that make for great accuracy. My friend Casey, however, lives to hunt and we’ve had great times chasing mule deer and antelope together. He spends many weeks hunting in Africa, and his stories, trophies, and love of the continent made it all but impossible to resist planning a trip for myself.
Over the last few years this plan came together. Conversations over a glass of bourbon with Casey, watched over by mounts of buffalo, oryx, nyala, kudu, and countless others; reading thread after thread on this forum; reaching out via PM to members and sponsors for advice; COVID delays—all culminated last year when I booked a 7-day hunt with Philip @KHOMAS HIGHLAND HUNTING SAFARIS in Namibia. Kudu, oryx and zebra were priorities, with possible add-ons of opportunity. I was going to Africa!
It seems like forever when you book over a year in advance. But I filled those months fine-tuning a load for my rifle—a 300 Win Mag built off a Savage action with a custom barrel and stock. Two loads proved the most accurate: one with 212 grain Hornady ELDXs traveling a little over 2700 fps and another with 200 grain Barnes LRX at just under 3000 fps. Fortunately, I found enough components to load for both practice and the hunt. Accuracy from the bench assured, I moved on to the sticks, knowing that misses would be due to poor technique and not the rifle. A tripod style didn’t work well but Blaser carbon fiber sticks allowed me to be accurate out to 300 yards, the limit of my local range. I studied pages of The Perfect Shot to be sure I knew just where to aim.
Jennifer from @TRAVEL EXPRESS was unbelievably helpful in organizing flights and making sure I had all the required paperwork (in quadruplicate—if that’s even a word). The long flight went from Portland to Chicago to Addis Ababa to Windhoek on Ethiopian Airlines. I confess to being extremely nervous about the connecting flight in Addis—only 35 minutes for the authorities to check my rifle and paperwork before moving on. Jennifer, always confident, assured that many hunters flew this route with no issues. As she put it—"they are extremely motivated to make sure you make the connection”. When my flight from O’Hare was delayed an hour I was sure I’d be stuck in Addis a while, but jet stream, airline schedule padding, and a little extra fuel burned got us into Addis right on time. A wonderful young man met me at right off the plane, whisked me to baggage for the rifle check and back to the tarmac with just enough margin to make my connection. I finally relaxed for the last 5 ½ hour leg. Airtags in both rifle case and checked bag confirmed both made the journey to Windhoek as well.
By mid-afternoon, I had been collected at the airport and driven to Khomas, about an hour and half journey. Once there I settled into my extremely comfortable room and after a (much needed) shower enjoyed a (much needed) beer in the clubhouse. I was given a short tour of the property—which is lovely and welcoming. Philip has a wonderful conservation/breeding program on the farm, so as the light of the day waned with a beer by the fire, I watched his herds of Sable, Giraffe, and Leweche wander about. I hadn’t yet started my week of hunting, but already felt good about my decision. I imagine most, if not all here, care a great deal about conservation and proper game management, and to see it as a big part of Philip’s operation was very satisfying.
Hunting—Day 1
After a decent night’s sleep, we met for coffee and breakfast at 6:30 am. By 7 we were loaded into the Land Cruiser and ready to go. My group consisted of our driver Afex, PH Isaac, and Marcus, an intern from New Zealand and guide in his own right. After a quick stop to zero in the rifle (a good thing, going from sea level in the Pacific Northwest to 5800 feet at camp had the rifle shooting 1.75 inches high at 100 yards)—we were on our way!
It’s hard to describe the feeling of awe and excitement, driving in the crisp morning air as the sun rises, seeing animals only experienced through TV or taxidermy. Oryx, springbok, red hartebeest, wildebeest, and warthog. It seemed a new species around every corner. I confess to being totally smitten by the delicate Steinbok does—so elegant with their big eyes and slick coats, they brought a smile with every sighting.
Eventually we saw a group of oryx with a nice bull and set off for a stalk. Winding behind ridges and keeping bushes and trees between, we started to get close-ish a couple of times but were always busted by these wily animals, either by a change in wind or a glimpse of movement. They were always a step ahead. I learned quickly that catching oryx by surprise, or any animal if oryx are around, is not an easy task—those suckers take off quick and carry all other game in their wake!
At one point we saw a kudu bull, the number one animal on my list. Isaac asked what I was looking for and I said certainly a mature bull, if we could find one 50+ inches I’d be ecstatic. He said this bull was pretty good, probably about 48. We decided to pass on the stalk, it was only morning of the first day. Maybe he’s not a Day 1 Kudu, more like a Day 6 Kudu.
That morning session we saw a ton of game but could not manage a successful stalk. At lunch, I considered it probably a good thing—I felt the adrenaline dump every time we left the truck and am not sure I could have made a good shot. Funny how that works; you can be as confident in yourself and your equipment as possible, have experience hunting and killing, and yet you get in the field surrounded by these magnificent animals and the rush is so intense you have a hard time breathing properly. It’s truly exhilarating!
After lunch and a nap we resumed at 3:30—still warm but we headed straight to the mountains. Here the expertise of Isaac really shone. He would point out animals left and right that took me forever to find, even with binoculars. “Oryx, kudu cow, young bull, springbok, impala” he’d say, pointing in a direction where I saw only trees and bush, maybe a flash of color as animals scattered at the sound of the truck. The afternoon continued this way, stopping to glass the hillsides but not finding any good shooters. Lots of kudu cows and some immature bulls, usually ranging from 1 to 1 ½ curls. Plenty of oryx as well, though nothing that really piqued Isaac’s interest.
Towards the end of the afternoon we rounded a bend in the road and Isaac suddenly said, “Stop!”. A herd of about a dozen oryx grazed the hillside opposite the valley and had neither heard nor seen the truck. We backed the Land Cruiser up a few yards to remain behind a ridge and hopped out—crouching low and moving slow into position to glass the herd. A spot on a rock shelf under a tree allowed us to remain unobserved. Marcus said, “look for a pizzle”, and indeed, there was a nice bull in the group, remarkably standing by himself on a rock ledge, broadside to us as his girls grazed.
