Tom Leoni
AH fanatic
Some use a rifle so they can hunt. Others hunt so they can use specific rifles. Like me, for example.
It was 1995 or thereabouts when NRA launched a publication program featuring reprints of hunting and firearm classics, all nicely bound in pigskin and gold accents and complete with matching silk bookmarks. The first title they republished—and the only one I’ve read multiple times cover to cover—was John Taylor’s African Rifles and Cartridges, a Bible of sorts for British ordnance and terminal ballistics for the Dark Continent. Back then, I was a semi-starving student finishing his MBA at Texas Christian University in Ft. Worth—as far (geographically and financially) from African big-game hunting as any 20-something-year-old will ever be. Yet, this book changed my life.
I saved money each month so I could buy myself a .416 Rigby Ruger No. 1 (which I have since sold)—bought just in case Babar would escape from the local zoo and turn rogue in my white-picket-fenced neighborhood—and got my hands on anything I could read about the Africa of yore. Stigand, Bell, Selous, Patterson—I devoured it all with a zest that only a youthful heart can bestow.
Fast forward more years than I care to count, and safaris have become a reality for me. This year, in particular, I was determined to finish my spiral-horned slam in South Africa with @KAROO WILD Safaris, a tremendous outfit with whom I’ve already hunted and that has treated me like royalty while giving me the memories of a lifetime. Karoo Wild is based in the Eastern cape and has access to hundreds of thousands of wild acres teeming with (among other animals) over 40 species of plains game with the highest kudu density in Africa.
Besides the game, obviously a focus of any hunt, my goal was to use my classic rifles. In particular, two rifles that are perhaps (albeit in different ways) the pinnacle of my collection. My passion for hunting has in time turned into a profession within the firearm industry, so I’ve been able to elevate myself a bit higher than eating Ramen noodles and lollypops to save for a whimsical purchase. So a few years ago I decided to buy myself the ultimate rifle—one with which I could hunt anything that walks while experiencing the sweet inebriation of pride of ownership and the joy of giving a soul back to an old classic. This is what I took—for the second time—to South Africa, along with a brand-new (yet older) comrade of which I’ll speak momentarily.
Rifle No. 1: Holland & Holland Falling Block, .375 Flanged Magnum
When it appeared on Gunsinternational, it simply screamed to me. I knew nothing about the seller, but the rifle’s maker, its lines, its description, its caliber, its apparent usability, truly commanded me “make me yours.” And I did. All that I learned afterwards about this incredible rifle, I learned after making the commitment to buy.
The rifle is a Holland & Holland falling block—one of the many variants of the Farquharson action—made in 1925, when this system was well on the wane. The specific design of the action is a Webley & Scott patent (1902), a particularly-strong version of this single-shot system with an automatic shotgun-style tang safety and a perfectly quiet lever operation. The rifle is chambered for the .375 Flanged Magnum Nitro Express, i.e., the rimmed version of the 1912-vintage .375 H&H known to most hunters to this day. It sports a 26” barrel with ramp front and single-leaf rear sight foldable to 50 or 200 yards--and it tips the scales at just shy of 10lbs.
Sometimes after the second world war, this rifle was outfitted with German-style claw mounts, and came to me with a very usable—and nearly 100% ideal—Zeiss Diatal-C 6x32 scope. Alas, the Lyman tang sight with which it was originally sold did not come with the rifle as it arrived to me. One of my missions is to find the correct model and have it re-fitted in the pre-drilled holes behind the safety catch. The original H&H ledger from 1925, of which I have a photocopy, specified that it was custom made for someone named Harper.
One of the many amazing features of this rifles is that it liked the very first handload that I tested it with. A 270-gr Speer boat-tail spitzer pushed at a chronographed 2,430 fps atop 68 grains of Alliant RL-15 delivered just under an inch at 100 yards—and without me even having to touch the scope settings! Five shots grouped nicely about 1 ½” above the bull, giving me a dead-on zero at 200 yards and a mere -3” at 250. Mild, accurate, and in that “magic” zone between 2,000 and 2,400 fps that somehow makes bullets stay together and penetrate.
Lastly, Mr. Wal Winfer, author of British Single Shot Rifles, Vol. 5 – Holland & Holland, thought this rifle noteworthy enough to be listed in his book. As a small concession to personal vanity, I had the silver oval engraved with my initials—otherwise the H&H is 100% unaltered from how I received it.
This is the first rifle I ever took to Africa. It will accompany me there every time. But perhaps it will have to share at least part of the glory with a friend...
Rifle No. 2: Watson Brothers Martini Sporter, .303 British
If you’re like me, you can probably relate. “This is the last rifle I’ll buy because it’s the last rifle I’ll ever need.” And yet, just a few weeks later here you are writing a check to another seller, salivating at the prospect of owning the next “last rifle” in your collection. Such was the case for me when, here on the very pages of AH, a very kind gentleman advertised a Martini-action Watson Brothers sporter in the super-classic caliber .303 British. I knew it had to be mine.
