SOUTH AFRICA: RSA Safari Report

[USMA84DAB]

PART 1

Safari with TJ Prinsloo of Somerby Safaris in the Republic of South Africa – Gauteng & Limpopo Provinces

14SEP21 – 30SEP21



Daniel A. Beach

CPT, Cavalry

US Army, Retired



All Rights Reserved

Copyright, 06OCT21

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The Prelude – A case could be made that this safari started in the fall of 1989. I decided to leave active duty and chase the dollar in the corporate world. (What a moron!) Being too much of a Soldier, my debut with Cameron Brooks netted one follow-up interview out of 14 job fiar interviews. Trying to hedge my bets with this miserable interview fair outcome, I contacted Art Alphin at A-Square and asked to interview for a position. Art had been my “Art” (History of the Military Art) instructor at West Point, as well as my instructor for the History of Military Technology. I received a generous offer from Art, but accepted the other offer from a trucking company, as it held better proximity for the Lovely Spousal Unit to further her post-grad education at a Big 8 university. Hindsight, of course, blatantly indicates that I should have taken up Art on his offer. Nonethless, I was bitten by the idea of going to Africa and pursuing many animals. I eventually did work for A-Square, circa 1996. I ran the ammo production line for Art. Naturally, this served to aggravate the Africa bug. However, after my paycheck bounced for the third time in 9 months, I sought better income stability.



The Funding – In 2016 the VA declared a miraculous healing of my shoulders, among several other wrecked portions of my body. Therefore, they relieved me of 45% of my disability income. I did not agree with the idea that I was healed, and so fought the decision. Over the course of 18 months, numerous poke/prod/exam sessions occurred, and the VA continued to tell me I was healed. I continued to tell them they were full of shit. The huge packet of records disappeared into the labyrinth of the VA appeals process and I moved on with my life.



In the fall of 2017 my wife came to me and asked me why we had a $28,000 deposit from the government in our checking account. I opined that they had made one butt-load of a clerical error and warned her not to spend a cent, as they would surely come back for it.



Upon getting ahold of DFAS (Defense Finance & Accounting Services), I learned that it was an actual payment to me that was proper/genuine. However, since the notification letter from the VA explaining the payment was sent to my old address, I had not received the notice. The VA did not have record of my new street address, so their explanatory letter was returned from the local post office. DFAS could not disclose the nature of the payment due to their SOPs. On to the VA…



After contacting the VA and following the yellow brick road, we arrived at the point where a clerk was able to e-mail me a copy of the notification letter. Apparently, God smote the final reviewing bureaucrat at the VA on the head and he/she reversed all of the previous decisions about my miraculous healing case. My 100% disabled rating was restored, and it was declared to be permanent. The $28,000 was my return of the disability pay over 18 months that was now due to me because of the decision in my favor. Some of the money went to house upkeep/upgrade. Some was set aside for a safari.





The Plan – At the 2018 KC SCI show I sat down with Drom from Somerby Safaris. My buddy Robert, who was an active member in the SCI KC club, tagged along to oversee things. I signed up for a safari in 2019. The game to be pursued was set as: impala, zebra, kudu, oryx, and blue wildebeest. Robert and his wife decided to tag along for moral support, my wife grudgingly went along, and then her sister grabbed onto the straps as well.



The Plan Changes – 2019 was a tough year for Beachheim. The septic pump broke. The car broke – twice. I had to get major dental work twice due to heavy metal poisoning suffered on deployment. We contacted Drom and asked to push the safari back from May, 2019, to, you guessed it – May, 2020. By the time we actually got on the plane, we had postponed/rescheduled the safari five times. We left from KCI on 14SEP21. The first leg was 3 hours to Newark, then 15 to Johannesburg after a 4 hour layover in NJ so the rifles and luggage would be assured of making the connection.



The Gear



Ruger Alaskan in .375 Ruger - This is the stainless model with a 20” barrel (No &%#@$ muzzle brake) and Hogue overmolded stock. It sported a VX5-HD 1-5x20 with firedot reticle and Custom Dial System-Zero Lock elevation turret. I scored this scope as “mounted once, not fired”, from a member on AfricaHunting.com for $100 off of the new price. I carried the rifle with a Viking Tactics padded sling worn over the torso. I ran part of a boot lace through the rear sling swivel stud. 550 cord was too thick to go through the stud. I tied a knot on each side of the stud so the lace could not slide through/rotate. At the top I tied off a loop to hook the sling into, and then square knotted the string ends ¼” from the comb. This may have looked like a hillbilly yard sale, but it held the rifle upright and made for very fast shouldering of the rifle. The Boyt Harness rifle case did a superb job of protecting it as it never lost zero, in spite of an E-Ticket ride it was given.



Savage 110 Tactical – The back-up was a .308WIN. It also sports a 20” barrel, and employs AICS pattern single stack magazines. The glass was the Primary Arms 3-18x50 ACSS lit reticle silver model. Really a designated marksman tool, my buddy Robert seemed quite capable of using it to take blesbok, warthog, baboon, jackal, and porcupine. This saved him from lugging his own rifle over. I was also not on the opposite side of the planet without the ability to effectively defend myself from the next communist uprising. (See July, 2021.) This rifle rode in a Pelican 1730 case which, likewise, protected it from losing zero.



Nanuk 930 hard case – Not wanting my zippers to be popped open with a pen by the thieves, I opted for the “starlight scope” case hard luggage. It worked great.



Eberlestock Halftrack – This worked superbly! It is 2” too tall for the carry-on dimensions, so I basically left the top pocket empty for the plane rides. No one ever seemed to worry about it’s size in the least, however. I used it for the “lug stuff to the bakkie” bag each day. I never noticed it during the airport baggage schlep sessions. The coyote brown color drew no notice from anyone. I packed a second set of clothes in this bag and wore the first set of hunting attire.

TJ’s Bakkie

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Maxpedition Mongo Versipack – This worked superbly as my Murse/personal item for taking on the plane. Epi pens, snacks, essential oils, coffee creamer, spoon, sweetener packets, Kindle, 5 days of vitamins – it swallowed it all.



Steiner 8x30 binos – These were adorned with a 550 cord woven sling that permitted torso carry with the glass resting high on my right cheek at the belt line. When I got to use them, they did a great job and matched my military habits of not fiddling with the focus wheel and wasting time.



LAPG Operator pants – Two pair of OD pants worked superbly, shrugging thorns off well during stalks.



Wiggy Boots – I took two pair of the brown combat boots that Wiggy’s had to quit selling. Gore put the screws to his bootmaker. If they didn’t cease making Wiggy’s boots without gore-tex, they would stop supplying them with gore-tex for all of their other manufacturing. So, I snagged 3 pair and am blissfully pleased with the wicking the lamilite lining does, as opposed to the plastic sack sweatbox effect from gore-tex that insures I will always have cold, wet feet in spite of merino wool socks. The Vibram sole was a bit noisier than the PH’s Courtney’s. The Wiggy’s were less than ½ the cost of the Courtney’s though, so I dealt with the extra sand/rock crunching.



REI Zip-off pants – I did not hunt in these as I feared for their life with the thorns in the bush. However, they were great as my camp and around town pants/shorts. They are very light weight.



REI Hat – This worked superbly – lightweight, great eye shade to see game, ventilated, foldable. Not near as sexy as a cavalry Stetson, but got the job done of protecting my bald head perfectly.



Dri-Duke wicking T-shirts – These worked great to wick perspiration. When we traveled on the economy I wore a Cabela’s shirt over them with a neck knife in between. The dark color helped to not “glow” during stalks.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 2


Layer Shirts – I had a Cabela’s button shirt and one from REI. I wore these as over-layers for sun shielding, or insulation in the mornings/evenings when it got cool. They worked great.



Wool Vest – Cabela’s did a knock off of Filson wool garments about a decade ago, when they were focused on hunting (as opposed to the Bass Pro ownership now changing them into a fishing store). The camo patterned wool vest was just enough extra warmth without the weight of the sleeves. It packed down pretty well into my carry-on bag.



Darn Tough Socks – Over the calf merino tactical socks worked great.



Kindle – provided some relief (with the headlamp from my murse due to no reading lights on the plane) from the tedium of the never-ending flight to RSA. I re-read van der Walt’s African Dangerous Game Cartridges, but the charts are microscopic, so one loses ½ of the value of his work.



Ammo Carry – I used a Boyt Harness cartridge rack. This 5-round belt slide and a box with snap lid I made 20 years ago for toting .495 A-Square cartridges, worked great. The box holds eight .375 Ruger rounds with a piece of USGI sleeping pad foam on top to preclude rattling. I also carried one box of 20 rounds in the Eberlestock ruck.





