SOUTH AFRICA: Great Land Safaris Goes Buck Wild Pt 2

Day 6 Travel continued

If you read Part 1, https://www.africahunting.com/threads/south-africa-aaa-serapa-goes-buck-wild-2018-pt-1.44702/ you know I have just spent 6 days hunting the Kalahari celebrating my 50th birthday celebration trip and 10 year wedding anniversary. We are now in route to the Waterberg Mountains in the Limpopo region to hunt with Great Land Safaris owner/PH John Henry Keyser. I hunted here in 2015 and had a very successful trip.

2015 report https://www.africahunting.com/threads/south-africa-mountains-valleys.24615/

Our driver to our next destination is a retired area traffic police officer. As we head back toward Vryburg, he feels compelled to point out all the local farms and their owners. So much so that he calls a friend to ask where his family member lives in the States to see if we might know them. Apparently Wisconsin, probably 2,000 miles from us. We are back tracking our route from Joberg. Delareyville past the Barberspan Nature Reserve with the large lake, and through Sannieshof. At the Biesiesvlei junction we go straight toward Lichtenburg instead of south to Joberg. It’s still mostly agricultural fields this way with lots of smoke from the burning fields. Every small town we go through has a lengthy line down the sidewalk in front of the ATM machine. I haven’t seen lines like that in the States since the last Apple phone release. There is a minimum of 50 up to 100 people in line at every one. No matter the reason, the streets are full of people. It’s a Saturday and energy is in the air at every place we pass through. People are laughing, walking together and yes no joke, interacting with each other! We could use more of this State side.

After 3 hrs we arrive at the halfway meeting spot. John Henry, owner and operator of Great Land Safari, is in the parking lot waiting. We exchange goodbyes with our driver, make a quick restroom break and start toward Thabazimbi by way of Sun City around Rustenburg. Along the highway we spot a true African entrepreneur. He has a makeshift, roadside work shop with a cutting torch, welder and several mufflers hanging from the branches of a tree. I ask John Henry how anyone would know if these three mufflers would fit their vehicle. John Henry confidently replies, “Oh they’ll make them fit ANYTHING!”

In addition to the small towns, we also drive by several shanty towns that have sprung up in the area fields. Other rural culture we encounter include multiple stalled vehicles parked in the middle of the highway with no apparent effort to move them off the road, packed minivans heading into town and young, unaccompanied children playing on the roadside.

Talk turns to hunting and upon learning I’m stil in search of sable, John Henry shows me a pic of a sable that he knows the general whereabouts on. I start to get a little excited I must admit.



We stop in a gas station and spot these. I thought they were funny.



We skirt the Pilanesberg National Park and see the large mines in the area. Shortly before we arrive in the Sun City area, the terrain makes a drastic change from flat, farm fields to hills, quickly followed by mountains. Another 3 hr leg and we arrive in Thabazimbi, make a quick stop at the convenience store for ice that John Henry owns and head to the farm. I witness a local leaving the food store next door with a 3 foot loaf of sliced bread. Now that’s some sandwiches! As we leave Thabazimbi north into the Marakele National Park, we stop at a check point manned by Marakele Park staff. The guard tells us a rhino has been poached from the road this morning. Everyone is being checked going in and out. We read all the time about elephant and rhino poaching but this is the first I have personally witnessed the aftermath. There are park rangers and people dressed in forensic suits as they comb the scene for evidence. Things seem suspicious at best given the security in the area.



With no further fanfare, we arrive at the lodge. It’s 3 pm and we have a late spaghetti lunch with salad. I eat as if I haven’t been fed in days. It’s been a long day already and I’m completely drained at this point.

Our view from the front of the property

 

I take a few minutes to get re-acclimated to the Walther KKP 22 Hornet. On my last trip, I had a little issue adjusting to the double set trigger. Our timing is good as the plan is to head out at dusk to sit over the bait pile. Trailcam pics reveal bushpig, honey badger, genet, brown hyena and an occasional civet stopping by. All are on the menu- we have honey badger and civet permits already in hand.

The bait location is given away by smell long before sight. John Henry has been prebaiting for two weeks. As soon as we lose light, John Henry spots a genet at the bait with his handheld FLIR. Being our first night out and the drain of another exhausting road trip today, I’m not in my usual self. We hear bushpig 100 yds out but at the same moment a puff of wind hits the back of my neck. Truth be told, the wind hasn’t been great since the sun set. The bushpig never show, but finally the genet is back on the bait. John Henry uses a green light to illuminate the area. I can see the genet’s tail and what I believe to be the body. I take the shot with the .22 Hornet. What I thought was body was actually part of the bait. One dead impala skull!

