AFRICA 2025 DIARY
BY MARK AUSTIN
October 4, 2025. Just returned from Iceland where we had a wonderful time with the family. Autumn and I, Mark, Kyle and Kelsey, Eric and Virginia. Now packing for an African safari with Steve Watkins and Jeff Weisswasser.
Oct. 9, 2025 (Thursday)
Steve picked me up and we both drove to Jeff's where he had arranged for one of his employees to drive us to the airport. We checked our bags and our rifles. apparently I was lucky enough to get the guy that didn't know how to check in weapons for overseas travel and Steve and Jeff had to wait while they got it all sorted out. With that done, we were checked in for the first leg of our journey, which was Atlanta. We had a layover for a few hours and finally boarded around 9 PM...Where we sat on the tarmac for three hours before they deplaned us due to mechanical issues. We were already starting off on the wrong foot. Delta put up up in some flee bag hotel not to far from the airport where Steve began making phone calls to Delta to get us on the next flight to Johannesburg SA. Meanwhile, I made calls to our outfitter to let them know what was going on. Unfortunately, we couldn't get a flight to Joburg until the 15th. Our outfitter was kind enough to extend our safari for the days we missed and Steve booked the travel plans. We had Delta fly us back home where we waited several days to re-begin our journey. Autumn was surprised to see me walk in the door, but happy I was spending a few extra days with her anyways.
Oct. 15, 2026
Back to the airport. Took off for Atlanta where we got our connector to Joburg, and after nineteen hours in the sky, we landed the next day.
Oct. 16, 2026
We were met by some nice chaps from Rifle Permits Dot com and they cleared our weapons through customs and SAPS (South African Police Service) for us without any issues. It was well worth the $165 we spent on that. After that, a young man named Gian, from Matwetwe safari company met us at baggage claim and drove us the three to four hours to camp where we met the staff and were shown our quarters. The rooms were top notch and we had no issues with them being air conditioned, hot showers, private bathrooms, etc. By the time we made camp it was well after midnight and we were beat. we had an early morning ahead of us and were looking forward to getting some sleep, so off to bed we went.
Oct. 17, 2026
We were up at the crack of dawn and headed across the compound for a quick cup of coffee or two and some toast. Afterwards we met with our respective PH's and trackers, loaded up our gear and guns into the Hilux, and were off. Steve and I hunted together with PH Herman, pronounced, "Are-mon", and Jeff hunted with the owners son Harm in a different vehicle elsewhere.
Steve and I were sitting in the high seat and weren't ten minutes out of camp on our first day when the Toyota came to a halt on the red sand two- track we were traversing when our PH pointed out the only thing that terrified himself and the trackers alike. Spanning the entire two-track was a huge black mamba slithering along. I've hunted Africa before with my son Kyle, but we were in the northern Province at that time (and were now hunting the Limpopo Province) and the mambas were not in that area. At that time, out PH told us, and I quote, "We really don't have any dangerous snakes in this area, we only have the African cobra and the puff adder." I questioned this fellow as to what he though the word "dangerous" actually means.
Anyway, I digress. The huge black mamba slithered it way into the bush and we carried on, but it didn't take me long to realize that a charging cape buffalo had nothing on a black mamba for our seasoned PH and trackers. This was truly the only thing that really spooked them and I made a mental note to watch my step.