The Safari – Fly day was 14SEP21. TSA in Kansas City tried to exercise their petty tyrant card at their molestation point. The x-ray screener took issue with my back-up rifle scope (a Trijicon 1-6x24 with green tritium dot circle reticle in an Aero Precision mount) in my carry-on bag. She called in the shift captain, who sided with her. I then produced the e-mail response from the TSA website stating that scopes can be carried in carry-on baggage, told them that I had called the 800 line and got the same answer. Meanwhile, behind these two petty tyrants, another TSA lady was busily looking up the issue on her cell phone. She showed her boss that the website has a green check mark beside carry-on transportation of the optic, so they finally relented. The Trijicon 1-6x24 went on the plane in my carry-on. I was polite/professional during the entire disagreement, so they had no excuse to play the BFYTW card on me. I thanked the young lady that supported me with her cell phone look-up a little while later.



We flew United. The puddle jumper from KC to Newark was OK. No issues. The 787 from Newark to J-burg was an hour late departing due to United’s failure to get it ready on time. The electronics in the cabin were all dead – no attendant call button, no reading light, no flight tracking. The movies played, but three requests to the flight crew for earphones were ignored and never answered. One stewardess in particular was incapable of walking down the 12” wide aisle without slamming her ass into each and every person sitting in the aisle seats. I finally switched seats with my wife to sit by the window so I wouldn’t come unglued after being smacked in the shoulder for the 39th time. The flight crew left the lights turned out until 1 hour out from J-burg.



My assessment is that this was done in order to not have to serve passengers anything, and to control us/keep us in our seats. A stewardess literally smacked a man in the shoulder to wake him up and ordered him to pull his mask up over his nose. I don’t know if he had pulled it down, or it slipped down while he slept. One of the two times I got up to take a leak, I was ordered back into my seat by some pencil-necked faux boy tyrant due to the seat belt sign being lit. It was lit 95% of the flight as the turbulence over the Atlantic was constant and pronounced. At some point, though, the bladder capacity warning light can no longer be ignored. I waited another 5 minutes and sprang from my seat before faux boy could say anything else.



As I exited the aircraft in J-burg, I watched a stewardess shoveling soft drink cans into a duffel bag she brought to take them home with her. Perhaps this was a contributing factor to why were we offered virtually nothing but half-sized bottles of water? In short, the flight crew took up overhead bins with their luggage and terrorized the passengers with their Dachau SS guard attitude and orders. Outside of a life or death situation, I will not be using United ever again.



Rifle Permits, Inc. met me at the gate and the securing of my cases was perfectly painless. The elder couple that runs this service did a perfect job and I feel like the $140 for feeding the bureaucracy was worth the lack of stress and potential errors I might have made. My Nanuk bag/box was sent to the “Oversized” luggage area, slowing us down a bit on collecting our bags. I made sure to let Robert know that my “oversized” reputation had preceded me, so we had a chuckle.



The first wake-up to South Africa occurred in the parking garage. While TJ and Natalie were herding us to the van and bakkie in the garage, a large local passed us for reconnaissance, and then a few moments later his smaller accomplice attempted to approach us with a baggage cart to “help” us with our luggage, which was already loaded onto baggage carts. TJ went junk yard dog on the smaller one, and I was a hair’s breadth from stepping in front of his larger partner who had circled around and come up on the other side of the group. Not speaking Afrikaans, I don’t have the word for word replay, but TJ let the shyster know that he had strayed into our space and he needed to back off IMMEDIATELY!



Becky and I rode with TJ in the bakkie to Sherewood Lodge. This is a small compound hotel and grill. A 5’ stone wall with hot wire fencing lining the top surrounds the enclosure. Very well-manicured foliage on the grounds and surprisingly quiet for being inside of Pretoria. Rooms were very nice. However, South Africans cannot decide where to place their light switches! Food supervised by Ozzy was great. He struggled with my horribly restricted dietary needs, but I never went hungry. As I understand it, Drom has purchased ½ ownership of the hotel to vertically integrate his operation. Smart move.



The 16th brought breakfast at Sherewood Lodge, and we were off to Nico’s property. As I understood it, this “parcel” of land was “just” 16,000 acres. The rifles fired OK at the range, but we both tweaked them a bit. TJ had us fire from the back of the bakkie, which was not something I had trained for. I had practiced seated, kneeling, using the seat to my shooting bench as a rest, off the sticks, unsupported standing – but not off the support shelf in a bakkie. It took a bit to figure out the best way to use this, but I got it shortly. One of TJ’s Clients this year had opened his case at the zero range with, “ I hope it is still zeroed. I haven’t fired it in about 18 months.” TJ breathed a sigh of relief with our zero-confirmation performance. I had been sending reports to the office of my range practice sessions, but I am sure for him, seeing was believing.



Since Robert had been twice before to Africa, I was the primary candidate to be the first shooter. We went out looking for a zebra first. Just driving around looking, I saw more animals in the first ½ day of hunting, than I have seen in two decades of deer hunting in MO. We arrived at Nico’s to a 200-yard long parade of cape buffalo. The first day brought: eland, blesbok, impala, sable, waterbuck, blue wildebeest, giraffe, warthog, baboons, jackal, and kudu. The number of animals was simply stunning.



Eventually, we came upon a zebra herd. They scurried away, down through a creek bed and onto a plain on the far side. TJ said to dismount and off we went. After about 50 yards, he threw the sticks up, and to his utter surprise, I was on them in a flash. Apparently, most Americans are 25 yards behind the PH with their binos stuck to their face, trying to figure out what he was looking at vs. getting the rifle on the sticks. I had actually practiced moving up onto the sticks on my range sessions, and it paid off. I picked up the matriarch mare and her foal at the far left of the string of the animals. TJ coached me from the side to look for the stallion bringing up the rear of the herd to the far right of the group. I panned down the brush line of the creek and picked him up as he climbed up onto the plain. When he stopped at about 110 yards, I settled the red dot onto his chest and squeezed. The 270 Barnes TSX passed right through the centerline of his chest and down he went. I racked the bolt and got immediately back onto him. Good thing, because, up he came. Having read Boddington and Woods profusely to learn all I could before the trip, I had the schooling that it would be a bad thing to NOT put a 2nd round into a zebra. Tracking a wounded zebra could eat up a day or two of your safari. When the dot settled on the chevron of his left shoulder, I sent the second round. I broke both shoulders with this pass-through round.



Meanwhile, TJ uttered an unprintable exclamation. He had begun moving up to collect the sticks and go downrange to retrieve the zebra. I don’t think he had ever had an American Client with the skills and presence of mind to fire a follow-up shot. He did not have his fingers in his ears for the 2nd round. He initially thought that I had had a negligent discharge. When I explained why I had fired a 2nd round, he really had nothing further to say. If I had post-safari 20/20 hindsight going in, I should have “rehearsed” with him the engagement and that I had trained to fire a 2nd round.



When we got to the stallion, he was still trying to get up, so at 2 yards I fired a finishing shot into his chest along the keel. 3 rounds of .375 – one tough pony! The round stopped under the skin of the left shoulder, minus two petals. Being the ignorant 1st safari guy, I was just pleased that I had put the rounds in the correct place, and that I had run the gun without hesitation. TJ and Nico had to tell me he was a huge stallion. Beautiful mane, great stripes, scars from fighting. First blood drawn in Africa, so stripes went onto my cheeks.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 3


BTW – the norm was Nico AND his property manager rode in the cab of the bakkie, Robert and I in the seat, TJ standing in the bed behind us. Three sets of calibrated eyeballs searching for game, and every so often Robert or I would spot something. These guys were working hard to find our animals and get us on them!



The return to the camp was followed by firepit time, some adult beverages. Leonard, the one-man band caretaker, made us chef-level chow. That guy just breathes “I want to serve you.”

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17SEP21 – We began the quest for the kudu as it was the most elusive animal on my list. The zebra had permitted TJ to assess where I was at in terms of skill level and how he would have to guide me. I passed the assessment OK. We drove around looking for the kudu, only seeing numerous cows and calves, and occasionally a teenag,e or just off the teat male. TJ spotted a very good blesbok which was on Robert’s list. He made a great running shot on the old fighter to anchor him.

