My hunt report, finally!
Hunter: Lou M. Observer: Carol M.
Dates: July 11 – July 20, 2010
Outfitter: Garry Kelly Safaris
Travel Arrangements: Steve Turner at Travel With Guns.
Gun Permit assistance: Henry at RiflePermits.com
PH: Cullen Kelly; Tracker: Patrick
Locations: Jones’ Game Reserve (Limpopo) and Mkhuze Game Reserve (KwaZulu-Natal)

Rifles: Left hand bolt actions in .375 H&H and .300 Weatherby. Scoped 1.5-5x and 2.5-10x respectively.
Other optics: Swarovski (8*30) and Nikon (16*50) binoculars.
Trophies taken: Greater Kudu, Warthog, Gemsbok, and 2 Impala
Trophies hunted, but not taken: Blue Wildebeest and Zebra.
Other activities: Bird watching and game viewing. Observed 72 species of birds, 27 species of mammals, and 4 species of reptiles. The quantity of new species of birds was overwhelming on this, my first, safari. Game viewing highlights were rhino, giraffe, and hippo.

Arrival evening: We arrived in Johannesburg in the early evening. The airport was pretty spiffy as the World Cup Final was that weekend. After a relatively pain free journey through immigration and baggage claim we were met in the greeting area almost simultaneously by Cullen (PH ) and Henry (Riflepermits.com). Rifle collection and inspection took no more than 5 minutes. An easy walk to the parking garage to load up the truck, meet Patrick our Zulu tracker, and we were off. It was about a three hour drive to Graham and Ananda Jones’ Game Reserve. We arrived around 9 and ate a late dinner of Kudu stew around the dying fire in the boma. It had certainly been a long day and while the mind was racing with the future possibilities, it was wonderful to slip under the warm blankets in our wonderfully appointed “tent,” and get some sleep.





Day 1: We had the best of intentions to get up for breakfast at 6, and be ready to go by 7. Normally this schedule would work fine for me, but we had flown halfway around the world the day before, and I still hadn’t unpacked all my gear. Add to that all the cool wildlife hanging out around our tent, led to our me not being ready until more like 8. We drove out under the beautiful blue sky to a lonely stretch of road, to set up a target and shot the rifles. Cullen seemed happy with the results. At home I would probably have fussed with the sights trying to move the bullet holes another ½” or so. Then we drove around looking, enjoying the scenery, and getting a feel for the layout of the place. I might have had a rifle with rounds in the magazine sitting in the rack, but we were so enjoying the drive that hunting was hardly on my mind. We got out and glassed here and there. Much of the morning was spent flipping through my South African bird field guide. We were frequently seeing zebra, impala, kudu, hartebeest, and wildebeest. We returned to camp around 12:30 for an English style breakfast, for lunch. Cullen didn’t allow us too much free time and we were back on the trail at 2:30.
It was more of the same in the afternoon and early evening. We did get out and make a stalk on a kudu bull we had spotted from the truck, but the “grey ghost” gave us the slip.
That night we had a formal sit down dinner in the boma, dining on grey duiker.
The World Cup Final was on the TV that night. We all retired to the Grahams’ comfortable living room to watch it. Carol and I couldn’t keep our eyes open and excused ourselves, after only about 15 minutes.




Day 2: Brr.
Carol “sat” out the morning hunt. It was quite chilly and she wanted to take advantage of the luxury of a snug bed. After all, this was a vacation, and her ## birthday. Cullen, Patrick, and I drove around, glassed, got out and walked around, and enjoyed a pressure free hunt.
In the afternoon I muffed an easy shot at a kudu bull standing just off of the side of a road. I just had a bad dose of “buck fever,” and felt like a dope, but in the end, it was just as well.
That night it was too cold to eat outside at the boma. We dined indoors, (the only night of the whole safari), in the Grahams’ “mess.” Our group was joined by a father, Ray, and son, John, team from Texas. They were hunting on a neighboring property. It was Carol’s birthday, and by prior arrangement the staff made a wonderful chocolate cake, from scratch. It might have been too cold to eat outside, but that didn’t stop us from a night cap or two, and conversation back around the nightly campfire in the boma. Ananda presented everyone with her “bush babies,” fleece covered hot water bottles, to tuck into bed with us. We refreshed them the next morning too, to hold in our laps.