There was no space to set up the sticks but the shelf made for a decent prone position. The bull ranged at 300 yards a little below our position. This happened to be exactly at the second hash mark below the center of my reticle. Behind the rifle and lined up, that reticle wavered all over the place. Adrenaline again. I’m sure Isaac and Marcus were both wondered why I had not taken the shot, but my breath came ragged and shallow and I needed more composure. Thank goodness, we were still undetected. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. The reticle still moved a more than I liked but was manageable. I squeezed carefully at the end of a breath when that second hash passed just behind the shoulder. A good shot! The bull jumped up, tried to run down the slope but only made it a few yards before collapsing and sliding a downhill to a stop. My first African animal! Once to him, we discovered a good hit—just behind the shoulder, below the scapula; right where the red dot is placed in The Perfect Shot. The bullet could be felt under the skin on the opposite side above the elbow. Relief—all that practice time and load development paid off!
Hunting—Day 2
Another cold, clear morning in Namibia. The horizon glowed pink as we returned to the mountains to look for zebra and kudu. Glad I had brought layers for the trip as tooling along in the open back of the Land Cruiser was cold, but as we drove and the sun began to show itself properly the day began to warm.
Remarkably, the day before we had not seen a single Zebra but this morning they were everywhere. You would think the start contrast of black on white would jump out of the landscape, but time and again I needed animals pointed out. Long trains traversing far away mountain faces like mules making their way down the Grand Canyon. We would glass zebra at 1000 yards or more and clearly we had been spotted first—they wound their way over a ridge and out of sight, sometimes at a leisurely walk, other times at a trot, but always putting distance between us. With numbers in our favor, it didn’t take long to find a closer group. One small herd led by a stallion crossed in front of us and started up a nearby rise. We jumped out of the truck and got up on the sticks, Isaac instructing me to shoot “the one in the front”. I was just set and finding the stallion in the scope when the wind changed, and I could feel it now on the back of my neck. In a flash they were off and over the hill.
We followed on foot, Isaac expertly picking tracks out of the dirt. We went slowly, hoping they might have stopped once free of our scent, but all we did was jump a couple of oryx that took off just as quickly. Isaac noted the direction the zebra travelled, and we went back to the truck.
Driving roads going in the general direction of the escaped herd, we soon spotted zebra on a far ridge. Was it the same herd? I have no idea but would not be surprised given the tracking skills and instinct Isaac was to show over the week. There was a smaller ridge inbetween offering a good chance at a stalk to bring us within 2-300 yards.
Climbing carefully, we stayed together and kept ridge and vegetation between us and the zebra as much as possible. Closer now and occasionally glimpsing the herd, not yet aware of us. We were now less than 400 yards away. Not more than 60 yards from a great shooting position a small group of oryx popped up and sprinted away. The zebra caught their movement and likewise got the hell outta Dodge.
On our way back to meet the truck we spotted a lone stallion down in the river bed. We quickly crouched and ranged him at around 250 yards. Carefully setting up the sticks, I was soon in a great position at a broadside shot. The angle was steep, likely 50 degrees or more, but my binoculars calculated the angle into proper shooting solution. All looked perfect but I tensed, pushed forward on the rifle at the trigger pull, the barrel dipped, and I shot under the stallion. I knew immediately it was a clean miss, and further glassing showed this to be the case. Because he wasn’t totally spooked we figured we could follow and catch up again. Afex our driver had eyes on the stallion, so we headed cross country for an ambush.
Remember those layers keeping me warm on the drive out? Now, climbing up and down ridges at speed, sweat ran from my body, soaking everything. Isaac and Marcus were scampering like goats (or perhaps oryx), but my 55 year-old, sea level legs were burning and I was breathing hard. And loving every minute of it!
We must have hiked 2 miles or more chasing that zebra, eventually landing on a hillside we suspected the stallion to be on. Proceeded slowly and quietly, it was to no avail. The stallion detected us first and at no more than 50 yards away bolted from cover and over the hill before a shot could be taken.
Soaked in sweat (at least I was), we made our way back to the Land Cruiser and hopped aboard. Shortly, we saw another herd with a very big stallion at the tail end. They followed a river bed and we swung around to parallel them on another road. They picked up the pace so we sped ahead to set up and were ready when they moved off the river bed and started uphill. Marcus ranged the group at around 260 yards. I tracked the stallion through the scope, and about halfway up the slope he stopped and turned, giving me a clear quartering-frontal shot. Hyper-aware of my technique, I squeezed the trigger smoothly with a clean break. Through the scope I saw him crumple and heard the accompanying thwap! of a good hit. Came off the rifle expecting to see a down zebra but the guys were yelling “Reload! Reload!”. What?!! I was amazed to see the stallion get up and start running up the hill. Fortunately, about 30 yards in he collapsed and lay still. I will never underestimate the toughness of African game again! The bullet entered just inside the right shoulder, blasted through the top of the heart and lungs and exited through the opposite ribcage. And that stallion still was able to go 30 yards.
And what a beauty! I couldn’t have asked for a better representation and am so grateful to have had such an exciting experience.
Couldn’t believe it—a day and a half into my seven-day hunt and 2/3 of my list complete. 5 ½ days to get a kudu? Easy. Riiiiiiight…….
Hunting—Days 3 and 4
Day 3
We spent the afternoon of day two driving and glassing for kudu to no avail, but we were up bright and early again for Day 3. More driving, more young bulls and cows. And oryx. And zebra. And klipspringer. And baboons. Oh the baboons! I swear with no hyperbole there were 150 trillion baboon in those hills. Everywhere, sentries scampering away at the first sight of us. Nothing to even stalk. The other hunting group at Khomas contained another American, Karl (also a forum member) who had been hunting about a week already with great success also looked for kudu, but we both got skunked that morning. At lunch we joked with each other about being careful not to shoot “my kudu”.