We sit tight and 20 minutes later, he is back. This time he is perched on a pile of rocks guarding the mealie meal set out for the bushpigs. We next try the red light and when I pull the trigger, nothing but a click. In my daze, I forgot to reload after the first shot. We head back to the lodge for some needed rest. I’m practically delirious from the travel lag. We learn a few lessons and will adjust our procedures on subsequent night sits here.



We arrive to the lodge at 8:30 pm to a late dinner of roasted lamb, mixed veggies, potatoes and sweet potato fritters. Dessert- cheesecake.



I’m totally exhausted. I step up the sleeping aid regiment.

 

Day 7 Black (and White) Sunday

We are up at 6:30 this morning, some consolidation for the sleepless nights that have proceeded. I’m really feeling much better today. Activity picks up at the main lodge just after 7. I stroll over leaving the wife to apply her war makeup. We are at a new camp, and no one here has seen our hunting costumes yet. No need to worry about wearing something we have already wore After learning during our trip over yesterday that I was still seeking sable, John Henry advised he “had a place”. Our plan is to start there this morning. The blonde stays in this morning as she is feeling a little under the weather.

Breakfast: eggs, sausage and fruit

After a very short jaunt to the location, John Henry also gauges my interest for Roan. I have never thought about it. We’ll see how the trip goes. As we pull into the entrance, an elephant trumpets less than 500 yards behind us. Seems he is mildly perturbed at something, hopefully not us. There’s a stark difference between here and what we just left in the Kalahari. An opening larger than 80 yds wide is referred to as a “clearing”. It’s a thick, tangled mosaic of bush. As we push through we spot zebra, waterbuck and a giant giraffe bull, I mean a really big, black bull. Apparently, they aren’t that rare after all.



The animals aren’t as prone to make a mad dash for the hills as in the Kalahari either. The safety of the thick bush must be giving them a false sense of security. The whole scene is surrounded by the backdrop of the purple, rusty Waterberg Mountains. A haze in the air creates the illusion the whole mountain range is floating against the horizon. I can’t think of a prettier place I’ve ever hunted.



About an hour in, we spot a rather large animal in the road 500 yds up. He is sky lighted on the ridge. I immediately think sable when I see the swept back horns, John Henry says roan. Well, that didn’t take long to test my resolve. We slowly make our way toward him as he slips into the bush as if he was never there. We bump a small group of impala rams. We slow our progress even more as we are in the area the roan last occupied. Bingo, there he is quartering away at 60 yds slipping through the bush. John Henry confirms he is a mature bull. Funny how things can change on the fly as I decide maybe I should take the opportunity at hand. I decide to pull the trigger, but not so fast, we’ll need to secure the right permit first. The bull must have known he was safe for the moment as this was the closest we’d get to him over the course of the trip. The morning continued with a few random sightings but we never get a good look at anything else as the animals step from the road into the abyss, they disappear.

John Henry is noticing very fresh sable tracks and spoor in the new area. He comments we’ll need to spend more time here thoroughly searching this spot. The weather has warmed up enough that I remove my jacket but still crisp enough I keep my neck gaiter on. The focused effort pays off. John Henry spots him first, a shiny black lump through the brush. We immediately come to attention. A sable bull and by all looks of it, a very nice one at that. The bull is facing away but his long sweeping scimitar shaped horns are tilted in our direction. It’s plain to see he is a very mature animal. A closer look through the binos confirms he has compressed rings at his bases and his tips are blunted by age and wear. It’s doesn’t take much convincing me but I question John Henry if this is the caliber of bull we are looking for, hoping the answer will be yes. It is, thank goodness. The angle we have is not acceptable for a shot. The sable has positioned himself with the wind over his back and looking downwind. We are fortunate that from our position we have a cross wind. I’m not sure what type trees that we find ourselves amongst, but it’s the ones that drop leaves that sound like corn flakes when stepped on. We are able to move around 30 degrees keeping to his backside with the sun to our backs. Yes that’s better; I can now see more of his vitals. After a relatively short wait we get the shot and the retort of the CZ 300 Win Mag breaks the silence. The bull is hit hard but running to my left. He is twisting through the bush when I connect on a second shot. John Henry is surprised at the second shot and how quickly it came. My motto, “if it’s standing, keep shooting.” Not that it was needed, but the bull goes down on impact. That’s Africa- take what she gives, it doesn’t happen often.