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After the pictures for Robert, we continued the search for the kudu bull. TJ and I dismounted to drive through a thick area in hopes of kicking bulls out of their hiding spots. I had to unlearn my 5-meter interval programming from patrolling. TJ stopped and told me to stay up on his ass so that when he put up the sticks, I could get immediately on them. My two brain cells rubbed together hard and a light bulb went on. The PH-hunter team is similar (at least in my feeble Soldier mind) to an Army sniper team. The lesser experienced one is the shooter. The spotter/PH evaluates the target, feeds info to the shooter to get him on the target so that he can successfully engage. My focus was to be getting the bullet into the right spot before the opportunity disappeared. I was NOT to be dally-whacking 25 yards behind the PH with my binos, trying to see what he had spotted. I needed to trust that when he threw the sticks up, there was going to be a target that required and merited my attention. This realization enabled me to be a much better hunter under TJ’s guidance. I understood 1,000% what my focus should be and the tasks required of me.



I almost feel like I should have left my binos at home. I used them from that point on for sight-seeing at the lodge watering hole, or very occasionally from the back of the bakkie. On the next trip, to pursue a buffalo, there may be the chance to examine the herd with TJ as we sort out which bull to pursue. In general, however, I took the step learned from reading PH comments on AfricaHunting.com and decided to trust what my PH was telling me. This would eventually literally save my life later in the safari.



Meanwhile, the bakkie with Nico, his manager, and Robert moved to our pick-up point. On the way, they spotted a very nice, mature impala ram. Robert decided to pass on it as he already had an impala and this was my first trip. When TJ & I got to the truck, we headed back to see if we could find the ram again. As the truck neared the herd, they casually strolled into a huge brush island. Nico took the truck off to the right side of the island. By the time we had circled to about 2 O’clock on the island of brush and bushes, the herd started to amble out of the island towards 10 O’clock. It was easy to spot the ram. I waited until he walked out of the brush into the open to fire. The round entered behind his right shoulder and exited about 2” down his left neck, dropping him in place. I had told TJ that I wanted strongly representative animals. I was not going to hunt with a tape measure and did not want to waste days seeking world record trophies. So far, we were perfectly nailing the quality of trophy aspect of the hunt.

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Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the ladies had run off to go 4 wheeling for the day with Natalie, their guide/PH. From the after-action comments, they had an absolute ball.



We continued to search for the kudu bull, but were only finding adolescents that were perhaps ½ to ¾ grown. After lunch, we switched areas. The adjoining property manager, Jock, rode in the rear with TJ. His ranch was a bit more SW US desert-like with less trees and more brush. It also contained a generous sprinkling of termite mounds. I described the terrain as if when God finished creating the world, He had a significant quantity of rocks left over. He must have taken a pinch in between His thumb and finger and sprinkled them liberally over South Africa! There were softball to kickball-sized rocks THICK, everywhere.



The winding, switchback bakkie trails climbed up and down the terrain. We passed the ranch’s cape buffalo breeding herd that would not move until we were 10 yards from them. Intermingled with the buffalo were the sable, the star stud sporting rubber tubing on his horn tips to protect them from damage, as well as the other males from the same.



After driving for several hours about the ranch, we were climbing a grade along a boundary fence road when we saw an animal 1,000 yards away also using the road. TJ opined that a cow would not use the road, only a bull. His binos confirmed it was indeed an oryx bull, and one worthy of stalking. We continued our steady pace driving 5 MPH to about 300 yards before he heard the tires on the gravel and whirled to confront us. After a few moments of standoff, he decided to seek concealment in the brush. We drove up to where he left the road and TJ & I dismounted. We stalked slightly downhill 50 yards through the brush. TJ put the sticks up. Now, TJ is a bit taller of a lad than I am – being perhaps 6’2” and my tree trunk physique tops out at 5’10”. I had to quickly whisper “LOWER”, as I couldn’t get on the rifle initially. We got that sorted, and I watched the bull move from left to right, crossing a small opening. I ALMOST squeezed off the round, but was afraid of flubbing the shot as he didn’t stop. If I had it to do again, I would have taken the shot. I was lucky that he gave me another chance.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 4


We played the game again. TJ spotted him, plotted his direction of travel, and set the sticks up for me at another opening in the brush, about 70 yards off. This time the old warrior obliged me by stopping to examine who was pestering him. I settled the red dot on his chest 1/3 of the way up and gently squeezed. I was greeted with the loudest sound on the battlefield – CLICK! I had a dud round! Fortunately, I had practiced running the gun prior to coming to SA, so in a flash, I racked the bolt, sending the recalcitrant round spinning away, and resettled the dot. This time the squeeze sent a 270 grain Barnes on it’s way before the oryx had moved a muscle. He took the bullet and bolted downhill. I reloaded again, but not quickly enough to get a second round in him. It didn’t matter this time. My shot placement was perfectly through the heart and lungs. We found him about 100 yards away with the bullet under the skin of his left shoulder. While we found zero blood and TJ tracked him by only his hoofprints, the ribs on the floor of the bakkie bed were filled with blood by the time we got him to the skinning shed that night.

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Being the neophyte hunter, TJ had to instruct me on the oryx’ trophy qualities. His bases were very large and thick, with secondary ridges indicating marked age. The stocky horns were very thick with well-defined ridges. His teeth were worn even with the palate, also showing he had just about had his run of the course. He was extremely well fed – almost pudgy, so it seems I caught him prior to the old age, downhill slide. If you expand/blow up the photo, the inside of his right horn by my rifle shows the shredded fiber of the horn sticking out from a recent fight.



Now some work began. The boulder and termite mound field was too thick to permit bringing the bakkie the 200 yards downhill from the road. TJ produced his rubberized canvas litter with seatbelt webbing straps and we rolled my wonderful oryx onto it. Five of us (Me, TJ, Nico, Jock, and Nico’s property manager) grabbed onto the litter. Robert had to sit this one out. He is still undergoing physical therapy for a back surgery back home, so this was beyond his current capacity. We then sweat, stumbled, wheezed, and cussed as we clawed up the slight incline, trying to not break any ankles on the softball to rugby ball sized rocks, and attempting to dodge the termite mounds. We took it in three or four sessions. I was very glad we had 40% humidity vs. the normal 80-90% here in Missouri! However, the altitude of 4-5,000 feet told on this old guy, who is used to 900 feet of elevation in Missouri! I was thankful that Nico’s property manager had stayed along for the hunt in spite of being on Jock’s ranch. Just one more example of the intense effort TJ, and Nico were exerting to try and get us the animals on our list. I really think he just wanted to watch the newbie on his first safari get his animals to share in the excitement.



With 60% of my animals now in the salt (zebra, impala, oryx down – kudu and blue wildebeest still roaming), we went back to seeking the kudu bull as we had 2 more hours of daylight. While TJ and I stalked the oryx bull, the bakkie had moved to try and pick us up. They had spotted a group of mature kudu bulls across a fenceline on another portion of Jock’s ranch. Off we went to find them. After searching some 20 minutes in the adjacent area, we rounded a corner to find a mature bull tucked under a tree. He faced 4 O’clock towards us, right shoulder exposed, 50 yards from the truck. TJ said to get the rifle off the rack, and I waited for his next instructions. The bull looked rather puny from the light and angle I had to see him. Meanwhile, TJ was having kittens, as he had whispered for me to fire, but my tanker ears had not heard him. Finally, I asked, “Do you want me to shoot?”

“YES – QUICKLY!” (“YOU EFFING MORON!”, is what I am sure he was thinking.)

I thought, “man, he looks kinda stubby, but TJ said to shoot, so here goes”.



The round transited the kudu’s boiler room. I felt no recoil, ran the bolt and prepared to send another round. I asked TJ if I should shoot again (not wanting to blow out his ears). TJ replied “No, he is already staggering and going down.” He staggered only 30 yards before he did go horizontal.



This old bull was headed downhill in his health. His hips were emaciated from spending time with the ladies this season. His teeth were worn to the palette as well. His coat was shedding winter hair. He had grown a very prominent ridge on the curl of his horns. The last 1/2” of his horns were ivory colored. Several days later, we stopped by the skinning shed and quickly put a tape to the horns to satisfy my curiosity. He was a strong 52”. As it turned out, it was very fortunate I suffered this curiosity pang. A very wonderful specimen!



Odd how the bush serves up animals in a manner and/or location one doesn’t expect. As the 2nd full day of my hunt closed, I had 80% of my animal list taken care of. 60% of the safari animals were harvested in one day of hunting! The most elusive, the grey ghost was in the salt.

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18SEP21

The next morning Robert elected to sleep in. My Lovely Spousal Unit left with Natalie for the horse riding overnight trip that she had scheduled. TJ, Nico (driving), and I headed out at first light. This was the first day it was cool enough to wear the long-sleeved shirt layer, as well as the wool vest. After searching for about 20 minutes, we spooked a very nice red hartebeest that ran away from the road and stopped. TJ asked me if I wanted to pursue him, as he was a gold medal level animal. I have just never been able to get excited about hartebeest, but thought through TJ being excited about it meaning it was exceptional. I eventually said we should try for him. When the truck stopped for us to dismount, he ran farther off. When we began to stalk him on foot he lit out for the next county. This hartebeest had learned what the bakkie meant and was having none of it! We re-mounted the bakkie and I was actually relieved we had blown the chance when TJ told me the trophy fee was $1,200.