This 1896-vintage rifle has all the features of a classic British stalking rifle—proportions as sexy to me as the measurements of the Venus de Milo. A pistolgrip stock with a trim forend with horn tip, a 23.5” barrel with a full-length rib topped by express leaves graduated to 300 yards and a military ladder-style sight for longer-range shooting—the whole weighing a scant 6.5lbs.
This rifle had to come to Africa with me. Two small issues that would affect my ability to apply for a temporary export license: no serial number and no caliber designation. I decided to solve these problems by having the two numbers etched, tastefully and in the same font as the existing lettering, on the barrel and receiver. The caliber designation now reads. .303 next to the original “nitro proved” wording, while my own birthday, the twentyseventh of August—2708--is inscribed just ahead of the trigger guard as a way of a serial number.
The much harder obstacle to face was the scarcity of components for reloading. I had figured out it liked Federal Power-Shok 174gr factory loads, but the problem was that I only had a box of 20 left and week after week, no matter how hard I searched, I could not find any more. I longed for Hornady’s 174gr round nose Interlock (.312” instead of the more common .311”), but it was sold out even from the factory, with no lots forthcoming prior to my safari. I lucked into three boxes of Hawk 215gr spitzers, but I had scant time to play with different loads before leaving—so I ended up having three boxes of custom-loaded Hornadys expedited from Colorado Custom Cartridge Co., which grouped decently about 1” above the bull at 100 yards. Fingers crossed.
Both my rifles came with the quintessentially-English large swivel eyes—one mounted on the buttstock, one soldered to the barrel—and I furnished them with appropriate tong-style slings tied in the classic three-turn clinch knot. Besides the modern propellants in lieu of cordite, my ordnance for this safari could very well have seen action 100 years ago under the guidance of a Bill Judd or a Philip Percival.
As I locked the Pelican case in preparation for my trip from Virginia to the Eastern Cape, I had designated the H&H as my primary rifle and the Martini as my open-sighted specialty number for bushbuck. What seemed like an eternity later, the South Africa Airlink plane was slowly descending into Port Elizabeth and even the mother of all jet lags could not dampen my enthusiasm and anticipation.
Under that blanket of early-morning clouds, my adventure was about to begin. And my PH—Victor “Iron-Man” Watson of Karoo Wild safaris would be there to collect me for the second time in less than a year. I knew I would love this hunt. What I didn't know (yet) was that one particular day on this hunt would be the absolute best so far in my lifetime.
End of part 1.
It was 1995 or thereabouts when NRA launched a publication program featuring reprints of hunting and firearm classics, all nicely bound in pigskin and gold accents and complete with matching silk bookmarks. The first title they republished—and the only one I’ve read multiple times cover to cover—was John Taylor’s African Rifles and Cartridges, a Bible of sorts for British ordnance and terminal ballistics for the Dark Continent. Back then, I was a semi-starving student finishing his MBA at Texas Christian University in Ft. Worth—as far (geographically and financially) from African big-game hunting as any 20-something-year-old will ever be. Yet, this book changed my life.
I saved money each month so I could buy myself a .416 Rigby Ruger No. 1 (which I have since sold)—bought just in case Babar would escape from the local zoo and turn rogue in my white-picket-fenced neighborhood—and got my hands on anything I could read about the Africa of yore. Stigand, Bell, Selous, Patterson—I devoured it all with a zest that only a youthful heart can bestow.
Fast forward more years than I care to count, and safaris have become a reality for me. This year, in particular, I was determined to finish my spiral-horned slam in South Africa with @KAROO WILD Safaris, a tremendous outfit with whom I’ve already hunted and that has treated me like royalty while giving me the memories of a lifetime. Karoo Wild is based in the Eastern cape and has access to hundreds of thousands of wild acres teeming with (among other animals) over 40 species of plains game with the highest kudu density in Africa.
Besides the game, obviously a focus of any hunt, my goal was to use my classic rifles. In particular, two rifles that are perhaps (albeit in different ways) the pinnacle of my collection. My passion for hunting has in time turned into a profession within the firearm industry, so I’ve been able to elevate myself a bit higher than eating Ramen noodles and lollypops to save for a whimsical purchase. So a few years ago I decided to buy myself the ultimate rifle—one with which I could hunt anything that walks while experiencing the sweet inebriation of pride of ownership and the joy of giving a soul back to an old classic. This is what I took—for the second time—to South Africa, along with a brand-new (yet older) comrade of which I’ll speak momentarily.
Rifle No. 1: Holland & Holland Falling Block, .375 Flanged Magnum
When it appeared on Gunsinternational, it simply screamed to me. I knew nothing about the seller, but the rifle’s maker, its lines, its description, its caliber, its apparent usability, truly commanded me “make me yours.” And I did. All that I learned afterwards about this incredible rifle, I learned after making the commitment to buy.