As we approach, the beauty of this animal is breathtaking. The sun is glistening off its jet black coat and when I stroke its mane, there are pieces of green leaves embedded into the hair. The royalist of all African animals in my opinion, all decked out in his best tuxedo. This bull has spread his genes throughout the bushveld. We set up for pictures and do our best to pay him our respects. I will proudly show him off for decades to come and tell the story of this crisp African morning to all who will listen.





For those interested about such things- 43 ¾ x 43 with 9 5/8 bases. Matsetsi Sable are listed on average as 500-600 pounds. He appears every ounce of that. We load the bull and return to the lodge for lunch. We see a pair of park rangers patrolling the boundary with their crisp uniforms and bright, semi-auto rifles. We give them a nod of admiration and approval as we pass.

 

Awesome sable, congrats!!

 

A very good sable, congrats !

 

Wow, such an impressive and majestic animal. Congrats!!!

 

They are indeed a stunning animal. Yours is no exception!

 

Awesome looking sable! The cliffs in the background of the photo are awesome too. Really makes for a great photo.

 

I missed these pics from the stalk

 

We are back at the lodge for lunch American style- hamburgers and French fries. The wife is feeling better and joins us for the afternoon outing. We head back to the same area where we were successful earlier. I’m not sure we had completely made the rounds this morning before being interrupted by the crown jewel of all antelope. We’re in a whole different biosphere than earlier in the week, but game movement in the afternoons is slow here as it was earlier. We do spot a roan bull again briefly but several miles from where we were this morning. Other game- kudu, zebra, impala (still looking for a big one), more giraffe and a few warthogs.

During my 2015 trip, the flies and gnats nearly drove me insane. This time the flies aren’t as numerous but they are persistent. I have brought an insect repellent but its sting against my skin might be worse than that of the fly. The fine print on the bottle says to not apply to bare skin Luckily the discomfort of the repellent subsides long before the flies disappear. It’s worth the short term price versus the long term annoyance.

A fly trying trying get me through the camera lens as I focus on a giraffe.



I’m thankful for the fold up windshield on this bakkie. It serves us greatly in the down position while hunting but is a nice luxury in the up position for a ride back. None the less I pull my jacket tighter around my now bulging midsection after a week on South African hunting food. As we return, we observe an elephant bull on the Marakele Park boundary. Because we are sitting on the bait pile again tonight, we are back at the lodge by 5 pm to switch into our night gear.

 

Great sable!

 

My wife loves the Simba Chutney flavored chips!

Gorgeous Sable!

 

Subscribed. Wondered when we would get part two

 

It’s approaching darkness as we enter the pop up blind strategically placed over a dry creek bed, 35 yards from the bait. We are in the bone yard. It’s a known hangout for the local predator population. I can tell the wind for this location is better today as the stench of the bait fills my nostrils. We are definitely on the downwind side. Same as last night, the genet is the first to arrive. He darts in and out, back and forth. We decide to wait tonight and see what else might show. Last night, we heard the bushpigs but never saw them. Just at twilight I see a silhouette of a swine moving up the creek bed. Ah it is of the warthog variety unfortunately.

Around an hour after complete darkness, John Henry hears a slight clink in the bait area. Tonight the pigs show up without a sound until they are over the bait. They are rooting through the rock pile. He uses the FLIR to confirm there is a large one in the target zone. He slowly activates an overhead red light until I can make out the silhouette in the scope of the CZ 300 WM. Like the looking glass in Alice and Wonderland, the images are distorted as I try to make out the figures in the eerie glow of the red light. The sight picture is finally steady and thunder cracks through the night. Boar down. This was definitely high on my list after having an unexpected encounter with bushpig on my last safari. We have gotten lucky as it’s barely 7:30 pm.






After the pictures are taken, we still make dinner at a reasonable time. Menu: roasted impala stuffed with apricot, green beans, potato salad, homemade bread and sticky buns for dessert. This is one of the most unique entrées I have had in South Africa. I have been quite pleased with the South African culinary experience as my tighten belt can attest.