About a quarter mile down the road we ran into a nursery herd of wildebeest. Neat to see the 50 or so animals, but no mature males there, so we drove on. About another ¼ mile down the road we stumbled upon the bachelor herd. TJ and Nico both lit up. There was a bull both of them had tried to get Clients onto repeatedly, and he had always given them the slip. Nico had hunted the old man himself and the gnu had bested him several times. He stood at the far-right side of the herd, facing 3:30, about 70 yards away. I put the dot on him and squeezed – CLICK! I had failed to chamber a round coming out of the camp! (Each time we got back to camp TJ had us press the cartridges in the magazine down and run the bolt over them, so empty chamber, full magazine.) I instantly ran the bolt, settled the dot and fired again. Perfect hit. The hand grenade of wildebeest was a superb example of chaos. We all three dismounted for the follow-up. TJ led, I stayed right on his 6, and Nico re-tracked to back up TJ about 50 yards behind us. We found their standing position where I hit the bull. No blood was to be found anywhere. I was confident of my shot, and more importantly, my prior shooting had convinced Nico and TJ that I was competent. The tracking began.



TJ worked the hoofprints, detecting when the bull veered out of the herd in a loop to the right, then back into the herd. A bit further on he stumbled out of the herd to the left, and then rejoined again. Suddenly, TJ lost his tracks. Nico had concurred that TJ stayed on the correct set of tracks. Still, not a drop of blood. They huddled up in the bush, running through Afrikaans like machineguns, while I stood beside them like a third arm. As I surveyed the bush around us to our left, 15 yards away laid the wildebeest. “There he is!” Their heads snapped around and we all laughed so hard we nearly cried. Here, the smoke was rolling out of their heads from the exertion of intensely tracking this old bull, and the rookie looks to the side and finds him!



The bull had pulled a tight button hook and apparently, as he collapsed, coughed hard. We finally found lung tissue 3’ from where he finally fell. He traveled 200 yards before he succumbed to the shot. I am sure that in another moment or two TJ and Nico would have back-tracked and found the button hook, and then the bull. The way it unfolded was priceless though.



This old-timer had very pronounced bosses, a deep black face, very nice brindling, a great mane – just a superb specimen. TJ & Nico were both tickled pink that they had been able to put me onto him and finally someone had bested him. I finally had the presence of mind to shoot a version of the trophy photo with TJ, feeling like a moron for not having thought of this on my previous animals.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 5


In three days of hunting I had harvested all five of my contracted animals. Now what? That afternoon Nico put the four of us in his tourist bakkie, and we drove around taking pictures of animals. Not the kind of shooting I liked, but it was OK.



While searching we found a male warthog that Nico had tried to put down since March of this year. A previous hunter had shot him with a 168 Barnes .308WIN from 600 yards. The bullet was still in the hog’s shoulder, preventing him from feeding adequately. Since a human caused the problem, Nico wanted a human to stop his suffering. We spotted him limping into brush. Nico drove the truck around to the opposite side and TJ and I dismounted. As we pushed through the thorns, the pig tried to squirt back up a creek he had scurried through. He was running away from right to left at about a 75 degree angle. I picked him up in the scope, but waited until he ran across a break in the brush, and then fired. I screwed up and forgot to put the red dot out in front of him. Having the dot on his chest, the round entered his left rear hip and exited through his right chest and he dropped about 50 yards from me. I don’t count him as a trophy, as I was just happy to end his suffering. His hips looked like he had had a stay at Bergen-Belsen.

​

That afternoon, TJ took me out on a stalk. Nico’s orders were that if anything we saw ate meat, it was to die. Calving season was just around the corner and he didn’t want any jackal or genet taking newborns. TJ and I still hunted through the bush for over a mile. About ½ way through I had to stop and stretch the L4/L5 back issue as my left leg was shutting down. Only time it really bothered me on the entire trip. I whispered to TJ “Boy, I really wish I had another 4” of barrel for my H&H to snag on thorns, brush and rocks. I could use some more weight to carry!” We both chuckled. He had begun referring to my Alaskan as “Stubby”, but he could see it slew animals, so he respected the carbine.



Eventually, the still hunting took us to Nico’s 3 mile x 2 mile plain. Herds of wildebeest, impala, and blesbok flowed across this open area. As we approached through the trees and therefore, in deep shadow, first a wildebeest herd, and then impala, saw our shapes. They watched intently, but were far enough away to not spook. We were able to move to about 20 yards from the grass’ beginning. TJ found a single blesbok ram, indicating he was over the hill and had been forced out of the herd. We tried a tree branch to fire from, but it was masked by a dead branch hanging in front of me. TJ set the sticks up 5 yards to the left. If we moved any closer the impala and wildebeest herds would break and we would need to start all over. TJ lased the blesbok – 253 yards. I ran the turret on the scope to 250 and tried very hard to settle the oscillation of the dot on the blesbok’s chest. He was facing us at about a 4:30 or 5 O’clock angle. I squeezed gently and the shot broke. The blesbok dropped in his tracks, the bullet taking a path just inside the right shoulder and exiting behind the left shoulder.

​

Not the world record by any means, but an animal I am proud to bring home! I never imagined I would take a 253-yard shot with a .375 Ruger. The Leupold custom dial system works.

​

Another view of the blesbok coupled with the sunset.



Back to the skinning shed. At camp, TJ told me that Drom had offered me a VERY good price to pursue a buffalo. It was nearing the end of the season, I had a legal rifle to shoot with, I was already there in RSA, we had seen awesome buffalo on Nico’s ranch – it was a very attractive offer. The amount of money was still enough that I felt I better consult House Hold 6 before taking it. She was out of camp on her overnight stay at the horse ranch. So, I called Natalie with TJ’s cell and Natalie got HouseHold6 on the phone. It turns out, she was going to say yes, but I could hear in her voice – she would spend the rest of the time in Africa stewing about how we would pay for the buffalo. This would ruin her trip. I passed on the buff and took the consolation prize. For ¼ the cost, TJ & I would pursue a bigger animal in the morning – a giraffe bull.



19SEP21

The next morning, TJ and I set out to find this hoodlum bull that Nico wanted removed. He had made it a weekly habit to walk through the ranch’s fences to find bulls on the adjacent properties to fight with. The cows in the herd all had calves, and they were all expecting again. Nico said that if we could get this bull, he wouldn’t be missed. We found him in a corner of the property we had not hunted in yet. TJ and I dismounted and “walked” toward the herd – one does not stalk an animal that has his eyes 20’ off the ground. By the time we hit the 100 yard mark, he was about done with our irritating movement towards him.



His coat was very nicely dark on the top half, and very light on the bottom half. Generally, mature bulls are dark everywhere, but not this guy. I split the joining of his neck to the body, and the “adam’s apple” of his shoulder bump, then went 15” to the right, as he was facing 9 o’clock. I squeezed (with a round in the chamber this time!) and the shot broke. I ran the bolt and prepared to fire again. My reading research had taught me to not let the adrenaline kick in, or we would chase this giraffe for 4 counties and 8-10 more rounds. He started to run. I fired again, striking his left shoulder. Before I could run the bolt again he had already moved 50 yards and his head dropped, the four hooves went over the top, and his complete somersault placed him squarely on a bakkie road.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 6


While I was in recoil from the first shot, TJ had seen him lunge his head and neck forward, indicative of a heart shot. TJ knew he was dead on the hoof, but I didn’t. Hence, the second round. I caught TJ off guard again. We found the first bullet on the far side of the heart. One of the two missing petals was about 1” back behind the bullet, still in the heart. The 2nd round in the shoulder never made it to bone or the chest cavity. We found it when skinning him in the shed. I administered a finishing round through the chest from 2 yards and that was found under the skin of his left shoulder.

​

This guy’s mane was torn up, and he had a fresh wound healing on his neck from fighting. 3,000 pounds of trophy. Who needs a puny 1,500 pound buffalo?! For scale, I am 5’10”, 225 lbs.

The cartridge and rifle vs. the fighter.







The reason no bullet passed through.​

As we began the field recovery of the giraffe, Nico related the story of a Client 6 weeks prior. He had hit his giraffe bull with a .458 Lott, but not in the vitals. It took 7 additional rounds to put that animal down for keeps. Eight total rounds of .458 Lott is a lot of love to send downrange! Another testimony to the need to put the bullet in the right place.