We put a few miles on our boots that morning and around 10:30 our PH suggested that we go back to camp and have a bite to eat, then head back out. since we had already been hunting for almost five hours, we had no qualms about that. What we didn't expect was a breakfast buffet that belonged in a five star hotel. Chef Leon had made a huge spread and we soon found out that this was the daily routine. Up at 5 AM, a quick cup of Joe and a slice or two of toast, hunt until ten or eleven, and then head back to camp for a wonderful breakfast / brunch. We would then hunt till dusk and head in for another amazing multi course dinner spread, which included dished that looked more like a work of art than food. I hated to ruin them they were so pretty. I didn't see anything I was looking for, or I should say, anything that my PH thought was worth shooting, which by the way I also quickly found out that my PH was a very fussy fellow and wouldn't let his hunters take any sub-par animals, insisting that we deserve trophy animals and not the run of the mill critters. Steve took a great waterbuck, which is something that he has wanted for years. It did give us a run for our money. As I recall, our PH had spotted this particular waterbuck and had been after him for several years, but every time they tried to put a stalk on it, it would vanish. Apparently this chap didn't get that big by being dumb. When we spotted it in the tall grass and drove around some boulders, we saw it run off in the distance and just like that, it was gone. Our PH was insistent that it was not gone, it was just hiding. I've never heard of anything like that before, but he still insisted we look for it. Our driver drove the Hilux slowly through the tall grass, hitting every warthog hole along the way, nearly tossing us out of the vehicle multiple times. After 45 minutes someone spotted it. I can't remember if it was our tracker of Herman, but he said, look under that tree. we strained our eyes and saw nothing. Then I saw it. A set of horned sticking up out of the long grass. They blended in so well, but Steve still couldn't see it. I pointed it out to him and said, watch, you can see the horns move as he looks around. He was actually laying down with his head up watching and waiting for us to leave. I'd never seen anything like it. Steve still couldn't see it even though it was only 30 yards away. Still in the high seats, we had our driver start the noisy diesel engine to see if the buck would stand. It didn't. we had him creep the Hilux a little closer. It still held fast. We were now only 20 yards away and this sly beast was positive he would once again get the best of another hunting party. Steve was looking intently through his scope, set on it's lowest power, and still not seeing what everyone else was looking at. This isn't uncommon. it happens to the best of us. Finally Herman gave a whistle or a shout and the animal jumped from it's bed. Steve followed through with his 30-06 and fired. The critter went down, and before Steve could rack in another cartridge, it was up and running again. He took a few more shots at the animal as it hightailed it out of Dodge. we followed in the Hilux and once again lost it. After another 30 minutes we jumped it and Steve put a final shot into a beautiful waterbuck. Out first animal of the safari was down. later that night after we returned to camp, we heard that Jeff had taken a real nice kudu and also hit a gemsbuck that still needed to be located. It was now dark and nobody wanted to leave that gemsbuck overnight to be eaten by hyena's or other scavengers. but Jeff's PH Harm had a trick up his sleeve and invited us to go out to locate Jeff's gemsbuck. when we arrived close to where Jeff had hit it, Harm stopped the truck and took out a small case. From there he removed a drone quadcopter that was equipped with an IR camera. He fired it up and sent it skyward, and quickly located a bedded gemsbuck, still alive. He hovered the drone over the animal while Jeff and Hendrik (the owner of the safari company) started off towards the flashing red and green lights of the drone. When Jeff was near the drone, Harm radioed than and told then which way to move, guiding them into shooting range. The gemsbuck was holding tight when Harm told them to stop as it was just 20 yards in front of them. Jeff still couldn't see it in the dark. Harm told him to be ready to shoot, and like out of a movie, he turned on a spotlight that was on the drone and lit up the area from above. Jeff saw the animal and put it down. we all shook hands and slapped each other on the backs while someone opened a cooler and passed out bottles of beer. It was a good first day.
Up again at the crack of dawn after a good nights sleep. I had my now usual two cups of coffee and a couple slices of toast. In the early morning, our new best friend chef Leon isn't up yet, but he always makes sure there is plenty of bread, cereal, juice, milk, and coffee ready for us before he shuts down for the night. Afterwards, Steve and I grabbed our gear and and tossed it in the Hilux and headed out to a new area our PH wanted to check out. We rode inside the cab today as the drive was a little lengthy and the the mornings are generally cold and require a jacket of some type. We would switch to the high seats in back once we arrived at our destination. It usually didn't take long for it to warm up once the sun broke over the horizon and we were soon striping of jackets and shirts. I was down to a t-shirt by mid morning most days. The African sun can be brutal and a hat, preferably something with a wide brim, such as a boonie hat and sunglasses are a must. I recall one day looking over at my fair-skinned hunting partner Steve and seeing his nose and cheeks badly sunburned. He didn't even realize it until I took a picture with my phone and showed him. The owners wife gave him some super sun block when we went in for our big breakfast that day.