 

Day 8 The Big 5-0

The forecasted cold front blew in at 4 am this morning. The trees tops are swaying under the incoming furry. It’s a chilly 36 degrees F. Not your best Africa hunting conditions, but no need to whine about it. Only option is to bundle up and see what the day shall bring. It’s my 50th birthday although technically it’s still yesterday in the States, it won’t be for much longer. I make it to the lodge dining room a little early and get a small fire going. The chef for the week is the mother of a local PH that we met during our last trip. He appeared to have been well fed and so are we. I didn’t exactly catch her name, something like ( Pee KEY), but it must have been spelled C- R –A- Z- Y. She is crazy with a capital C, but the type you could trust your life with. She has more character and integrity in her little finger than most have. This camp cook is a handful - hand to mouth full. She’s also a crazy good cook. A real salt of the earth, can do anything, small package of dynamite! Seeing me squeeze closer to the small fire caused her to remanence about her childhood, when her family would huddle near a pot belly stove for warmth and cooking. I have similar memories of my childhood when visiting my grandparents. I do my best to have the fire going each morning thereafter, both for her and me. She goes on to advise that Cape Town is getting heavy snow today.

Breakfast: eggs, sausage links and fruit

This morning we are headed to Mamba. It’s a truly special place that rarely gets hunted. It is as wild as it gets in these parts. There is no lodge, no camp, no blinds, no feedstations and limited water except for one windmill trough and several miles of the Mamba River flowing through it. The roads don’t appear to have been driven on in months; the backsides of these mountains rarely see humans and the animals are as pure as the 1800s. I shot a 59+” kudu bull here last trip. I also saw several impala rams that would have been pushing 24-25”s. Yes I have been kicking myself for three years for not taking the opportunity but I wouldn’t make the same mistake if given the chance again. John Henry has gained special permission to hunt klipspringer this trip. The ranch manager hasn’t allowed it for decades. On my last hunt klipspringer was my nemesis. It’s the only animal I have ever wounded and not recovered in Africa. At another farm two mountains over, the shot came late in the day with sparse blood leading down into a steep valley. He was nowhere to be found the next morning. I honestly believe the shot was good but we lost him overnight to a large predator. Leopards, hyena and jackal are very prevalent in the area.

On our ride over, we see a hippo in a pool in the river. Only his eyes are poking above the water like a periscope on a submarine. Just as stealthy, he descends back to the safety of the depths. Now you see me, now you don’t.

We catch this kudu bedded as soon as we start hunting. Not a bad start already.



The cold morning has everything pinned down. We have somehow ended up on the dark side of the mountain and realize our chances would be better if we relocate to the sunshine the klipspringers are surely seeking this morning also. As we start to make a U-turn, John Henry spots a female on the rocks above us. We scan the area for 15 minutes without confirmation of her mate, but we know he must be close. We mark the spot for later consideration. Finally making our way to the sunlight, over the next 2 hours we locate several pairs of klipies. One pair has a decent ram, just not what we are in search of. The second group of three reveals no mature males.



By the lone water trough we spot a kudu bull. He isn’t particularly alarmed at our presence; therefore, we track him for several minutes to ensure he is not sick. We decide he looks healthy enough and leave him to pursue his cows. This bull has good, deep curls but is a little weak up top. John Henry estimates him at 50”s.

 

Totally different country from the Kalahari... That is a fantastic Sable. Congrats!
Bruce

 

There is also a small herd of sable bulls at the water, but none are over 30”s. As we circle back to the mountains that were on the dark side earlier, we are traveling through where I remember the big impala rams were 3 years ago. We see impala but the granddaddies are absent. For months I have been getting into shape to climb these mountains if need be. I put that training to use as we proceed over a rocky hill to look into the hidden valley behind. I blow a predator call to coax the small, rock jumpers from the nooks and crannies. No one shows but a troop of baboons. John Henry hears the huffing of what he believes is a nearby leopard. They are plentiful here but apparently the South African Department of Environmental Affairs can’t seem to put an acceptable plan together for permits (update, apparently 5 Limpopo permits will be issued for next year ). We never confirm the source of the noise, but a big, male baboon has decided to take up perch on top of a tree across the valley. Bad mistake. The range is 220 yds and he makes a very quick, straight to the base of the tree exit. These are renegade baboons that come over from the park nearby. They lose all their manners once they leave the friendly confines.

We climb back down which is, oddly enough, worse on my knees than going up. John Henry finds a nice shady spot and we build a small fire with dry wood laying around, grab a few rocks and proceed to grill up some lambchops and “braai bread” or as I have heard from others, “toasties”. The chops are seasoned with another local favorite, Carlos’ Braai Salt. As we are finishing up, the baboons are now above us on another ledge making quite a racket. They get a pass, for now.



I know you are tired of hearing the same ole story, but the afternoon is more than slow, it’s downright sedentary. To put things into perspective I’m not talking about the kind of slow back home when a buddy asks how it went and your report is “two armadillos and a woodpecker”. It’s the kind of African slow when you only spot 50 animals versus 250 an afternoon.