After getting the giraffe to the skinning shed and breaking for lunch, we began looking for Robert’s warthog. Warthogs we found – lots of sows with piglets. TJ sat with me, Robert, and his wife in a hasty blind placed overlooking a water hole. This pond had a tusker using it. We watched 5 inferior wart hogs come in for water and a roll in the mud. After about 2 hours, the tusker did show up. Robert perfectly placed a 168gr Barnes TTSX through his chest. The shot startled him, but it was if he had no nervous system. He trotted forward about 10 yards and stood there trying to figure out what that “bang” was. Robert put another one through his chest. This time he ran about 20 yards. After a few seconds more, he seemed to decide he needed to depart for quieter parts and began trotting off. Robert put one in his left hip and it came out his right shoulder. The third round dropped him. Both the first and second shot had rendered him a dead pig walking. We have no idea why he didn’t know it. Due to the incident later in the trip, we did not get TJ’s pictures yet. Therefore, I don’t have a pic of Robert’s tusker pig to put in here.



Because Robert’s wife is favoring a knee, TJ left the three of us with the pig while he went the 300 yards to retrieve the bakkie. He cautioned me to watch for buffalo, as it was afternoon and they could come in for water at the pond. However, he warned me that I couldn’t throw myself in front of them to instigate a charge or claim self-defense!



20SEP21

We went to a neighboring game ranch to try and get Robert a baboon. They ranch springbok, blesbok, and several other critters. Eduard, the ranch manager, placed us in a corral that was completely walled in to reduce the stress on the animals when they are herded in there. We propped up a log to create a firing port for Robert at standing height. Eduard drove down the fenceline a ways, and put out pellets for the blesbok. It was not five minutes before Robert’s wife spotted baboons clambering over the 12’ fence and running to the pellets. Robert took aim at the first thief to arrive at the pile of pellets and sent a .308WIN round through him. When we got down the road to the baboon, he was quite dead. TJ turned around and lased the distance back to the corral. 244 yards! The round had dropped from the baboon’s chest to – well - we now call Robert, the Castrator! When we picked up his monkey, he had stuffed so many pellets into his mouth he looked like a chipmunk.



Now, we went in search of a springbok for Robert. It was very unusual to be able to pursue them in Gauteng province, as apparently, they are normally found in the Free State. I did not learn the size of this ranch, but the herd of blesbok we saw numbered in the hundreds and it was like watching Out of Africa. The flowed away in front of us. To say they ran away simply does not capture the grace and beauty they displayed. TJ and Robert worked for an hour to get close enough for Robert to take a nice ram. If you blow-up the second photo, you can note the effect of the .308WIN 168gr Barnes TTSX.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 7


21SEP21

We moved to Tilodi from Nico’s on this day. TJ & I drove down to the skinning shed and quickly put a tape measure to my kudu horns. Strong 52”. We grabbed Trymore, and then it was time to head to Tilodi.



That evening it was time for some romance points. 21SEP21 was my 25th wedding anniversary. I had colluded with TJ the prior week to cook up something special for my Lovely Spousal Unit. TJ, Natalie, and the Tilodi staff set up a sunset table of fruit, meats, cheeses, and some wine, on an observation deck for us. My wife had no clue whatsoever until she walked down the rocky path to the deck. Can you say Game Winning Touchdown?!?!?!!!! I included a few pics. Many thanks to TJ, Natalie, Rebecca, and Trifena for helping me make a memory for us!

​

22SEP21



We drove 2 hours each way to Palinsburg to play tourist and look at animals. It did add rhino, elephant, hippo, steenbok, and klipspringer to my “animal sited” list. Scored more points with the Lovely Spousal Unit. It was not the same as hunting though.





23SEP21

TJ & I headed out to check a bait station for Robert. He was up late at night trying to snag a bush pig. As we drove into the bait station a flood of baboons ran from the station. Having learned from my zebra, I looked for the last one out. By size I could tell he was the troop leader. Seeing the growing distance, I turned the scope up to 200. As TJ got the truck stopped, I waited for the nose to dip and come back, then settled the dot on the baboon’s chest. (Just like at tank gunnery!) When I squeezed the round off, I put the round through his right hip and out his left chest. I have taken deer running in MO perfectly by putting the crosshair on the front edge of their chest. Not sure why I was experiencing the mental block to leading animals in Africa, but I got the job done.

​

Later that night Robert shot a jackal and a porcupine. When he later saw a full body mount of one at Rupert’s (the taxidermist), he and his wife decided they wanted that work done on his quill pig.





24SEP21

TJ set me in a blind with the skinner, Trymore, overlooking a pond. As we had driven up to the site, baboons ran off. 20 minutes after we settled in, one returned. He was 35 yards from us drinking his fill of the water. I whispered over to Trymore to confirm he was indeed a good baboon to shoot. The baboon heard the whispering and bolted over the embankment of the pond. Trymore had declared him to be “very good”. I think TJ was really expecting me to be able to collect a decent warthog from the waterhole. However, about 30 seconds later, the troop leader cautiously climbed to a seated position about 50 yards away on the dike. Curiosity killed the baboon. I watched him slowly fall out of the scope as the round went through his chest. He was another very fine specimen with razor sharp teeth. Apparently, he had not gotten his morning drink when we drove up and scared them off, so he was the first one back.



I have been teasing my Lovely Spousal Unit that I had the hides of these two baboons tanned and had them leave the tail on the largest one. When I craft a vest for her with the back of the pelt and that tail, I have been telling her she will look like a flying monkey from the Wizard of Oz.



This afternoon, I began to feel like I was coming down with the flu. Just aching and feeling bad all over. The day I took the giraffe, I had pulled a tick from the back of my left knee. That wound was infected and the assessment of the medic (Natalie – all PHs are trained as paramedics in RSA) was that I was starting to come down with tick bite fever. Fortunately, I had brought an azithromycin Rx with me from the states. She recommended that I begin the course of medication.

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 8


25SEP21

This was movement day back to Sherewood Lodge. About 0730, TJ arrived at the front steps of Tilodi. All of our bags were already out of the cabins and piled on the entry porch. I asked him, “What’s the plan, commander? Who and what goes where?” He said people and regular luggage in the van; trophies, Trymore, he, and the rifles in the bakkie. I cringed for a minute. That thing about a Soldier being separated from his rifle. I almost raised a stink, but literally ran through the words in my head, “Well, I will do what my PH says. Damned good thing I did. TJ’s marching orders literally saved my life.



Tips went to the staff. When I handed our envelope of tip money to Trymore, his first words were “Thank you for giving me a job.” What did he do last year when there were no safaris?!



We loaded the vehicles, ate breakfast and mounted up. We got out a little ahead of TJ, as he had to swing by and grab Trymore. In addition, the highways were crazy due to it being RSA’s brai national holiday. The van wound up at Cambano’s for the high-quality souvenir buying gig, significantly before TJ. I kind of loafed through the aisles, as the tick bite fever was dealing me a fit. The Lovely Spousal Unit bought a pendant of the Southern Cross for $80. Gotta love a simple farm girl who is not into diamonds!



About 1300-ish, the right rear axle and wheel came out of the rear end of TJ’s bakkie. This threw the front end to the left and flipped the truck numerous times. TJ was belted in and he survived. He collected 4 cracked vertebrae, two cracked ribs, a broken ankle, and a head full of golf ball-sized lumps for a “slight” concussion.

Note the lack of headroom on the passenger side.



​

Besides the physical toll, TJ lost:

• His dangerous game rifle – the .458 WIN MAG model 70 was in a buffalo hide soft case inside the cab – the stock is shattered
• His binos
• His rangefinder
• Two months pay – no guiding for the remainder of the hunting season
• His truck was totaled
• The cage/rack on the back is wrecked

I am asking the AH community to contact Somerby and send them some money to get this kid back on his feet. He was only able to guide ½ of one day last year due to the scamdemic. He just got back onto his feet this hunting season, and this happened.



From the Somerby website:



To call us from the USA in South Africa:
Dial the following numbers (international dialing codes are provided)

Bear in mind the time difference - we are 7 hours ahead of the Eastern time zone.
Drom: 011 27 72 1184800
Suné: 011 27 79 873 5154

You can also call 815-361-9079 - it will go directly to voice mail. Please leave us a message with your name and number and we will call you back within 24 hours.