The rifle is a Holland & Holland falling block—one of the many variants of the Farquharson action—made in 1925, when this system was well on the wane. The specific design of the action is a Webley & Scott patent (1902), a particularly-strong version of this single-shot system with an automatic shotgun-style tang safety and a perfectly quiet lever operation. The rifle is chambered for the .375 Flanged Magnum Nitro Express, i.e., the rimmed version of the 1912-vintage .375 H&H known to most hunters to this day. It sports a 26” barrel with ramp front and single-leaf rear sight foldable to 50 or 200 yards--and it tips the scales at just shy of 10lbs.
Sometimes after the second world war, this rifle was outfitted with German-style claw mounts, and came to me with a very usable—and nearly 100% ideal—Zeiss Diatal-C 6x32 scope. Alas, the Lyman tang sight with which it was originally sold did not come with the rifle as it arrived to me. One of my missions is to find the correct model and have it re-fitted in the pre-drilled holes behind the safety catch. The original H&H ledger from 1925, of which I have a photocopy, specified that it was custom made for someone named Harper.
One of the many amazing features of this rifles is that it liked the very first handload that I tested it with. A 270-gr Speer boat-tail spitzer pushed at a chronographed 2,430 fps atop 68 grains of Alliant RL-15 delivered just under an inch at 100 yards—and without me even having to touch the scope settings! Five shots grouped nicely about 1 ½” above the bull, giving me a dead-on zero at 200 yards and a mere -3” at 250. Mild, accurate, and in that “magic” zone between 2,000 and 2,400 fps that somehow makes bullets stay together and penetrate.
Lastly, Mr. Wal Winfer, author of British Single Shot Rifles, Vol. 5 – Holland & Holland, thought this rifle noteworthy enough to be listed in his book. As a small concession to personal vanity, I had the silver oval engraved with my initials—otherwise the H&H is 100% unaltered from how I received it.
This is the first rifle I ever took to Africa. It will accompany me there every time. But perhaps it will have to share at least part of the glory with a friend...
Rifle No. 2: Watson Brothers Martini Sporter, .303 British
If you’re like me, you can probably relate. “This is the last rifle I’ll buy because it’s the last rifle I’ll ever need.” And yet, just a few weeks later here you are writing a check to another seller, salivating at the prospect of owning the next “last rifle” in your collection. Such was the case for me when, here on the very pages of AH, a very kind gentleman advertised a Martini-action Watson Brothers sporter in the super-classic caliber .303 British. I knew it had to be mine.
This 1896-vintage rifle has all the features of a classic British stalking rifle—proportions as sexy to me as the measurements of the Venus de Milo. A pistolgrip stock with a trim forend with horn tip, a 23.5” barrel with a full-length rib topped by express leaves graduated to 300 yards and a military ladder-style sight for longer-range shooting—the whole weighing a scant 6.5lbs.
This rifle had to come to Africa with me. Two small issues that would affect my ability to apply for a temporary export license: no serial number and no caliber designation. I decided to solve these problems by having the two numbers etched, tastefully and in the same font as the existing lettering, on the barrel and receiver. The caliber designation now reads. .303 next to the original “nitro proved” wording, while my own birthday, the twentyseventh of August—2708--is inscribed just ahead of the trigger guard as a way of a serial number.
The much harder obstacle to face was the scarcity of components for reloading. I had figured out it liked Federal Power-Shok 174gr factory loads, but the problem was that I only had a box of 20 left and week after week, no matter how hard I searched, I could not find any more. I longed for Hornady’s 174gr round nose Interlock (.312” instead of the more common .311”), but it was sold out even from the factory, with no lots forthcoming prior to my safari. I lucked into three boxes of Hawk 215gr spitzers, but I had scant time to play with different loads before leaving—so I ended up having three boxes of custom-loaded Hornadys expedited from Colorado Custom Cartridge Co., which grouped decently about 1” above the bull at 100 yards. Fingers crossed.
Both my rifles came with the quintessentially-English large swivel eyes—one mounted on the buttstock, one soldered to the barrel—and I furnished them with appropriate tong-style slings tied in the classic three-turn clinch knot. Besides the modern propellants in lieu of cordite, my ordnance for this safari could very well have seen action 100 years ago under the guidance of a Bill Judd or a Philip Percival.
As I locked the Pelican case in preparation for my trip from Virginia to the Eastern Cape, I had designated the H&H as my primary rifle and the Martini as my open-sighted specialty number for bushbuck. What seemed like an eternity later, the South Africa Airlink plane was slowly descending into Port Elizabeth and even the mother of all jet lags could not dampen my enthusiasm and anticipation.
Under that blanket of early-morning clouds, my adventure was about to begin. And my PH—Victor “Iron-Man” Watson of Karoo Wild safaris would be there to collect me for the second time in less than a year. I knew I would love this hunt. What I didn't know (yet) was that one particular day on this hunt would be the absolute best so far in my lifetime.
End of part 1.
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Classic rifle hunt what is not to like!