Day 3: Kudu
Another beautiful crisp morning with frost on the grass, and frozen puddles. We checked on a warthog burrow but the boar wasn’t home. We made a stalk on another, which Cullen decided we’d pass on. A fortunate glance back towards a knoll we’d passed below, and there, visible at first only by the sun reflecting off of his horns, was a Kudu bull looking down on us. We drove around and up the back side of the knoll. Got out, leaving Carol in the truck and snuck over the top and down to where we thought he might be, if still in the neighborhood. Patrick and Cullen could ascertain that he snuck out below us and was moving off to our left. I was just along for the ride. Another 10 or 15 minutes of stalking and glassing and we could see him through a channel in the brush about 200 yards below us. I tried to set up for a shot as he walked slowly in and out of view, but decided I wasn’t going to risk another miss, or worse. We followed, eventually crossing the road we had driven up. Getting warm, we ditched our outer layers, and continued the chase. For the next hour or two we trekked up and down canyons, catching brief glimpses of the Kudu out ahead of us. We saw three bulls on the side of a slope across from us. They were not spooked, nor were they mature. So we took care not to spook them. It was very tough walking. There were bowling ball sized rocks scattered amongst the knee high grass, which made graceful movement difficult, on top of the steep terrain. I was in pretty good shape and was able to keep up with Cullen and Patrick despite the warm clothes, gear, and 10 lb. .375. We came over a rise and a Kudu bull was standing broadside on the opposite slope with half a dozen cows nearby. We dropped down, as it looked like the cows suspected something was up, though didn’t know where. Cullen and I belly crawled over the aforementioned terrain for about 100 yards. We stopped behind a bush and he set up the sticks low to the ground. The Kudu was a good 300 yards out there, but being very cooperative. We didn’t feel any rush as we were confident we hadn’t been spotted, although the cows’ heads were up and radar dish ears were on. I took a few minutes to catch my breath and center myself. Not only had I not shot at anything with this rifle at that range, I also didn’t want to mess up again. I inched into position. Told Cullen I was going to wait for a lull in the wind. He said hold at the top of his back as we weren’t certain about the range. The sticks and sights were steady when I squeezed off the shot. I had only read about hearing the thump of the impact after the report, but this was the first I had ever experienced it. That was cool. The Kudu leapt up and staggered forward. I thought it fell down, got up, obviously hard hit. Before I could have sent another shot on its way, it either fell again into some deep brush or had walked over the spine of the ridge he had been on. Both Cullen and Patrick didn’t seem concerned that we weren’t going to find a dead Kudu over there. We walked down another slope, crossing the dry gully, and up the other side to where we had seen the bull. Walking over the spine of the ridge we spread out when all of sudden the Kudu stood up on wobbly legs in front of me about 25 feet away. I threw up the rifle, but since I had had the scope cranked up to 5x, all I saw was grey. I looked up over the rifle, pointed it at the center of mass and fired. Like a felled tree the Kudu fell over with a crash. All of that took a fraction of a second. What a thrill. A great trophy and Cullen reminded me when it hadn’t occurred to me, this was my first African game I had taken. I was so proud, of the shot, of the hunting, of the physical exertion required, and what a magnificent beast.
As the saying goes, “the fun ends when you pull the trigger.” Fortunately I was the paying client, but still there was some work to do. Cullen remarked we were about as far from a road as you could get on this property. We drug the bull to a more open and flatter spot. They then left me with a radio and set off, not only for our truck, but some reinforcements from the camp. This left me alone with my thoughts and to admire the view, the wonderful beast, and also give thanks for this amazing opportunity. While I waited I started to back track the Kudu’s trail, finding a huge puddle of blood in the grass and a strong trail leading up to the spot where we had spooked him. He would have expired within another few minutes. I didn’t get a chance to do an autopsy myself but the impact looked to be low on his left shoulder. My shot from spitting distance was further back on his left side. There was an exit wound on his right shoulder but we couldn’t determine from which shot. About 20 or 30 minutes later I could hear the truck making its way up in the hills towards me. I had taken off my shirts and hung my t-shirt on a branch so I would be easier to spot. Cullen, Patrick, and Carol arrived and were able to park on an opposite ridge, still a few hundred yards off. While waiting for further help, Patrick and Cullen set to the field dressing and after considerable conversation we all decided we going to have to do some butchering on the spot or even with 6, 8, 10 people it was going to be a job to get the bull off the hill in one piece. Help, and another vehicle arrived, along with a couple of spectators who took the afternoon off. Myself, and two trackers took the rear end of the Kudu down and up to the Toyotas. On the way up it was "1, 2, 3, lift!" (Only it was in Zulu) One foot at a time, up the steep slope, over those grass covered loose rocks. Cullen and two other trackers brought up the heavier front half of the bull.
I will end this long tale with one other detail that could have ruined what has been the greatest hunting day of my life so far: Cullen asked me to take his camera back to the truck when I made a trip over there to put up my rifle and get some more water. I stuck it in my pocket. When I got to the other just as the others arrived, I couldn’t find his camera! I absolutely felt sick. I told the folks on my side of the canyon, and we all made our way slowly in a zig-zag fashion down back towards the Kudu, Cullen, and Patrick. As I walked through that terrain, I was thinking to myself there is no way I am going to find his camera, (which was in a small black case!), in all this stuff. What was I going to tell him? On the way up the other side, there in front of me was the camera hanging by its lanyard on a small branch, just as if I had put it there. It no doubt had snagged a part of the lanyard I had left hanging out of my pocket as I had walked passed. What a relief! Cullen had wondered what in the heck we were doing walking so slowly, and back and forth, across the slope.
Back at camp for a late lunch, Cullen asked what time I wanted to get going for the afternoon hunt. I told him, “we’re taking the afternoon off!” It was great to take off the boots, have a beer and walk over to the processing plant to admire my Kudu and the other game in the bone shed.
Delicious Impala schnitzel for dinner at the boma. A fantastic day. And, a good thing I found that camera!