It was just after 6 AM when we spotted some giraffe starring at up like we were the strange looking creatures. Watching these huge animals run in what can only be described as "slow motion", yet covering a lot of ground at the same time was amazing. Some time around 10 AM we spotted a small herd of blue wildebeest and tried to get closer for a shot. They seemed a bit spooky and the closest we could get was around 300 yards. We stopped the truck and glassed them for awhile and finally decided there was a good animal in the bunch, so I slid my Remington 700 classic, in .264 win. Mag onto the sandbag our PH had thrown up onto the roof of the Hilux and steadied for the shot. I sent a 120 grain Barnes TTSX on it's way and heard the "thwunk" as the bullet hit it's mark, and all hell broke lose as the herd ran and intermingled with each other. My PH had luckily been watching closely and told me, "shoot the one up front!" Those animals were now over 400 yards away and running fast, so I gave him some lead and squeezed off a shot only to miss. We watched them go into some thick cover and decided to give them some time to settle down before going in after them. We did eventually locate my beast, who being wounded had separated from the herd. I put him down with a shot from under 100 yards. He turned out to be a real beauty and will be a nice addition to the trophy room. By the time we had him winched up into the back of the Hilux we were running a bit late for our daily luxury breakfast and it was suggested that we head in to camp. Chef Leon kept the giant dish of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and other pastries warm for us and the bowls of cut fresh cut fruit cold. And of course the coffee steaming hot.
After cleaning up and a short break, we loaded back into the Hilux and were off on another adventure. Although I already had one, I was in search of another nice impala for a Euro mount, and Steve was in search of a blesbok. Jeff would be joining us today as his PH was to attend his best friends wedding and would be out of town for a few days. Jeff is the oldest in our group and at 78 years young, he got around remarkably well, but we hunted hard and put a lot of miles on our boots and it was taking it's toll on our old friend. When our PH mentioned grabbing our gear and hiking to an area, Jeff mentioned jokingly that he thought a nap would be a better idea. And nap he did. He decided to stay back in the truck and rest with the tracker while Steve and I, with our PH Herman put more miles on our boots. For all that walking, we didn't get close to any game nor see anything that even interested us except for a couple of steenbok that wouldn't let us within a country mile of them. It was late afternoon when we were driving the old Hilux down a sandy two-track when we spotted a small group of impale jump across the road in front of us. It's absolutely amazing how far these animals can jump, easily clearing the entire road in one bound, their legs stretched out perfectly in line with the rest of their body, like a diver doing a perfect Olympic dive from the high board. One nice ram decided to stop in some bushes at trailside to see what were were. Everyone in the back of that truck was pointing to him, and I couldn't see him. Like Steve and his waterbuck, I was the only one that couldn't pick the animal out in the tall grass and brush. Finally Steve grabbed the barrel of my rifle and moved it in the direction of the animal, still standing there for what seemed an eternity and it magically came into focus in my Trijicon scope. I couldn't believe how well that animal blended into his surroundings simply by standing still. One shot from my .264 put him down at 70 yards. He was a beauty and will always be remembered, living on well past his lifetime in my trophy room.
By the way, none of the animals we took went to waste. We dined on the impala and other animals nightly and the rest of the meat goes to employees that work for the safari company, as well as being sent to market for others to eat as well.
We had finished loading the ram into the truck just after 3 O'clock and were crossing a large open veld when we spotted several blesbok.
There was a good one in the group and Steve grabbed his trusty 30-06 and made ready for a shot. Herman was glassing the group and told Steve to wait until he gave him the go ahead. This by the was is how hunting in Africa goes. You listen to your PH. If he tells you to shoot, you shoot. If he tells you not to shoot, you don't. You do what you're told, and going rogue is met with distain. It's for the safety of everyone involved as well as for the betterment of the game herds. The PH knows the land like the back of his hand and knows if it's safe or legal to shoot. If you want to stay on his good side, you best listen. I'll cover a bit more on that later.
We were able to get within about 200 yards of the blesbok and Herman gave Steve the go ahead to shoot the one he was told to take. Steve made a great shot and dropped the animal in his tracks.