The afternoon turned out no better, at least as far as kudu go. One thing about Africa, it is always giving you little gifts. Sure, there was no shootable bull on Day 3. But we made our way back to the lodge under a glorious sunset and a Honey Badger crossed our path. Who could complain?
To top it off, back at the lodge Karl’s truck approached and coming in took the upper drive, which leads to the processing area. He got his Kudu! A beautiful old bull with one slightly broken tip, great mass, and nice depth to his curls. Read Karl’s report to see him!
Understandably, the night was a great one for celebration! I haven’t mentioned the food at Khomas, but every meal was wonderful. oryx, kudu, zebra, red hartebeest, all prepared in simple, hearty, wonderful ways shared family-style with great people and lots of wine and stories.
Day 4
The previous day I mentioned to Isaac that since we weren’t having much luck with kudu, I’d be more than happy to take a break and try for some animals on my secondary list—blue wildebeest and waterbuck. Isaac agreed, not pursuing kudu would give them a break from the recent pressure and would be a nice break for us as well. Plus, if kudu turned out to be an unsuccessful pursuit, I’d hopefully have these others to fall back on.
For wildebeest we ventured to another farm not far from Khomas. A lovely property of rolling hills and lots of water. We saw large herds of eland, black and blue wildebeest (even a Golden bull), blesbok and many others. Our first herd turned out to be all cows, so we continued on. Before long we spotted a small group of three bulls, one of which looked good to shoot. They were still a fair distance away, maybe half a mile, but the walking was fairly easy so we set out on foot.
Getting near the top of a ridge, the other side of which we expected to see our bulls, thundering hooves and a cloud of dust announced our surprising of another, larger group. They sprinted off a couple hundred yards before stopping and commencing to graze. Another nice bull in this group, so we set to stalking. Plenty of vegetation and wind in our favor allowed us to get within 160 yards. We set up the sticks and sloooowly moved a little to the side of a bush for a clear shot. Some of the younger bulls became agitated. They knew something was up, but without catching our scent and no clear silhouette to identify stood facing us with occasional snorts and stamps at the ground. The focus of our attention was paying no mind, but was sandwiched between two others, so I got him in the scope and waited. Eventually the bull behind moved on, leaving the one in front. Our bull took a few steps forward for an unobstructed quartering-away shot. When hit, the bull bucked straight up, circled a few times and was down. It was one of those hunts that just went perfectly from start to finish and resulted in a really nice old bull. The afternoon would not be so textbook.
For our afternoon waterbuck we drove to another farm about 45 minutes to the west. It bordered a large reservoir and was lightly hunted, so it contained a fantastic population. Indeed, shortly into our hunt we saw a pretty nice buck a fair bit off resting in the shade of a tree, as the afternoon had not yet cooled. Unsure of just how nice, we stalked up on him to within a hundred yards, and though a fine buck, we could do better.
Driving and glassing commenced and later in the afternoon we spotted what looked to be a very big buck. I thought zebra and oryx were spooky, but I’m here to say that waterbuck scatter just as, if not more quickly! Every time we thought it might be a good opportunity for a stalk, they took off like they could read our minds. This cat and mouse went on for a while, but eventually we got into a good position about 200 yards away. Why, at this moment, I decided to dial in my turrets instead of using holdover I have no idea. But I did. Up on the sticks. Solid position. The big buck was using every bit of cover he could—trees, shrubs, rocks, does. You name it, he slunk from one bit of cover to another. But I followed him. He was now at about 230. No big deal. Suddenly, he was under a tree facing directly to us with nothing in the way. The trigger pull was smooth, but no thwap! no down buck. “Miss,” said Isaac. What the hell?! The herd had taken off (of course) so we set to following. Could not believe I missed! Everything felt perfect! I followed Isaac as we tried to get another bead on the buck, but my head was all out of sorts. We stopped to form a strategy and I looked at my scope—I dialed the turret the wrong direction! Even so, it was dialed more than it should have for the distance. Had it been bumped even before my mistake? Now I was beating myself up for being stupid and totally unsure of the scope—where was the zero set after changing the first day? I was pretty sure it was around 10, but I was now past 7. Ugh. I dialed it to where I thought my Namibian zero was and hoped for the best.
We reacquired the group, but only the does were in the open. The boys hung back and made their way upslope behind cover until we lost sight of them. But Isaac, God bless him, was undeterred, and made his best guess, heading for another ridge, Marcus and I close behind. After a bit of bushwhacking we came to a big leaf of stone jutting from the ground at about a 45 degree angle. Isaac motioned to get down, so I did and commando crawled up the stone face. The buck was on the other side—a little more than a hundred yards distant. In the open but not far from thick cover. I quickly slid the rifle up the rock until the forend rested on the knife edge of the rock. Got behind the rifle, flipped off the safety, acquired the buck in the scope and fired. This time we heard a solid hit. But the buck did not run. He jumped up a little bit, then started walking toward cover until he disappeared. We all saw blood from the shot, but didn’t want to spook him. I was ready to shoot again if he came out of cover, but after a few minutes there was no sight of him. Isaac called for Afex and Lucky, the tracking dog. Marcus, who had been watching through binos said, “You smoked him, mate. He’s done.” As Afex and Lucky came from the opposite side he radioed to say the big buck was down. He had walked about 20 yards and collapsed, shot through both lungs. I had a waterbuck, and was he something! The lesson from this hunt: locking turrets!!
Hunting—Days 5 and 6
Day 5
Not much to say about Day 5. We were after Kudu again. We started early, and I rezeroed my rifle to be confident it was where I needed it to be. Once more we drove and glassed, drove and glassed. We traveled far afield, going deep into the mountains where Karl and his group had seen a big bull. But nothing. More cows, more immature bulls. Oryx. Zebra. The whole cast of characters, but no kudu bull.