FAX: 815-361-9079

To call us from South Africa if you are in South Africa:
Drom: 0721184800
Suné: 0798735154



We found out about the wreck around 1700 hours. Natalie grabbed me and we drove north to Bela Bela to recover what we could of TJ’s luggage and gear, the trophies, and hopefully, my rifles. Andre, one of the other PHs from Somerby, was already there being abused by the police detective. At this time, they were telling us that they were going to press charges against TJ for illegally possessing firearms. RSA is extremely hoplophobic. One cannot buy any ammo for a cartridge that you don’t have a licensed firearm for. Even holding someone else’s firearm is technically breaking the law. Even though I had the keys with me, they considered TJ to have control of my rifles, so he was illegally transporting firearms.



Now, for what was really happening. The white detective had a raging vendetta to prove to the black community that he was not going to do any favors for the white PH that had broken a law. In addition, a lesson had to be taught to the arrogant American tourist who thought he could ignore South African law because he was special. The detective refused to even make eye contact with me, and absolutely refused to speak any English, chewing on and abusing Andre and Natalie in Afrikaans. At one point, he wanted to verify the serial numbers on my rifle vs. my permit. Unfortunately, I had run out of Sherewood Lodge with my keys lying beside my Nanuk hardcase. I told him (through Andre, in English) to cut the locks. He tried and the locks broke the jaws of the bolt cutters. I guess I actually DID have control of the rifles, as he certainly could do nothing with them!



We were able to recover the Somerby FLIR TJ had been using for night hunting, TJ’s luggage, and the road rashed trophies. Sadly, my kudu’s tips were ground off by asphalt contact, the blesbok skull shattered, and there was some damage to the baboon skulls. Sune, Drom’s wife, was on the phone to me when we were headed back south to Sherewood Lodge. Drom had already made contact with the CEO as well as the president of PHASA. Given that we were in the midst of their Labor Day weekend, we already expected to have to extend my stay until MON night’s 2000 flight. Monday morning the chief counsel for PHASA would come over to Sherwood Lodge to meet with me.



Monday morning, Juan Koetz (pronounced “John”) and I met, and then drove the 90 minutes back to Bela Bela. It was a pleasant drive as Juan is a severe gun nerd, so we got on quite well. He is also the president of a shooting organization in the country. I did not retain the name of the organization. However, it has 45,000+ members.



About 1000 we were granted an audience with the captain of detectives. This time, Juan began with the request that our discussions be conducted in English since I did not speak Afrikaans. The captain’s opening statement went something like this: “Well, we thought that Mr. Beach had left South Africa on last night’s flight, but since he has chosen to remain, I believe that we will go ahead and press charges against him for not maintaining physical control of his weapons.” She also intended to pursue charges against TJ as well.



BTW – had I left RSA without my rifles SUN night, I would have been breaking their laws, as I would have left without the rifles on my permit. If this matter didn’t get resolved by Friday, I would be in violation of RSA law, as my rifle permit would expire. The fact that I sent the remaining ammo home with my Lovely Spousal Unit meant I had technically violated RSA law, as she was not authorized to transport ammunition for a rifle that she did not have a permit for. However, if I had not sent the ammo home with her, and kept my Nanuk hard case and the locked ammo boxes locked inside the Nanuk case, then I would have had three bags to check at the ticket counter for a $200 fine/excess baggage fee. Oh yeah – I probably also broke their laws by letting Robert take my back-up rifle to the night-hunting blind without being there myself. How many ways can they make people into criminals? This from the country that is now trying to remove self-defense as a valid reason for being issued a permission slip to possess a firearm.



Juan and she verbally fenced for about 20 minutes. During this time, she admitted that they did not believe that I had any sinister intent when I allowed my rifles to be transported via TJ’s truck. Not that they would have fit in the Kia passenger van holding 6 people and their luggage. According to South African law, without sinister intent, no law is broken. Therefore, another section of their law dictated that the police SHALL return the firearm to the lawful owner if no crime has been committed. Oh, but not so fast! Their SOP dictated that ALL firearms the police take control of must be ballistically tested. Apparently, SAPS (South African Police Service) had had their head handed to them in court when a defense attorney got a case thrown out because the police could not prove that the firearm allegedly used in a crime had been a genuine, functioning firearm. Therefore, every “weapon” now had to be test fired. Not that they had any .375 Ruger ammo. According to the captain, it would take up to 8 months for their tests.



I tried to verify with the captain that I had understood her stance. To comply with her enforcement of the RSA law, I would have had to enter every public restroom with a rifle case in each hand. Each time I ate, I would have to walk into the restaurant with a rifle case in each hand. Did she really want me stirring up their society by parading around with rifles each place I went? She had nothing to say when I brought this up.



BTW – had I raised a stink with TJ about being separated from my rifles that morning, I am sure he would have accommodated his Client’s wishes by letting me ride shotgun. Had I done so, my head would have been smashed like a ripe tomato in the wreck. The passenger side of TJ’s bakkie was smashed down to half-size. My decision to do what my PH recommended had genuinely saved my life.



At this point, Juan was seeing he would get nowhere with the captain. He elected to visit the magistrate (judge) and prosecuting attorney over at the courthouse. We arrived there about 1120. The magistrate was “out to tea”. (My money was on an extended three-day weekend, but everyone was covering for him.) A junior magistrate opined that IF such a case came before her, she would hypothetically not waste her time chasing a silly American that had entrusted his rifles to his PH. No charges had been filed due to the holiday weekend, so without anything on the case docket, no one would commit to any decision.



Juan was reading the tea leaves to be heading in our direction and me getting my rifles back. However, he was seeing it stretching past my 2000 flight that evening. The next flight back to the US was WED night at 2000. He was ready to work his years-long relationship with the police colonel and he felt that things would ease up soon. As the chief counsel for PHASA, Juan had taken great and protracted pains to educate the colonel about the impact hunting has on the RSA economy in terms of national income, local jobs created by hunters, wildlife conservation, food for local people, and the extra tourism income from non-hunting tours and excursions. Obviously, this knowledge had not worked it’s way down to the local precinct folks at Bela Bela.



On the way south from Bela Bela, I vented some to Juan. As I saw it, the police were doing everything in their power to convince me to return to the US and tell every person I knew, as well as every person on AfricaHunting.com, what assholes they were to Americans on safari in their country. Just the cost of the safari paid to Somerby had dropped 298,000 rand into the economy. Robert and his wife added to that, as well as my wife’s sister. Tips to our tracker, souvenirs, meat to the local communities – there was no consideration for any of this. Cutting their nose off to spite their face comes to mind. “Moron” does as well…



Juan tried to spray some Bactine on the scrape by taking me by the Safari & Outdoor store. For those who have not been, this is a 1/3 sized (vs. the KC Store) Cabela’s before the fish guy from Springfield, Missouri bought them out and turned them into a Bass Pro. Very nice collection of gear. I scored a hard copy of Pierre van der Walt’s Medium Game Cartridges for Africa for $60 when the going rate stateside is $85. Our time allotted was too short, as my babysitter was waiting back at Sherewood Lodge.



Drom had now called in another PH (Brendan) to sit with me 24/7. Natalie had been scheduled to guide another safari group that came into the country, so she had now moved on to those duties. The hospital in Pretoria released TJ, but he was in bed at home. Somerby did not charge me a dime more for my extended stay (SUN nite – WED nite). They incurred the cost of my meals and lodging, as well as paying a PH to be with me each day. I was not privy to the actions taken by Drom, but received word from Sune that he was wearing PHASA out with phone calls. Somerby could have put me into YOYO status. Instead they stood by me and made everything as right as they possibly could. They did the right things. Truly a stand-up, high-quality, ethical operation!



28SEP21

Brendan and I had the day to burn while Juan worked his connections in the SAPS realm. We visited Safari & Outdoor again, this time at a more leisurely pace. I scored a pair of Courtney boots for $250 due to a sale. Brendan also took me to two other gun shops in search of the Dangerous Game Cartridges work by van der Walt. We had no luck on that quest.



Juan came by Sherewood Lodge and spoke with me about the status of the situation. He physically brought the RSA legal code book and showed me where it read that when no law has been broken, the firearms SHALL be returned to the lawful owner (me, the permit holder). With the admission of the good captain that I had had no sinister intent, the “no crime committed” box had been checked.



I told him that after ruminating on the situation the prior night, I had decided that going INTO a fight with Drom on one side, and he and PHASA on the other, was preferable to running from it. I felt that staying to fight for my rifles and overthrowing the BS was something that should be done. With allies like these two, I will return to RSA for another hunt.