The same day we spotted a group of wildebeest and Jeff decided to have a go for one. They were all very jumpy as wildebeest generally are. We followed that small herd for quite some time before Jeff was able to get a shot. Although he hit the animal, his shot was off. We all tracked that animal for hours. we even split up with Steve and I taking one area, and Jeff and Herman another. Steve and I were in some heavy mopane when we heard something shuffling through. The brush was thick and we couldn't see more than a few yards, but could hear the quiet footsteps of what we hoped was Jeff's wounded wildebeest. The footsteps seemed to be getting closer but we couldn't see what was making them. Just then Steve shot me a look that told me to "look up." Lo and behold, I looked up and saw a giant staring back down at me. A giraffe, as big as they are, with his perfect built in camouflage, had walked right up to within 10-15 yards on two seasoned hunters, without us knowing. He sauntered away and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. Awhile after, we heard several shots and walked towards the area they had come from. Herman and Jeff had tracked down the wildebeest and put it down with several shots from Herman's .458 Win Mag, as well as Jeff's .280 Remington. He took a dandy of a wildebeest and was very happy with his trophy. We did so good that day we actually had to call for a second truck to get our animals back to camp where the skinners would take care of the game for us. By the way, speaking of skinners, these guys are professionals at what they do. For the most part, skinning game is all they do and they are the best. Just make sure you don't loan one of them your $200 knife unless you want it sharpened on a rock.
Back at camp, we hit the bar and had a few sundowners before chef Leon called us to the table. He had steak filets from one of the animals we harvested, roasted corn on the cob, and a potato dish set out for us. Of course he served appetizer's beforehand as well. We sat around reminiscing about the day while have a few nightcaps before wandering off to bed.
Another early day. We found ourselves hunting fairly close to camp which was a nice change of pace. We actually got to sleep in a half hour later due to the close proximity. The day was already starting out to be a hot one and we were on the hunt for zebra. Both Steve and I were looking to shoot a zebra, and even though we had both taken nice zebra's on previous safaris, and had the beautiful zebra rugs to show for it, a Zebra is one of those animals that you want to have both a rug, and a wall mount.
Once again, we spotted game from the truck but they were extremely spooky. We decided to park the truck and start walking. It was already hot and dusty. I was stripped down to a t-shirt by 7 AM. After walking miles and jumping a lot of zebra, we finally spotted a few mingling nervously about 125 yards away. We could see them moving in and out of the thick thorn trees, acacia trees if I recall. I had to get so ow to the ground for a shot, my PH Herman couldn't even set up the shooting sticks. Instead, he sat down in front of me and told me to rest my rifle on his shoulder while plugging his ears with his fingers. I did as told and took the shot and watched to zebra drop. Herman jumped up and congratulated me and said he had never seen a zebra drop in it's tracks before. Walking up to the animal, I placed a coup 'de gras into the beast, realizing that the animal only dropped in his tracks due to my poor shot that hit him in the spine. My excitement and heavy breathing combined with Herman's excitement and heavy breathing made for an unsteady rest and threw the shot upwards. But I'll take a little luck any day and was glad to have my zebra.
It was only 10 AM when we loaded in into the truck and drove it back to camp, where chef Leon had breakfast waiting once again.
We decided to hunt around the camp that day and hoped our luck would hold out. Jeff wanted a warthog and Herman had a few ideas of where we could find one. There was a raised blind overlooking a watering hole used for cattle. Many of the plains game also used the water hole and Herman had our tracker drop us off and told him to keep his radio on. To say it was hot is an understatement. It was already close to 100 degrees outside by noon, and sitting inside a plywood shack with a tin roof easily brought those temps closer to 120. Before we left, I changed into kaki shorts and a lightweight safari shirt, along with the gaiters I always wore over the tops of my boots to keep out sand, seeds, bugs, and anything else that has a way of getting into your boots.
Speaking of boots, we were advised to make sure we gave our boots a good whack on the floor each morning and turning them upside down, just in case something undesirable climbed into them during the night as often happens. The last thing you want is to put your boot on while a scorpion is taking a siesta inside.