I mentioned Africa and her little gifts: Day 5 presented a couple. A pair of warthog sows trailed by two little piglets, jauntily trotting away. A giant monitor lizard that Marcus hopped off the truck to catch and we posed with before letting him on his way. Multiple jackals, some surprisingly close, crossed our path. And finally—towards the end of the day, a kudu bull! A good one, hanging out with a cow…on the wrong side of the fence, on property we could not hunt!
Skunked again, I was beginning to think kudu might not be in the cards. And I was okay with that. I had four great animals in the salt. Seen amazing sunrises and sunsets. Taken in all the big and small gifts Africa had given me. If the next two days were spent glassing cows and immature bulls, and warthog, and springbok, and my adorable steinbok does I would be content.
Of course, at dinner I presented a completely different theory. Day 1 and 2 provided two animals. Day 3 was a bust, Day 4 provided two, Day 5 a bust. The pattern was evident for anyone to see---Day 6 would provide! Additionally, my Day 6 was Karl’s last—and he must be present to celebrate my kudu. So we toasted the pattern and Karl’s required presence. We might have raised more than one glass.
Day 6
Two days left! Off we went for kudu. Again, we saw, I think, the same group of young bulls and cows seen all week. At least there was some familiarity. I swear I saw knowing nods from the group—“Hey, good to see ya. Have a fine day.” Back to the lodge for lunch and a nap.
Afternoon, not much different. Though I have to say, by this point my skills at spotting game were exponentially better than at the start. At one point I even pointed out two bulls before anyone else (though again, immature).
No luck again, we headed back to the lodge. Almost as an afterthought Afex called out, “kudu cow”. Wait a minute, a single cow? I think it hit us all at the same time—we had almost never seen cows in small groups, and the only time singles was with the bull on the wrong side of the fence. So we stopped and glassed. Almost immediately Isaac said, “The bull, The bull!” There he was, a bit obscured and 400 plus yards away. Darkness was coming fast, no time or cover to stalk from this position. We backed up and worked around to the flanking side and got within 300 yards before the cow spotted us. We stopped immediately, not wanting to push too hard. Trying to find him in the binoculars I trembled like the first day—this was it! Behind a rock, we saw only the tips of his horns. I set up for the shot. The sun was down and time was precious. The bull remained behind a rock but the cow seemed satisfied we were no danger and went back to browzing. She moved off to the left. If the bull followed, he would enter a clear space between the rock and a tree. Maybe a yard wide. Light was failing, it became more difficult to make things out through the scope. I switched on illumination. The scarlet reticle wobbled. Breathe. The buck moved to the right, where there was more brush. Was there a shot? No. Too thick. Breathe. He turned to follow the cow. Marcus whispered, “330.” No dialing. It was holdover time. He came through, I held for a high shoulder/spine shot, not wanting to risk a track in the dark. Fully in the space now. Don’t remember pulling the trigger, but the bull dropped like a stone! I admit to getting teary eyed. We spent over 30 hours looking for a kudu and it culminated in a last-light, quickly-taken shot that hit perfectly! When we got to him Isaac said with full confidence, “This is the bull from the first day.” A quick measurement showed a little over 48 inches. My Day 1 bull was indeed a Day 6 bull! And how magnificent he is!
Day 7 and Taking Leave
To say this hunt exceeded expectations would be a massive understatement. Not simply leaving with representative trophies of my top three, I had added on another two of equal or better quality. I had shot well, apart from a couple of flubs, and had made humane kills on all the hunts. I briefly considered using my final day to try for a warthog, or maybe a baboon, but I was truly satisfied with all that had happened. Instead, I took the morning to take photos of the animals that surrounded me all week. During the hunt, it’s difficult to do anything but scan with binoculars and when an opportunity arrives to take a picture it’s usually a quick snap with an iPhone. So it was a real treat to gather up my Nikon and hunt in a different way.
The afternoon was spent packing, double checking paperwork, napping (as I had a hard time sleeping after the kudu, such was the level of excitement). Then it was dinner and a final night at Khomas. Philip and his whole team, especially my constant companions Isaac, Afex and Marcus, had made this the safari people dream of. It’s impossible to express how grateful I am to them.
As Marcus drove me to the airport the next day, Africa offered up one final gift: a 3 ½ foot long zebra cobra in the road, head up and hood spread. He slithered off into the bushes before I could get a photo, but that remaining image and one more species added to my very long list made it clear just how special Africa is. So many have said it here, and I’ll ad to the chorus—this will not be my last time!
Epilogue—Bullet Performance
I’m adding this last little bit for those interested. There is always much discussion about bullet performance on game, and everybody has their favorites. As mentioned in the beginning, I brought two loads, one with Hornady ELDX and one with Barnes LRX. My feelings were that if the ELDX, which is my most accurate load, did not perform well in the field I would have another option that was only a little less precise.
In any event, as you can gather from the report, the Barnes load was never needed. The ELDX performed flawlessly, achieving deep penetration and inflicting massive tissue damage. Five fairly different scenarios: broadside through the heart; quartering-front; quartering away; broadside through both lungs; and broadside through both shoulders/spine. No follow-up shor required on any of the animals. Of the five, 3 bullets were recovered and I’ve attached photos here. As you can see, all expanded dramatically—in the case of the Wildebeest so much so that the jacket peeled back beyond the Interlok ring and there was separation of jacket and core. Some may see this as a problem, but I don’t—about 3000 ft-lbs of energy was all dumped directly into the chest cavity and did the job.
I’m sure the Barnes would have been just as effective given the same shot placement—they are wonderful bullets. But I would not hesitate to use the ELDX again for both accuracy and effectiveness.