Day 4: Blew Gnu 
While looking over the warthog burrow, we spotted some wildebeest dusting themselves a couple of hundred yards up the road. We stalked up the side of the road and nestled in behind a bush and I rested the rifle between two branches. We watched them switching places, head butting, rolling, but after about 15 minutes the one Cullen suggested I take was broadside and no other standing behind him. I had a good rest and the shot looked good. He spun and ran off to the right side of the road. The others ran around a bit but as we stood to approach they all took off in a group, including several we hadn’t seen that had been out of our field of view. I fully expected we’d find the gnu within a matter of yards but it was not to be. Patrick found a spot of blood after a few minutes. We began the next several hours tracking, finding only two more spots of blood each widely separated from the last. I was practically sick. Of course for not locating a wounded animal, but also for what this meant financially as I was already pushing the envelope on that front. Not only that, but Carol had waited patiently at the truck. Since we were silent and on full alert the entire time, we never thought to radio the truck to let her know what was up. A long and depressing walk back to the truck. This was a big disappointment after the high of the Kudu hunt the day before. Some day I will have to get back to Africa, if for no other reason than to exact my revenge.
Dinner was impala kabobs and warthog stirfry.

Day 5: Warthog and Gemsbok
After checking the warthog burrow, I wanted to start the day by getting some elevation and do some glassing for the herd of wildebeest. We gave it a try, but weren’t seeing anything. Our focus now was gemsbok. We, (I), had only caught glimpses to this point, but now we would concentrate our efforts on them. Late in the morning, we snuck up over the top of a knoll to glass down the other side. Something moved out ahead of us. We inched along as quietly as we could through the dry brush and loose boulders. PH and tracker said a cow kudu had moved out to our left, and possibly gemsbok to our right. The stalk continued. The brush had been burned at some time in the past. Cullen and Patrick tried to point out gemsbok to me, but with the predominant colors of the burn being black, silver, and gray I never could see the animal(s) to get a shot. Only when they moved upon their departure did I catch a glimpse. This was no doubt frustrating for Cullen, who had grown up spotting these creatures, but everything had a new look to me. The gemsbok had appeared nervous and on alert, but not totally spooked, so we thought we’d return to the truck and try to get ahead of them. While this was playing out, either Patrick or Cullen spotted a warthog below us. They looked him over, (I could not see it in the brush) and determined this might be a mature boar we should take advantage of. Patrick stayed high to keep the warthog in view, and direct us via hand signals. Cullen and I slowly picked our way down the slope a hundred yards or so. As the terrain leveled out, we stood on some boulders and finally I could see the boar as he stood in his hiding place. Again, it was a gray animal amongst a grayish background. From about 50 yards, balancing precariously on a boulder, aiming over the sticks, I took the shot just as he looked to be vacating the vicinity. Fortunately Cullen was right behind me because due to the recoil of the .375, and my unsteady position on the rock, I almost fell over backwards. He literally, “had my back.” The warthog didn’t move any further than I did, after the shot.
The old boar had numerous battle wounds in addition to the .375 holes on either side of his chest. (Later, at the processing center, Patrick produced my bullet! What caused the exit wound would remain a mystery. Bone fragments? A high speed plug of tissue pushed ahead by the slowing bullet?)
I attempted to help Cullen with the drag down to the nearest road, but was getting in the way more than helping. I contributed by breaking trail through the thick brush. Patrick backtracked up over the knoll to the truck and would meet us below on the flats.
My first up close look at a warthog confirmed what I knew from hunting conventions, museums, and magazines, that they are an “interesting” beast, with lots of character, to put things diplomatically. I would not have thought prior to the safari that collecting a “shooter” warthog would require this much time and effort.