We sat in that hot box for hours and saw what I personally thought was a good shooter warthog, but was told it was a female, and although it had great tusks, they don't like to shoot female hogs. Jeff never did get a shot at a warthog that day, but he did take a beautiful sable.
Oct. 20, 2026
Jeff's PH, Harm was back so it was Steve and I alone with Herman once again. We got up extra early today because Herman wanted to go further out into the bush to look for zebra that weren't so jumpy. We drove over an hour in the dark before arriving at our destination. We were seeing zebra almost immediately and it was a somewhat cloudy day, which seemed unusual for Africa to me. It was 6 AM and the sun hadn't broke the horizon yet. It was cold and we were walking the bush in search for Steve's zebra. We walked and walked, seeing a few fleeting glimpse of our elusive quarry, never getting close enough for a shot. We walked back to the Hilux and had the tracker take us down the road to another section that was more open. It was then that we spotted a group of zebra making their way across the veld. Temba, out tracker and driver stopped the truck. Herman quickly tossed a sandbag onto the roof of the truck and Steve grabbed his 30-06 from the built in rifle rack and threw it up onto the bags. The animals were at least 200 yards out and Steve let loose with a shot. I filmed the whole thing and told him it was a good shot. We watched as the group ran off at light speed as one of them veered off and started to fall behind. All of this happened in a matter of seconds and the animal dropped and never moved again. Temba drove the Hilux towards the fallen zebra, carful not to drive into one of the hundreds of warthog holes that are strewn about. Steve took a beautiful specimen and was posing for pictures by 7:20 AM. I'm sure it will look great in his trophy room.
About these warthog holes I keep referring to. Warthogs like to hang out in large burrows, often made by other animals such as aardvark's and such. And although they have been known to dig their own holes, I believe they are basically quite lazy and prefer to take over the burrows of others and "redecorate" the holes to suit their needs. They generally back into these hide outs to get out of the heat as well as for protection from predator's at night. The holes can be quite deep and are almost always hidden by tall grass, and dropping a front wheel into one is really a bone jarring experience, especially for those sitting in the high seats. We were stuck more than once when a front or rear wheel fell into a hole, tipping the truck sideways. While exploring one of the deeper holes, I decided to climb down into one while stating to all, "look how deep this hole is!" It was then that my PH told me that black mamba's and other snakes like to crawl down in those holes to stay warm. I think I may have set a record for the high jump getting out of that hole.
By 8:20 AM we were walking down a sandy road watching a giraffe who was busy watching us, when a single impala crossed in front of the giraffe. Herman threw up the shooting sticks and told Steve that it was a good one if he wanted it. Steve set his rifle in the crook of the sticks, waited for it to walk past the giraffe, took aim and fired. The impala jumped six feet in the air and disappeared into the bush. We walked over and found a bit of blood. Temba our tracker joined us and the search was on. Although I filmed the shot and it appeared to be good, we searched for hours for that impala without any luck. The blood trail went dry and he was gone. Herman decided that this animal would not be found by us. By predators' maybe, but not by us.
Around 3 O'clock in the afternoon we came upon a herd of cape buffalo and were careful not to get to close and risk upsetting them. Thirty minutes later we spotted a nice shooter warthog. This was one of the animals that I really wanted. My son Kyle and I had both taken warthogs in the northern province some years ago, but they were not a great representation of the species that I had wanted. I came to find out that different areas of the country mattered when looking for a hog with large tusks. Areas with hard ground tend to produce hogs with shorter tusks as they are constantly being worn down from their rooting. Likewise, areas with soft ground produce larger tusked animals. Herman told me that that was a great warthog and I may not see another one like it again. We lost that hog in the tall grass and Temba started to drive slowly through all of it. It was just then that Herman and Steve both spotted it, and once again, I was the only one that didn't see it. I remember than telling me, "It's hiding under that tree", when suddenly it jumped up and ran like hell. I swung my rifle and fired, tumbling the beast. Herman was ecstatic and more excited than I was. When we walked up to it he was still giddy. He must have seen the look on my face and told me, "We haven't taken a warthog this nice in at least three years!, Hendrick is going to scream when he see's this!" And sure enough, Hendrick did scream when he saw it, and congratulated me on a fine warthog.