I’m more of an avid shooter than hunter. I love tinkering with rifles and handloads and finding that perfect combination of powder and bullet that make for great accuracy. My friend Casey, however, lives to hunt and we’ve had great times chasing mule deer and antelope together. He spends many weeks hunting in Africa, and his stories, trophies, and love of the continent made it all but impossible to resist planning a trip for myself.
Over the last few years this plan came together. Conversations over a glass of bourbon with Casey, watched over by mounts of buffalo, oryx, nyala, kudu, and countless others; reading thread after thread on this forum; reaching out via PM to members and sponsors for advice; COVID delays—all culminated last year when I booked a 7-day hunt with Philip @KHOMAS HIGHLAND HUNTING SAFARIS in Namibia. Kudu, oryx and zebra were priorities, with possible add-ons of opportunity. I was going to Africa!
It seems like forever when you book over a year in advance. But I filled those months fine-tuning a load for my rifle—a 300 Win Mag built off a Savage action with a custom barrel and stock. Two loads proved the most accurate: one with 212 grain Hornady ELDXs traveling a little over 2700 fps and another with 200 grain Barnes LRX at just under 3000 fps. Fortunately, I found enough components to load for both practice and the hunt. Accuracy from the bench assured, I moved on to the sticks, knowing that misses would be due to poor technique and not the rifle. A tripod style didn’t work well but Blaser carbon fiber sticks allowed me to be accurate out to 300 yards, the limit of my local range. I studied pages of The Perfect Shot to be sure I knew just where to aim.
Jennifer from @TRAVEL EXPRESS was unbelievably helpful in organizing flights and making sure I had all the required paperwork (in quadruplicate—if that’s even a word). The long flight went from Portland to Chicago to Addis Ababa to Windhoek on Ethiopian Airlines. I confess to being extremely nervous about the connecting flight in Addis—only 35 minutes for the authorities to check my rifle and paperwork before moving on. Jennifer, always confident, assured that many hunters flew this route with no issues. As she put it—"they are extremely motivated to make sure you make the connection”. When my flight from O’Hare was delayed an hour I was sure I’d be stuck in Addis a while, but jet stream, airline schedule padding, and a little extra fuel burned got us into Addis right on time. A wonderful young man met me at right off the plane, whisked me to baggage for the rifle check and back to the tarmac with just enough margin to make my connection. I finally relaxed for the last 5 ½ hour leg. Airtags in both rifle case and checked bag confirmed both made the journey to Windhoek as well.
By mid-afternoon, I had been collected at the airport and driven to Khomas, about an hour and half journey. Once there I settled into my extremely comfortable room and after a (much needed) shower enjoyed a (much needed) beer in the clubhouse. I was given a short tour of the property—which is lovely and welcoming. Philip has a wonderful conservation/breeding program on the farm, so as the light of the day waned with a beer by the fire, I watched his herds of Sable, Giraffe, and Leweche wander about. I hadn’t yet started my week of hunting, but already felt good about my decision. I imagine most, if not all here, care a great deal about conservation and proper game management, and to see it as a big part of Philip’s operation was very satisfying.
Hunting—Day 1
After a decent night’s sleep, we met for coffee and breakfast at 6:30 am. By 7 we were loaded into the Land Cruiser and ready to go. My group consisted of our driver Afex, PH Isaac, and Marcus, an intern from New Zealand and guide in his own right. After a quick stop to zero in the rifle (a good thing, going from sea level in the Pacific Northwest to 5800 feet at camp had the rifle shooting 1.75 inches high at 100 yards)—we were on our way!
It’s hard to describe the feeling of awe and excitement, driving in the crisp morning air as the sun rises, seeing animals only experienced through TV or taxidermy. Oryx, springbok, red hartebeest, wildebeest, and warthog. It seemed a new species around every corner. I confess to being totally smitten by the delicate Steinbok does—so elegant with their big eyes and slick coats, they brought a smile with every sighting.
Eventually we saw a group of oryx with a nice bull and set off for a stalk. Winding behind ridges and keeping bushes and trees between, we started to get close-ish a couple of times but were always busted by these wily animals, either by a change in wind or a glimpse of movement. They were always a step ahead. I learned quickly that catching oryx by surprise, or any animal if oryx are around, is not an easy task—those suckers take off quick and carry all other game in their wake!
At one point we saw a kudu bull, the number one animal on my list. Isaac asked what I was looking for and I said certainly a mature bull, if we could find one 50+ inches I’d be ecstatic. He said this bull was pretty good, probably about 48. We decided to pass on the stalk, it was only morning of the first day. Maybe he’s not a Day 1 Kudu, more like a Day 6 Kudu.
That morning session we saw a ton of game but could not manage a successful stalk. At lunch, I considered it probably a good thing—I felt the adrenaline dump every time we left the truck and am not sure I could have made a good shot. Funny how that works; you can be as confident in yourself and your equipment as possible, have experience hunting and killing, and yet you get in the field surrounded by these magnificent animals and the rush is so intense you have a hard time breathing properly. It’s truly exhilarating!
After lunch and a nap we resumed at 3:30—still warm but we headed straight to the mountains. Here the expertise of Isaac really shone. He would point out animals left and right that took me forever to find, even with binoculars. “Oryx, kudu cow, young bull, springbok, impala” he’d say, pointing in a direction where I saw only trees and bush, maybe a flash of color as animals scattered at the sound of the truck. The afternoon continued this way, stopping to glass the hillsides but not finding any good shooters. Lots of kudu cows and some immature bulls, usually ranging from 1 to 1 ½ curls. Plenty of oryx as well, though nothing that really piqued Isaac’s interest.
Towards the end of the afternoon we rounded a bend in the road and Isaac suddenly said, “Stop!”. A herd of about a dozen oryx grazed the hillside opposite the valley and had neither heard nor seen the truck. We backed the Land Cruiser up a few yards to remain behind a ridge and hopped out—crouching low and moving slow into position to glass the herd. A spot on a rock shelf under a tree allowed us to remain unobserved. Marcus said, “look for a pizzle”, and indeed, there was a nice bull in the group, remarkably standing by himself on a rock ledge, broadside to us as his girls grazed.