This left the ballistic testing issue. Juan removed that from the table by securing a 7-page statement from TJ conceding/verifying that my rifles were, indeed, functioning firearms, having slain numerous animals. Juan then asked the SAPS folks for an answer by 1100 on WED. This was based on:

• the transit time from Pretoria to Bela Bela (90 minutes one way)
• a half hour to process the paperwork to release the rifles
• drive time back to Pretoria (90 minutes)
• drive time to the far side of Johannesburg to get to the airport (30 minutes)
• check-in exercises with the rifles at the ticket counter and the SAPS station in the airport

 

[USMA84DAB]

PART 9


29SEP21

Brendan and I were able to take TJ to breakfast this WED morning. He was in great spirits for having been on the Toyota “E Ticket ride” 4 days earlier. Hand crutches, moon boot on the broken ankle, and slow moving, but breathing and moving he was. When we deposited TJ back at his home, we got to meet his Lovely Spousal Unit, Karin. The kids were in school, so they remain in Harvey the white rabbit status.



Brendan & I went back to Sherwood Lodge to await the call to head north to Bela Bela. 1100 hours came and went. We ate lunch. Finally, at 1335, we got the call to go to Bela Bela. When we arrived, a new/different captain transferred my rifles back to me. The captain of detectives was nowhere to be seen. This watch commander captain was smiling and easy going. Reminded me of a crew member on Love Boat. All smiles and congeniality. The handoff went without a hitch. Back south we tore.



Now, as Paul Harvey used to say, the rest of the story. The Bela Bela SAPS folks seem to have taken marked exception to Juan’s request for an answer by 1100 on WED. When he called them at 1100, they informed him that they had changed their minds. They had decided to prosecute me for failure to maintain physical control of my rifles. He was ordered to bring me to the Bela Bela police station immediately for booking. According to Juan, since I was an alien with a ticket to the US and no other ties to RSA, there was a very good chance I would be denied bail as a flight risk. Therefore, I would rot in a South African jail until the trial date.



Based on the diplomacy skills I had watched Juan use before, I find it hard to believe that his request for an answer by 1100 hours was insulting or harsh. Somehow, they managed to twist it into a challenge, however, and went feral on proving who was in charge. Regardless of the cost to their nation, those cops were going to insure that they terrorized me and proved to me I could not flout their laws as an ugly American tourist.



When the order was given to Juan at 1100 that he bring me in for booking, he instead contacted the general of police. This official, finally, declared that enough BS had occurred. No charges would be brought against either me or TJ. Now it was just the time-space issues of the travel and getting checked in. But wait – (enter Billy Mays) there’s more!



When we did get to the airport we cleared the check-in and ticket transfer issue from SUN night’s booked flight to WED night OK. Then the airport security guard/porter escorted us down to the airport SAPS station. Upon arrival there, two female officers were present. They were 100% engrossed in cackling over Fakebook or some such nonsense, and couldn’t be bothered to speak with us or even acknowledge our arrival. The sergeant who was responsible for verifying my weapons matched my permit, was nowhere to be found. With time ticking away and my gate call nearing, the porter grabbed one of the officers and forced her to do her job. She was made by him to look at my rifle serial numbers and the numbers on my permit.



Another wrinkle! Since I had not had my rifles since SAT morning, I was unable to prep them for travel. I spied a single cartridge in a .308 mag. I extracted it and walked over to the third female SAPS officer that had entered the station from a side door.

“Ma’am”, I said, “I just found this in my rifle case and need you to take it.”, trying to hand the cartridge to her.

“I can’t take that.” was her response.

“Well, Ma’am, I sure can’t put it back into my rifle case, and I have a plane to catch, so I need you to dispose of this cartridge.”

I set the round on the stainless steel counter and turned back to closing up my cases. Heaven forbid the police do their job!



Juan gave me his personal copy of van der Walt’s Dangerous Game Cartridges on the way downstairs to the SAPS station, having made it a point to see me off at the airport. Truly a valuable guy to have fighting at one’s side!

Me, Juan, the rifles, and the book.​

I got through the South African version of TSA with the loss of my sewing kit scissors. Yes, those evil, dangerous ½” cutting surface scissors in the Italian army surplus sewing repair kit that passed through the American TSA, were taken by a young lad in RSA. Then it was schlep my carry-on ruck and murse to the gate. Naturally, the first wall outlet I sought to use for the cell phone was inoperative. The next wall support column down the gate waiting area worked, however.



While I was busy hooking up power to charge the cell phone and calling my wife to let her know I was actually going to be allowed to leave RSA with my rifles, an obnoxious gate worker walked up and demanded that I move into the tiny portion of the gate area she had blocked off. The entire gate area was 75 yards long with bench seating on both sides. She had turned seats in to constrict the size to 1/3 of that, forcing everyone on the flight to sit side by side. Meanwhile, every two minutes, the South African version of Joseph Goebles was brainwashing everyone about how FOR OUR SAFETY, we had to sanitize our hands, and FOR OUR SAFETY we had to maintain social distancing, and FOR OUR SAFETY we would get ½ of the normal level of service at the airport due to covid, etc., etc., etc..



I stopped talking to my wife for a moment and informed the petty tyrant that when I had finished speaking to my wife back in the States, I would move to her tiny corral. She did not know quite what to do with my insolence. Apparently, no one had ever told her to screw herself so politely, so she wandered off.



Next was the make jobs program. All of the passengers violating social distancing in the gate waiting area were now ordered out of the seating into the concourse aisle. We were subjected to another “security check” at the gate. The single, 85 year-old couple present was selected for explosive reside screening. Because grandma is always the bomb mule. The rest of us were forced to shuffle through the line back to the gate where two young ladies felt up our carry-on bags as if they were packages of Charmin toilet paper. Someone’s cousin had a contract for “additional security” checkpoints, so our baggage provided the groping victim pool.



Naturally, this was the first day of the spring rains, so the airport air conditioning was struggling to keep the humidity in check. That is always fun when you wear a ruck and carry things quickly to your gate on the far side of the airport. They were thrilled to get rain. I was thrilled that my 3 day safari extension was finally coming to a close without me getting to wear an orange jumpsuit.



Finally, the flight/immobility torture began. This time the electronics worked, and I actually received a pair of earphones for viewing movies. I didn’t see any cases of passenger abuse by the stewardess this time. Arrival at Newark meant “Papers, Please” at US Customs.



These guys were great! Sentient life forms that were polite and professional. They sequenced our inspection IAW the people who had the earliest connecting flights. Brilliant! I actually went back to them before leaving and thanked them for their organizational skills and treating us like humans. They were very pleasant to work with. Now, downstairs to TSA – who also had to verify that our rifles were unloaded, in spite of the Border & Customs folks having just done so. Nothing special about the last leg to KC.



As we used to say in After Action Reviews in the Big Green Machine:



SUSTAINS:

• Rifle set-up – the stubby Alaskan was a joy to shoot, the cartridge was adequate to prevent time-consuming/animal losing tracking. The scope worked superbly in quickly getting the reticle on the target. It carried well.
• Rifle manipulation – the range sessions here in the States were well-worth the hundreds of rounds fired. I was able to mount the rifle, center the reticle and squeeze off rounds quickly and precisely. In addition, when something did go wrong (CLICK!), I was able to instantly fix it and get back into the fight. Every shot was decisive and enough gun, even if the “Africa Tough” animals did not want to concede defeat at the time.
• Clothing – the LAPG pants and wicking shirts were perfect for the climate. The REI hat was lightweight and perfect at reducing sun glare so I could spot animals. The merino wool socks and boot combination worked well.
• Packing was acceptable. It was tough balancing E&E programming from the Army, all of my medical requirements, 3 sets of clothes, insulation in case it got cold, and trying to pack some food I could eat, all within the weight and cube constraints. There is still room for improvement here.
• Return to hunt with Somerby. The exact kind of battle buddies one would want.
• Stay in touch with PHASA. The exact kind of battle buddies one would want.
• Pre-planning for medical emergencies was great. I spent a couple of crummy days with the tick bite fever fight. By the third day, the azithromycin was winning. I still have a hole in my leg, but it is close to being done healing up. Fortunately, none of the GI tract meds were needed!
• PT – in preparation for the trip I Nordic-Trac’ed, rucked with a 35 pound bag 3 miles once a week, lifted weights, worked the “Farm Fit” chore program of cutting, splitting, stacking wood, running a DR mower, etc.. I cannot run any longer due to the mechanicals of the L4/L5 disc collapse, so short of a cage and rods being inserted, I maxed out the PT. It helped to maximize the safari.
• The Viking Tactics sling system worked extremely well.

IMPROVES:

• Try to include more still-hunting/stalking next time.
• Rehearse with the PH how I will engage targets.
• Keep my rifle cases handcuffed to my wrists. : )
• Take more pictures.
• Spend more time at Safari & Outdoor.
• Look for more brass that is unavailable in the States.