We had another one of chef Leon's fabulous dinners, along with a few sundowners and were off to bed.
Oct. 21, 2026
Steve and I were up extra, extra early as we were to hunt black wildebeest with the owners son Harm today. Harm had told us that black wildebeest were not common in our area of the Limpopo province due to some kind of sickness or disease that affected only black wildebeest. We hunted another concession that belonged to someone he knew that was a two hour drive from camp with no luck. Harm made some calls and we were off heading another two hours further from our base camp. This place was actually a huge farm for cattle and sheep. Think of it as hunting whitetail deer on farm land in the states, only this farm was hundreds of square miles, and instead of deer had the black wildebeest we were looking for.
I'd like to mention that black wildebeest are much smaller than their cousins the blue wildebeest, probably around the size of a very large deer. The black wildebeest will weigh in roughly at the 250 pound range with some of the largest going another hundred or so pounds or more. Their horns vary from the blue wildebeest, in that they stick pretty much straight out from the forehead and swoop upwards, like devil horns, whereas the blue wildebeest, which can weigh upwards of 600 lbs, has horns that come out from the sides of their heads and then swoop up, kind of like a cape buffalo. In fact, they are often referred to as the poor mans cape buffalo.
As luck would have it, we spotted several large herds which seemed to sometimes intermingle into one giant herd, and then split up again. These animals were wild. They never stopped moving and would constantly bob their heads up and down wildly. I was told that they do this for several reasons. One is to assert herd dominance, and the other is to dislodge botfly larva from their nasal passages, which was obviously what was going on here as every single animal was doing it. They rarely stood still either. They were constantly running around in circles. It reminded me of those videos you would see of schools of fish or flocks of birds moving about in what looks like some type of circular pattern. Our PH simply said they were all crazy. If the animals were at rest and a single wildebeest started bucking and running, they all started in. We soon found that getting a shot at one of these creatures was not going to be easy, and with over a hundred sets of eyes on us, it wouldn't be a close shot either. There was simply no way to stalk these strange animals on foot, as when you got anywhere near close enough for a reasonable shot (and we're talking 300 yards or more) they would run off and if e were lucky, they may stop a half mile away. Most often, it was further. We spent most of the time following from a distance in a Land Cruiser, hoping to get close enough for a shot. Several times we had been within shooting distance and actually on the gun when suddenly, all hell would break loose and off they went. I finally had a chance and Harm used his Zeiss binoculars with built in range finder and told me, 328 yards, and to hold on the top of it's back. I was rock steady when I pulled the trigger and the animal jumped and ran, but was soon trailing the group. The herd stopped to rest and my wildebeest mingled among them. it was a long wait until I had another clear shot, but we could tell he was wounded, we just didn't know where. After another hour or so he couldn't keep up with the group and I eventually got the shot and put him down. Upon inspection, my first shot had hit him in the leg (elbow). Now it was Steve's turn to give it a go. Remarkably his shot went pretty much the same way when his time came, although he was shooting a 30-06 that has more of a sharper drop rate due to a heavier bullet and slower speed than my .264 Win Mag. Steve hit his animal in the exact same place I hit mine, right in the elbow. But, his animal was also closer, so that made up for the drop. Steve and I both discussed how we could be so far off and both came to the conclusion that Harms range finder was off. We asked him how long he had the unit and he told us that a client gave them to him. Then we asked him if he ever calibrated them, he looked surprised as if he didn't know they should be calibrated and was a little offended. We both went out to the range the camp had set up. It was a well built concrete table with sand bags and a Lead Sled. I shot first at 200 yards and my bullet was right on the money. Steve's as well. Then we moved out to 300 yards. My shots grouped well and landed exactly where I expected them to, which was about 4-5 inches low. Steve's shots went where he expected as well. From there it was easy to extrapolate where our shots would be at 400 and 500 yards. We truly believe those animals were out past 500 yards when the PH told us they were around 300. Also, his rangefinder was also in meters and he called of yards to us, which easily added another 25 or so yards as 325 meters is 355 yards. According to the ballistic charts for my cartridge, taking into consideration bullet weight and velocity, I would be 17" low at 400 yards, and just over 32" low at 500 yards. That would put me pretty much exactly where I hit. We are both positive Harms Zeiss rang finding binos are out of whack, and could possibly be the reason the client gave them to him.
we gutted the animals for the four hour trip home and thanked our host who was kind enough to let us hunt his farm. We pulled in well after dark and missed dinner.