There was no space to set up the sticks but the shelf made for a decent prone position. The bull ranged at 300 yards a little below our position. This happened to be exactly at the second hash mark below the center of my reticle. Behind the rifle and lined up, that reticle wavered all over the place. Adrenaline again. I’m sure Isaac and Marcus were both wondered why I had not taken the shot, but my breath came ragged and shallow and I needed more composure. Thank goodness, we were still undetected. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. The reticle still moved a more than I liked but was manageable. I squeezed carefully at the end of a breath when that second hash passed just behind the shoulder. A good shot! The bull jumped up, tried to run down the slope but only made it a few yards before collapsing and sliding a downhill to a stop. My first African animal! Once to him, we discovered a good hit—just behind the shoulder, below the scapula; right where the red dot is placed in The Perfect Shot. The bullet could be felt under the skin on the opposite side above the elbow. Relief—all that practice time and load development paid off!
Hunting—Day 2
Another cold, clear morning in Namibia. The horizon glowed pink as we returned to the mountains to look for zebra and kudu. Glad I had brought layers for the trip as tooling along in the open back of the Land Cruiser was cold, but as we drove and the sun began to show itself properly the day began to warm.
Remarkably, the day before we had not seen a single Zebra but this morning they were everywhere. You would think the start contrast of black on white would jump out of the landscape, but time and again I needed animals pointed out. Long trains traversing far away mountain faces like mules making their way down the Grand Canyon. We would glass zebra at 1000 yards or more and clearly we had been spotted first—they wound their way over a ridge and out of sight, sometimes at a leisurely walk, other times at a trot, but always putting distance between us. With numbers in our favor, it didn’t take long to find a closer group. One small herd led by a stallion crossed in front of us and started up a nearby rise. We jumped out of the truck and got up on the sticks, Isaac instructing me to shoot “the one in the front”. I was just set and finding the stallion in the scope when the wind changed, and I could feel it now on the back of my neck. In a flash they were off and over the hill.
We followed on foot, Isaac expertly picking tracks out of the dirt. We went slowly, hoping they might have stopped once free of our scent, but all we did was jump a couple of oryx that took off just as quickly. Isaac noted the direction the zebra travelled, and we went back to the truck.
Driving roads going in the general direction of the escaped herd, we soon spotted zebra on a far ridge. Was it the same herd? I have no idea but would not be surprised given the tracking skills and instinct Isaac was to show over the week. There was a smaller ridge inbetween offering a good chance at a stalk to bring us within 2-300 yards.
Climbing carefully, we stayed together and kept ridge and vegetation between us and the zebra as much as possible. Closer now and occasionally glimpsing the herd, not yet aware of us. We were now less than 400 yards away. Not more than 60 yards from a great shooting position a small group of oryx popped up and sprinted away. The zebra caught their movement and likewise got the hell outta Dodge.
On our way back to meet the truck we spotted a lone stallion down in the river bed. We quickly crouched and ranged him at around 250 yards. Carefully setting up the sticks, I was soon in a great position at a broadside shot. The angle was steep, likely 50 degrees or more, but my binoculars calculated the angle into proper shooting solution. All looked perfect but I tensed, pushed forward on the rifle at the trigger pull, the barrel dipped, and I shot under the stallion. I knew immediately it was a clean miss, and further glassing showed this to be the case. Because he wasn’t totally spooked we figured we could follow and catch up again. Afex our driver had eyes on the stallion, so we headed cross country for an ambush.
Remember those layers keeping me warm on the drive out? Now, climbing up and down ridges at speed, sweat ran from my body, soaking everything. Isaac and Marcus were scampering like goats (or perhaps oryx), but my 55 year-old, sea level legs were burning and I was breathing hard. And loving every minute of it!
We must have hiked 2 miles or more chasing that zebra, eventually landing on a hillside we suspected the stallion to be on. Proceeded slowly and quietly, it was to no avail. The stallion detected us first and at no more than 50 yards away bolted from cover and over the hill before a shot could be taken.
Soaked in sweat (at least I was), we made our way back to the Land Cruiser and hopped aboard. Shortly, we saw another herd with a very big stallion at the tail end. They followed a river bed and we swung around to parallel them on another road. They picked up the pace so we sped ahead to set up and were ready when they moved off the river bed and started uphill. Marcus ranged the group at around 260 yards. I tracked the stallion through the scope, and about halfway up the slope he stopped and turned, giving me a clear quartering-frontal shot. Hyper-aware of my technique, I squeezed the trigger smoothly with a clean break. Through the scope I saw him crumple and heard the accompanying thwap! of a good hit. Came off the rifle expecting to see a down zebra but the guys were yelling “Reload! Reload!”. What?!! I was amazed to see the stallion get up and start running up the hill. Fortunately, about 30 yards in he collapsed and lay still. I will never underestimate the toughness of African game again! The bullet entered just inside the right shoulder, blasted through the top of the heart and lungs and exited through the opposite ribcage. And that stallion still was able to go 30 yards.
And what a beauty! I couldn’t have asked for a better representation and am so grateful to have had such an exciting experience.
Couldn’t believe it—a day and a half into my seven-day hunt and 2/3 of my list complete. 5 ½ days to get a kudu? Easy. Riiiiiiight…….
Hunting—Days 3 and 4
Day 3
We spent the afternoon of day two driving and glassing for kudu to no avail, but we were up bright and early again for Day 3. More driving, more young bulls and cows. And oryx. And zebra. And klipspringer. And baboons. Oh the baboons! I swear with no hyperbole there were 150 trillion baboon in those hills. Everywhere, sentries scampering away at the first sight of us. Nothing to even stalk. The other hunting group at Khomas contained another American, Karl (also a forum member) who had been hunting about a week already with great success also looked for kudu, but we both got skunked that morning. At lunch we joked with each other about being careful not to shoot “my kudu”.