 

[Shootist43]

Dan, it sounds like you had a fun filled hunt. Maybe you can show us some more photos during a future trip to Missouri.

 

[Shootist43]

Sorry Dan, my first post was written before I read "the rest of the story." BTW it reminded me of an old saying, "that if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." Glad you got your gun s back. Hopefully you posting your experience about being separated from your rifles will prevent others from dealing with it.

 

[USMA84DAB]

Hope so!

 

[Nyati]

Phew ! What an adventure, I´ve heard of some "problems" with SAPS, but never of that scope, in fact they were quite easily solved.

And congrats on the hunting part

 

[BeeMaa]

Congratulations on the hunt and adventure at the end. When are you going back?

 

[MMAL]

Thanks for taking the time to do a write up. Great hunt and great trophies. I have never heard of story like the one that occurred to you at the end. Wow. Just know that in six times to Africa and reading countless reviews etc you official win the worst luck award. Hope the ph is doing better and don’t worry about the trophies. I just got the shipping bill from a caprivi 2020 hunt and puked a little in my mouth. Glad you have pictures.

 

[Art Lambart II]

Except for the fun with the SAP at the end of your safari it sounds like you had a great time. I do have a question for you. Did you hump that ruck sack on all of your stalks?

 

[Art Lambart II]

You should only visit Safari and Outdoor after your hunt is over, that place can really cut into your extra animal budget.

 

[USMA84DAB]

I hope everyone "hears" my solid and firm praise for the way that Drom and Sune (and the whole team) of Somerby Safaris, and PHASA, stood behind me and did NOT leave me in YOYO status!!!!

I will go back to hunt with them because they are people I can count on in a fight. That is pretty damned important to a Soldier.

 

[USMA84DAB]

Art - I did not take the Eberlestock on the stalks - it stayed in the bakkie all day. A time or two the CamelBack went, but not the Eberlestock.

MMAL - yes - I had some petty tyrants with political agendas to fight with - but Holey Schnikes! What a superb - dare I say, perfect - safari put on by TJ and Somerby! TJ just vibrated with energy and happiness when he was guiding me - it is his passion. He knew where to find animals that matched my desires - no hunting with a tape measure, and no world records - strongly representative animals of the species. Boy, did he get that square on the nose. He tried to work in stalks IAW my request. He found me more hunting to do after I finished finding my contracted trophies. The Somerby staff even helped me hit a grand slam for my 25th wedding anniversary! What a perfect wingman to have! I am not sure how they could have made the safari better.

I agree - TJ's accident was bad luck. The 2nd or 3rd day, I was quizzing him about the bakkie - did he own it, or was it Somerby's, how did the maintenance work, etc.. I was an HHC CDR, an S-4 x2, and a Cav troop XO doing maintenance in the Army, so I think of this minutia. In the discussion he was VERY proud of how he meticulously maintained it. It was always ready to go. I still have never even figured out how an axle comes out of the pumpkin in the back. It has to be catastrophic failure of a gear piece, an overlooked pin by a mechanic, a recall part not replaced? It was a mechanical bad luck episode - NOT a neglect issue from TJ!!!! This is the kind of thing that brought up the "Two is one, one is none kind of thinking in the military. If there is a piece of equipment absolutely essential to your mission, you better have a spare, because Murphy is gunning for that gear!

The SAPS tried to terrorize me by threatening to arrest me two separate times. It just didn't work. Juan/PHASA/Somerby had my back and I just went to bed each night and slept well. I guess looking back on this, even this trial resulted in a satisfying memory because I had Juan/Phasa and Somerby in the foxhole, standing right beside me, fighting with me. How does one value that loyalty and proper character? Well, this Soldier values it very deeply.

 

[CAustin]

PART 3


BTW – the norm was Nico AND his property manager rode in the cab of the bakkie, Robert and I in the seat, TJ standing in the bed behind us. Three sets of calibrated eyeballs searching for game, and every so often Robert or I would spot something. These guys were working hard to find our animals and get us on them!



The return to the camp was followed by firepit time, some adult beverages. Leonard, the one-man band caretaker, made us chef-level chow. That guy just breathes “I want to serve you.”

​

17SEP21 – We began the quest for the kudu as it was the most elusive animal on my list. The zebra had permitted TJ to assess where I was at in terms of skill level and how he would have to guide me. I passed the assessment OK. We drove around looking for the kudu, only seeing numerous cows and calves, and occasionally a teenag,e or just off the teat male. TJ spotted a very good blesbok which was on Robert’s list. He made a great running shot on the old fighter to anchor him.

​

After the pictures for Robert, we continued the search for the kudu bull. TJ and I dismounted to drive through a thick area in hopes of kicking bulls out of their hiding spots. I had to unlearn my 5-meter interval programming from patrolling. TJ stopped and told me to stay up on his ass so that when he put up the sticks, I could get immediately on them. My two brain cells rubbed together hard and a light bulb went on. The PH-hunter team is similar (at least in my feeble Soldier mind) to an Army sniper team. The lesser experienced one is the shooter. The spotter/PH evaluates the target, feeds info to the shooter to get him on the target so that he can successfully engage. My focus was to be getting the bullet into the right spot before the opportunity disappeared. I was NOT to be dally-whacking 25 yards behind the PH with my binos, trying to see what he had spotted. I needed to trust that when he threw the sticks up, there was going to be a target that required and merited my attention. This realization enabled me to be a much better hunter under TJ’s guidance. I understood 1,000% what my focus should be and the tasks required of me.



I almost feel like I should have left my binos at home. I used them from that point on for sight-seeing at the lodge watering hole, or very occasionally from the back of the bakkie. On the next trip, to pursue a buffalo, there may be the chance to examine the herd with TJ as we sort out which bull to pursue. In general, however, I took the step learned from reading PH comments on AfricaHunting.com and decided to trust what my PH was telling me. This would eventually literally save my life later in the safari.



Meanwhile, the bakkie with Nico, his manager, and Robert moved to our pick-up point. On the way, they spotted a very nice, mature impala ram. Robert decided to pass on it as he already had an impala and this was my first trip. When TJ & I got to the truck, we headed back to see if we could find the ram again. As the truck neared the herd, they casually strolled into a huge brush island. Nico took the truck off to the right side of the island. By the time we had circled to about 2 O’clock on the island of brush and bushes, the herd started to amble out of the island towards 10 O’clock. It was easy to spot the ram. I waited until he walked out of the brush into the open to fire. The round entered behind his right shoulder and exited about 2” down his left neck, dropping him in place. I had told TJ that I wanted strongly representative animals. I was not going to hunt with a tape measure and did not want to waste days seeking world record trophies. So far, we were perfectly nailing the quality of trophy aspect of the hunt.

​

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the ladies had run off to go 4 wheeling for the day with Natalie, their guide/PH. From the after-action comments, they had an absolute ball.



We continued to search for the kudu bull, but were only finding adolescents that were perhaps ½ to ¾ grown. After lunch, we switched areas. The adjoining property manager, Jock, rode in the rear with TJ. His ranch was a bit more SW US desert-like with less trees and more brush. It also contained a generous sprinkling of termite mounds. I described the terrain as if when God finished creating the world, He had a significant quantity of rocks left over. He must have taken a pinch in between His thumb and finger and sprinkled them liberally over South Africa! There were softball to kickball-sized rocks THICK, everywhere.



The winding, switchback bakkie trails climbed up and down the terrain. We passed the ranch’s cape buffalo breeding herd that would not move until we were 10 yards from them. Intermingled with the buffalo were the sable, the star stud sporting rubber tubing on his horn tips to protect them from damage, as well as the other males from the same.



After driving for several hours about the ranch, we were climbing a grade along a boundary fence road when we saw an animal 1,000 yards away also using the road. TJ opined that a cow would not use the road, only a bull. His binos confirmed it was indeed an oryx bull, and one worthy of stalking. We continued our steady pace driving 5 MPH to about 300 yards before he heard the tires on the gravel and whirled to confront us. After a few moments of standoff, he decided to seek concealment in the brush. We drove up to where he left the road and TJ & I dismounted. We stalked slightly downhill 50 yards through the brush. TJ put the sticks up. Now, TJ is a bit taller of a lad than I am – being perhaps 6’2” and my tree trunk physique tops out at 5’10”. I had to quickly whisper “LOWER”, as I couldn’t get on the rifle initially. We got that sorted, and I watched the bull move from left to right, crossing a small opening. I ALMOST squeezed off the round, but was afraid of flubbing the shot as he didn’t stop. If I had it to do again, I would have taken the shot. I was lucky that he gave me another chance.


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Glad to hear Leonard is still taking care of all the hunters and their families.