Oct. 22, 2026
We started out our day after the usual coffee and toast and headed out to look for a steenbok for myself and a duiker for Steve. Herman had been told that there was a farm not to far away that had a lot of steenbok, and as he put it, was owned by a crazy lady. We picked up her farm hand and he rode in the back of the truck with us and guided us through the area. We basically followed the road that bordered the fence line and would jump these little antelope and hope for a shot. The steenbok would bed down and let you drive right by them, so there's no telling how many we didn't see, but we did jump a bunch. The farm hand had Tembo stop the truck and pointed to a bedded steenbok not 35 yards from us. Herman told me not to shoot him in the usual place (shoulder) because it would ruin the mount, but instead, gut shoot him as they are so small it would kill them pretty much instantly. I grabbed my rifle from the rack and wrapped the sling around my arm to steady the shot as fast as I could. the shot was perfect and I had my steenbok. I was glad that the farm hand was along for the ride and I gave him $20 USD for his help. Herman told me that the fellow didn't even know what it was I handed him. He obviously knew it was money, but as Herman explained, these people don't even know how to read and write. He asked Herman if he could exchange the USD for SA Rand and Herman calculated to amount and gave his it's equal in Rand. He told me they frown on giving them money because that $20 US was more than he made in a weeks time slaving on that farm, and they don't want the, to expect that kind of money every time someone hunts the farm. I honestly didn't care one bit and was glad to help the poor guy out because I now had all six of the animals I came to Africa for! I had my zebra, blue wildebeest, black wildebeest, warthog, impala, and steenbok.
Steve's tally was a zebra, black wildebeest, blesbuck, and waterbuck so far. He still wanted an impala and had a duiker included in his package that he has yet to see. We did end up spotting a nice impala and Steve dropped it with one shot. The funny thing is, Harm had taken out another group of two hunters that day and noticed a herd of impala running across the veld with one wounded animal running in the back, it's right front leg flopping in the wind, just hanging on by sinew and some skin. It was Steve's lost impala for several days ago. Harm put the animal down and brought it in for give to Steve. He may as well have it, because a lost animal is considered a taken animal and you must pay the fee for it.
Steve had one extra animal on his list that he'd been wanting for quite some time, a baboon. So we hopped into the Hilux and drove to a mountainous area where Herman said baboons like to hang out. We did see a few, but no shots were taken. Later on we has Jeff along looking for a warthog for him. We spotted one several hundred yards away and Herman grabbed his binoculars to glass the hog telling Jeff he will let him know if he can shoot or not. About two seconds later a shot rang out and Steve and I looked at each other with that WTF? look on our faces. Our ears were ringing and Herman was not happy at all with Jeff to say the least. Not only did Jeff break the cardinal rule of not shooting unless your PH says ok, but we now had to lose time searching for any signs of a hit when we could have been hunting. We lost an hour and didn't find anything.
Oct. 23, 2026
Steve went in search of his baboon with owner Hendrick. They brought along a pop-up blind, a couple of stools, and a Death Grip shooting platform. In case you don't know what that is, it's an aluminum tripod that has a rubberized vice like grip on top that clamps around the stock of your rifle. This way, you can leave your rifle pointed in the general direction of your expected shot and have a very steady shooting platform. Steve did see a baboon about 200 yards away on the road in an orange drove I believe. He took the shot and missed, and that was that as far as baboons go. There's always next time.