The afternoon turned out no better, at least as far as kudu go. One thing about Africa, it is always giving you little gifts. Sure, there was no shootable bull on Day 3. But we made our way back to the lodge under a glorious sunset and a Honey Badger crossed our path. Who could complain?
To top it off, back at the lodge Karl’s truck approached and coming in took the upper drive, which leads to the processing area. He got his Kudu! A beautiful old bull with one slightly broken tip, great mass, and nice depth to his curls. Read Karl’s report to see him!
Understandably, the night was a great one for celebration! I haven’t mentioned the food at Khomas, but every meal was wonderful. oryx, kudu, zebra, red hartebeest, all prepared in simple, hearty, wonderful ways shared family-style with great people and lots of wine and stories.
Day 4
The previous day I mentioned to Isaac that since we weren’t having much luck with kudu, I’d be more than happy to take a break and try for some animals on my secondary list—blue wildebeest and waterbuck. Isaac agreed, not pursuing kudu would give them a break from the recent pressure and would be a nice break for us as well. Plus, if kudu turned out to be an unsuccessful pursuit, I’d hopefully have these others to fall back on.
For wildebeest we ventured to another farm not far from Khomas. A lovely property of rolling hills and lots of water. We saw large herds of eland, black and blue wildebeest (even a Golden bull), blesbok and many others. Our first herd turned out to be all cows, so we continued on. Before long we spotted a small group of three bulls, one of which looked good to shoot. They were still a fair distance away, maybe half a mile, but the walking was fairly easy so we set out on foot.
Getting near the top of a ridge, the other side of which we expected to see our bulls, thundering hooves and a cloud of dust announced our surprising of another, larger group. They sprinted off a couple hundred yards before stopping and commencing to graze. Another nice bull in this group, so we set to stalking. Plenty of vegetation and wind in our favor allowed us to get within 160 yards. We set up the sticks and sloooowly moved a little to the side of a bush for a clear shot. Some of the younger bulls became agitated. They knew something was up, but without catching our scent and no clear silhouette to identify stood facing us with occasional snorts and stamps at the ground. The focus of our attention was paying no mind, but was sandwiched between two others, so I got him in the scope and waited. Eventually the bull behind moved on, leaving the one in front. Our bull took a few steps forward for an unobstructed quartering-away shot. When hit, the bull bucked straight up, circled a few times and was down. It was one of those hunts that just went perfectly from start to finish and resulted in a really nice old bull. The afternoon would not be so textbook.
For our afternoon waterbuck we drove to another farm about 45 minutes to the west. It bordered a large reservoir and was lightly hunted, so it contained a fantastic population. Indeed, shortly into our hunt we saw a pretty nice buck a fair bit off resting in the shade of a tree, as the afternoon had not yet cooled. Unsure of just how nice, we stalked up on him to within a hundred yards, and though a fine buck, we could do better.
Driving and glassing commenced and later in the afternoon we spotted what looked to be a very big buck. I thought zebra and oryx were spooky, but I’m here to say that waterbuck scatter just as, if not more quickly! Every time we thought it might be a good opportunity for a stalk, they took off like they could read our minds. This cat and mouse went on for a while, but eventually we got into a good position about 200 yards away. Why, at this moment, I decided to dial in my turrets instead of using holdover I have no idea. But I did. Up on the sticks. Solid position. The big buck was using every bit of cover he could—trees, shrubs, rocks, does. You name it, he slunk from one bit of cover to another. But I followed him. He was now at about 230. No big deal. Suddenly, he was under a tree facing directly to us with nothing in the way. The trigger pull was smooth, but no thwap! no down buck. “Miss,” said Isaac. What the hell?! The herd had taken off (of course) so we set to following. Could not believe I missed! Everything felt perfect! I followed Isaac as we tried to get another bead on the buck, but my head was all out of sorts. We stopped to form a strategy and I looked at my scope—I dialed the turret the wrong direction! Even so, it was dialed more than it should have for the distance. Had it been bumped even before my mistake? Now I was beating myself up for being stupid and totally unsure of the scope—where was the zero set after changing the first day? I was pretty sure it was around 10, but I was now past 7. Ugh. I dialed it to where I thought my Namibian zero was and hoped for the best.
We reacquired the group, but only the does were in the open. The boys hung back and made their way upslope behind cover until we lost sight of them. But Isaac, God bless him, was undeterred, and made his best guess, heading for another ridge, Marcus and I close behind. After a bit of bushwhacking we came to a big leaf of stone jutting from the ground at about a 45 degree angle. Isaac motioned to get down, so I did and commando crawled up the stone face. The buck was on the other side—a little more than a hundred yards distant. In the open but not far from thick cover. I quickly slid the rifle up the rock until the forend rested on the knife edge of the rock. Got behind the rifle, flipped off the safety, acquired the buck in the scope and fired. This time we heard a solid hit. But the buck did not run. He jumped up a little bit, then started walking toward cover until he disappeared. We all saw blood from the shot, but didn’t want to spook him. I was ready to shoot again if he came out of cover, but after a few minutes there was no sight of him. Isaac called for Afex and Lucky, the tracking dog. Marcus, who had been watching through binos said, “You smoked him, mate. He’s done.” As Afex and Lucky came from the opposite side he radioed to say the big buck was down. He had walked about 20 yards and collapsed, shot through both lungs. I had a waterbuck, and was he something! The lesson from this hunt: locking turrets!!