I locate the ancient camp site where pieces of pottery litter the ground. There are also pieces of black, iron ore scattered about which was smelted into primitive tools back then. John Henry believes the site is 400-600 years old. The iron ore continues to attract folks to the area.





We work our way back toward the waterhole and walk across a dry river bed. John Henry has seen a monster klipspringer ram here in the past. As soon as we climb out of the riverbed, as if on que, we spot two klipspringers up the hillside. The hill isn’t particularly tall but it is steep. We are disadvantaged by looking right into the setting sun. We never get a good look before the klipies scamper up the hill. As we turn to go back down John Henry motions he has seen a snake slide under a rock. I am giving that same rock a wide berth. John Henry wants to know if I want to see the snake. I think I’ll pass. I’m very pleased with such a mature decision on my part. Age 50 is looking good on me If we were back home in Texas I would have chased that snake from his lair, but I don’t trust the medical care here to be that careless. Just two weeks before my arrival, John Henry sent this pic of a black mamba.



We climb to the top of a small mountain to take in the view of Waterberg mountain range. There is an abandoned tent camp up here that doesn’t appear to have been used in a long time. A real shame. Maybe I’ll do a more primitive camp next time I come to Africa. As we discuss our situation, we come to the conclusion that we should explore more sheltered corners of the mountains. Although it has warmed up, the wind from the front is still very brisk. There is just one such place nearby and we haven’t been there yet. Its 4:30 with the mountain shadows growing longer by the minute.

 

That was Tannie Pikkie! She was the cook when I was there. My last day, she made me Swedish pancakes (my favorite breakfast). Her son that is a PH is Caipee and is one of John Henry's best friends.

 

Just as we make the turn toward the southwest side of the mountain, a klipspringer darts up from the base where the larger boulders have been deposited over the years. Then a second. They are one-third up the mountain now. After we reposition ourselves slightly, John Henry spots the ram. He has heavy horns above his ears, but he appears to be sitting in the top of a tree. He’s not really of course but his position up the mountain creates the illusion he is perched in the treetop. In reality what it means is that tree branches are blocking a good look. When the wind blows, the limbs obscure his shoulder, but when it dies there is a six inch opening in the right spot. The 22-250 Remington Sendero with fluted bull barrel is a tack driver. Again an angel and devil are fighting on each shoulder. Wait for a better shot, there is still plenty of time; No, you can make the shot when the wind lies. Fortunately, I don’t have to make the decision. We hear a squeaky call from our right. There is a female calling with two other klipspringer rams in tow. The motherlode of klipspringer are here, klipspringer nirvana. One of the new rams looks the same as the one behind the tree and it’s an easy decision to switch gears. The cross hairs are remarkably stable in this wind and the 120 yd shot hits true. The ram is down within 20 yds.

4 7/8 x 4 6/8




Klipspringer sign on the mountain



It’s getting dark as we get back to the lodge. Due to it being my birthday, we skip sitting on the bait pile for a special dinner. The women are back from a day in town as school is out here also; therefore, the two daughters were able to join the ladies for a special trip. My wife is surprised what a fuss is made by a local store clerk when she produced an American $20 bill. The clerk takes a picture of it as she says she has never seen one. I’m not sure of all the activities that occurred in town as apparently what happens in Thabazimbi, stays in Thabazimbi. She has kept her secrets hidden away deep in the clutches of the surrounding mountains. Whatever they did, it’s doubtful their day was better than ours.

Around the fire, I am serenaded with the South African birthday song, given a champagne toast and made to hold a “50” balloon. I wouldn’t have traded it for being anywhere else. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if my whole family could have been here with me. The T-bone steak I’m served covers the entire plate. Not that I could have finished it anyway, but I need to cut some off to make room for a few sides. There are plenty of guys out there that will find fault in that move The celebration is topped off with a chocolate coffee cake and a few rum and cokes. They have realized my proclivity for eating figs leading to a fig topping decoration. The youngest daughter explains the figs follow my life with the crushed peanuts being my ashes… in another 50 years. I’d probably settle for at least another 40.



The ladies play a South African game with something that resembles our dominos. I’m entertained by the crazy chef and John Henry’s two daughters. The eldest daughter is calculated and measured (I can see a doctor in the future) in her replies to the banter while the youngest, who is apparently Queen of this game, has a vein of rebellion running deep in her. Her angelic face with accompanying dimples is only disrupted by her devilish smile. There will surely be a string of local school boys broken hearts who will be drawn in by her ice blue eyes. Maybe there are a few already.

 

Nice Klipspringer!