Meanwhile, Jeff had pretty much filled his bag with everything he wanted, including a jackal that he happened to see on the run and made a fantastic shot on. He had nine animals at this point and Herman took us out for a drive not far from camp. Jeff had said he was done hunting, yet he brought his rifle, lol. I on the other hand left my rifle in it's case back at camp and considered myself done with this safari. I told Jeff I had seen some beautiful golden wildebeest in the area and that one of them would make a nice mount next to the blue wildebeest he had already taken. He wasn't impressed with my sales pitch and said he had spent enough money. I laughed and whispered to Herman that I have a $20 dollar bill that say's Jeff will shoot a golden wildebeest and bet him I could talk Jeff into shooting. Herman laughed and knew Jeff was a trigger happy guy and played along. He told Jeff that a golden would be a great trophy. Jeff was slowly breaking down and said, "I would only consider taking one if it was exceptional." Herman told him he wouldn't let him shoot anything less than exceptional. And then like magic, there it was, 250 yards out in the veld, just waiting for Jeff. I grabbed my phone and started videoing, Jeff grabbed his rifle and set it up on the bags, and Herman gave him the go ahead. The shot was good and we all heard the whump of the bullet impact. The wildebeest ran across the open plain as Jeff slammed another round in the chamber and fired again, hitting it perfectly. As he was ramming another round home I told him not to bother, his golden wildebeest was going down. We watched the beast stop, waver a bit, and fall over. Of course the first words out of Jeff's mouth were, "Damn it Austin, you knew I was a weak person, you're killing me man, I should have never let you talk me into shooting this." We all had a good laugh as Jeff was now out another $3,000.
Jeff still wanted a nice warthog and I pulled Herman aside and begged him to let Jeff shoot a female on our last days. He agreed and took Jeff back to the same hot blind looking over a waterhole, but alas, no warthogs came in. While Jeff and Herman were hunting, Steve and I sat around the pool drinking cocktails, telling stories with the other two hunters in camp and I even took a dip in the pool. We all met for dinner and had a great time talking to the newcomers in camp about what they can expect. as usual, we had our nightcaps and went to bed.
Oct. 24, 2026
This would be our last day hunting and we spent most of it looking for a duiker for Steve. Hendrick, the owner told Herman that Steve could shoot a steenbok in place of the duiker included in his package. We actually ended up going out to the same farm I took my steenbok at, but at night. Apparently this is a more common way of hunting these elusive creatures as their eyes give them away while bedded in the long grass. We saw a lot and got close enough to one for Steve to take a shot. I had brought along my night scope with an IR light. I mounted it to a 2x2 via a picatinny rail and used it to film at night because it also took 4K video. Steve couldn't see anything but the glowing eyes of the little antelope and took the shot. Unfortunately, he hit it square in the face, killing it, but ripping off the entire bottom jaw. The taxidermy company said they will do their best with it. We all went back and had cocktails, told fish stories, and congratulated each other on a good hunt. We tipped our PH's, trackers, skinners, laundry ladies and maids, and said our goodbyes. Tomorrow we would be leaving for home.
In the morning I could tell everyone was sad to leave, but also glad to be going home and seeing our wives and loved ones. Gian drove us the 3-4 hours back to Joburg where Steve and I were already planning our next trip back. The flight home was uneventful and I think all of us got some well needed sleep on the way. It's basically a two day trip to get back home and I didn't walk in the door until late afternoon the next day, about 36 hours after leaving Africa.
By the way, just in case anyone reading this is wondering, Steve and I have already booked a dangerous game hunt for cape buffalo for September 2027. I picked up a .375 H&H and started working up hand loads for it almost as soon as I got back.
Our next adventure starts sixteen months from the time I am writing this. Jeff told me he will most likely not go back to Africa. I think he knows he will be close to 80 by then and his body can no longer take the abuse. In the meantime, I'm trying to talk my oldest son Mark into going along. He said he would consider it. I really hope he does go with us as it's been a long time since I've hunted with him. My son Kyle is now a father, and although I know he wants to go, he's also a great husband and doesn't want to leave his wife Kelsey alone with baby Kat for ten or more days. I'm doing my best trying to talk him into going as well. We'll see.
Climbing mountains in search of baboons.
One of chef Leon's famous appetizer's.
We can't forget about deserts !
For the life of me, I can't remember what this was, but it was awfully tasteful.
A night time pic of the fence that surrounds our compound.
It almost look like a fake picture. It's not.
This is where we had cocktails.
Our quarters.