Hunting—Days 5 and 6
Day 5
Not much to say about Day 5. We were after Kudu again. We started early, and I rezeroed my rifle to be confident it was where I needed it to be. Once more we drove and glassed, drove and glassed. We traveled far afield, going deep into the mountains where Karl and his group had seen a big bull. But nothing. More cows, more immature bulls. Oryx. Zebra. The whole cast of characters, but no kudu bull.
I mentioned Africa and her little gifts: Day 5 presented a couple. A pair of warthog sows trailed by two little piglets, jauntily trotting away. A giant monitor lizard that Marcus hopped off the truck to catch and we posed with before letting him on his way. Multiple jackals, some surprisingly close, crossed our path. And finally—towards the end of the day, a kudu bull! A good one, hanging out with a cow…on the wrong side of the fence, on property we could not hunt!
Skunked again, I was beginning to think kudu might not be in the cards. And I was okay with that. I had four great animals in the salt. Seen amazing sunrises and sunsets. Taken in all the big and small gifts Africa had given me. If the next two days were spent glassing cows and immature bulls, and warthog, and springbok, and my adorable steinbok does I would be content.
Of course, at dinner I presented a completely different theory. Day 1 and 2 provided two animals. Day 3 was a bust, Day 4 provided two, Day 5 a bust. The pattern was evident for anyone to see---Day 6 would provide! Additionally, my Day 6 was Karl’s last—and he must be present to celebrate my kudu. So we toasted the pattern and Karl’s required presence. We might have raised more than one glass.
Day 6
Two days left! Off we went for kudu. Again, we saw, I think, the same group of young bulls and cows seen all week. At least there was some familiarity. I swear I saw knowing nods from the group—“Hey, good to see ya. Have a fine day.” Back to the lodge for lunch and a nap.
Afternoon, not much different. Though I have to say, by this point my skills at spotting game were exponentially better than at the start. At one point I even pointed out two bulls before anyone else (though again, immature).
No luck again, we headed back to the lodge. Almost as an afterthought Afex called out, “kudu cow”. Wait a minute, a single cow? I think it hit us all at the same time—we had almost never seen cows in small groups, and the only time singles was with the bull on the wrong side of the fence. So we stopped and glassed. Almost immediately Isaac said, “The bull, The bull!” There he was, a bit obscured and 400 plus yards away. Darkness was coming fast, no time or cover to stalk from this position. We backed up and worked around to the flanking side and got within 300 yards before the cow spotted us. We stopped immediately, not wanting to push too hard. Trying to find him in the binoculars I trembled like the first day—this was it! Behind a rock, we saw only the tips of his horns. I set up for the shot. The sun was down and time was precious. The bull remained behind a rock but the cow seemed satisfied we were no danger and went back to browzing. She moved off to the left. If the bull followed, he would enter a clear space between the rock and a tree. Maybe a yard wide. Light was failing, it became more difficult to make things out through the scope. I switched on illumination. The scarlet reticle wobbled. Breathe. The buck moved to the right, where there was more brush. Was there a shot? No. Too thick. Breathe. He turned to follow the cow. Marcus whispered, “330.” No dialing. It was holdover time. He came through, I held for a high shoulder/spine shot, not wanting to risk a track in the dark. Fully in the space now. Don’t remember pulling the trigger, but the bull dropped like a stone! I admit to getting teary eyed. We spent over 30 hours looking for a kudu and it culminated in a last-light, quickly-taken shot that hit perfectly! When we got to him Isaac said with full confidence, “This is the bull from the first day.” A quick measurement showed a little over 48 inches. My Day 1 bull was indeed a Day 6 bull! And how magnificent he is!
Day 7 and Taking Leave
To say this hunt exceeded expectations would be a massive understatement. Not simply leaving with representative trophies of my top three, I had added on another two of equal or better quality. I had shot well, apart from a couple of flubs, and had made humane kills on all the hunts. I briefly considered using my final day to try for a warthog, or maybe a baboon, but I was truly satisfied with all that had happened. Instead, I took the morning to take photos of the animals that surrounded me all week. During the hunt, it’s difficult to do anything but scan with binoculars and when an opportunity arrives to take a picture it’s usually a quick snap with an iPhone. So it was a real treat to gather up my Nikon and hunt in a different way.
The afternoon was spent packing, double checking paperwork, napping (as I had a hard time sleeping after the kudu, such was the level of excitement). Then it was dinner and a final night at Khomas. Philip and his whole team, especially my constant companions Isaac, Afex and Marcus, had made this the safari people dream of. It’s impossible to express how grateful I am to them.
As Marcus drove me to the airport the next day, Africa offered up one final gift: a 3 ½ foot long zebra cobra in the road, head up and hood spread. He slithered off into the bushes before I could get a photo, but that remaining image and one more species added to my very long list made it clear just how special Africa is. So many have said it here, and I’ll ad to the chorus—this will not be my last time!
Epilogue—Bullet Performance
I’m adding this last little bit for those interested. There is always much discussion about bullet performance on game, and everybody has their favorites. As mentioned in the beginning, I brought two loads, one with Hornady ELDX and one with Barnes LRX. My feelings were that if the ELDX, which is my most accurate load, did not perform well in the field I would have another option that was only a little less precise.
In any event, as you can gather from the report, the Barnes load was never needed. The ELDX performed flawlessly, achieving deep penetration and inflicting massive tissue damage. Five fairly different scenarios: broadside through the heart; quartering-front; quartering away; broadside through both lungs; and broadside through both shoulders/spine. No follow-up shor required on any of the animals. Of the five, 3 bullets were recovered and I’ve attached photos here. As you can see, all expanded dramatically—in the case of the Wildebeest so much so that the jacket peeled back beyond the Interlok ring and there was separation of jacket and core. Some may see this as a problem, but I don’t—about 3000 ft-lbs of energy was all dumped directly into the chest cavity and did the job.
I’m sure the Barnes would have been just as effective given the same shot placement—they are wonderful bullets. But I would not hesitate to use the ELDX again for both accuracy and effectiveness.
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