After the lunch break we would continue in our quest for an oryx.
We renewed our hunt for the gemsbok, now determined to be a group of three, just south of where we had left off earlier in the day. Patrick and Cullen found their trail and we followed and followed and followed. The gemsbok were heading south-west across grassland with scattered trees so we always kept an eye on the territory ahead. It was turning into a gorgeous evening as the sun descended towards the horizon. I took several photos of the guys tracking. Other than spotting tracks where the oryx had crossed a road, my contributions were minimal. As dusk approached we were over a mile from the truck. Carol had been bugging Cullen for a chance to drive the 4x4, and this was it. After getting her on the radio, she got her opportunity to experience right-hand drive with manual transmission, and come pick us up. This was one of the highlights of the trip for her.
We reloaded the vehicle and set out on a scenic drive back to camp. We hadn’t gone more than ¼ of a mile when after a bend in the road, Patrick, Carol, and I saw the three gemsbok trot across the road and go behind a clump of trees, less than a hundred yards ahead of us. Patrick abruptly stopped and excited commotion ensued in the back of the HiLux as I tried to load my rifle and Carol told Cullen (who just happened to be looking in another direction) what was going on. Soon the gemsbok walked out from behind the trees heading to our left. Cullen confirmed that the first one had evidence of man-hood and gave me the green light. The gemsbok did a forward flip at the shot and didn’t move from the spot. Cheers of celebration and relief, combined with the backdrop of a beautiful sunset made for a memorable moment. The gemsbok was the #1 animal I wanted to collect on this trip. I just love their looks. Therefore, finally doing so on this last night at this camp was definitely a reason to celebrate once we got back to the boma. A dark chilly drive in the back of a pickup could have been misery under other circumstances, but for me, it was a little piece of heaven.






Day 6: Travel day.
We departed soon after breakfast for an all day drive south-east to Mkhuze Game Reserve. Carol and I enjoyed observing the similarities and differences between the passing scenery with that of our home in northern California. There were frequent stops due to road construction which really slowed us down. Cullen was anxious for us to get to our destination in the park before full dark.
We made a few scheduled stops for fuel, groceries, and lunch.
At dusk we arrived at the gate to the park, so the last few miles were in the dark. A rhino was spotted just off the road, and as we arrived in camp, lions could be heard roaring a few hundred yards away.
Our party was greeted by Garry Kelly himself, along with wife, Kate, and twin daughters.





Day 7: Impala 1
In the morning we explored the surroundings of our new camp. The tented camp was only slightly less opulent than the Graham’s property. Game drives here, on our side of the river, (hunting), and the other, (no hunting), were blessed with a multitude of animals at every turn. We saw duiker, nyala, wildebeest, zebra, impala, giraffe, and rhino. I was hoping for elephant, but that was not to be, although we did see fresh sign. There were of course lots of new birds for me. Cullen had purchased a new field guide as he knew of my interest. The field guide I had brought from the States, and Cullen’s, were getting a workout. Cullen knew his birds, but I always like to follow up after a sighting, or read up prior to spotting an anticipated species.
My wallet dictated this would be an impala only exercise here at Mkhuze. The wildebeest I messed up on took the zebra’s spot on the menu. The game viewing, warm weather, and new terrain, made for a most pleasurable visit. Our group was now joined by the required park game scout.
After getting out and walking a bit through a grove of acacia Cullen spotted a couple of rams. We watched them for a bit until the right one was clear of the others. I had the rifle rested through the crotch of a tree. The range was 100 yards or so. At the shot, I lost sight of the impala. Cullen said, “How the #@&* could you miss that?” I immediately started to doubt my shooting ability again and felt like garbage as we stood up. I said I didn’t know, as the shot had felt good, I had a good rest, etc. Then he said with a laugh, that the impala was dead before it hit the ground. We had been ribbing each other the course of the safari, and he got me good that time.
In the photo you can see the 270 grain, Hornady SP-RP, .375, bullet under the skin of his right side. The entry was on the point of his left shoulder as he was quartering towards us when I fired. Ironically, to me, the only two souvenir bullets I have from the safari were from the two smallest beasts I shot with the .375.



While on the walk out to the road to meet the truck Cullen came across a cobra. Neither he nor I are snake fans, but when he called to say what he saw I hustled over there! The cooperative cobra had its head raised about a foot off of the ground and its hood spread. Unfortunately, the camera was with Carol in the truck, and the cobra did not hang around long with me ogling it through the binocs at their closest focus distance.

Day 8: Impala2 and sightseeing day in the morning.
We spent the morning up north in the park portion of the game reserve game viewing and bird watching. We drove north into the park portion of the reserve and around Insumno Pan. There, the bird and animal life kept me plenty busy. Watching a group of pelicans stalk and corral a school of tilapia reminded me of watching, (on TV), wolves preying on caribou. Seeing hippos and crocodiles in the wild was a thrill. We spotted a monitor lizard alongside the road too. Carol got to be quite expert at not only spotting the darting duikers, but also identifying which species.
I was seeing impala rams that were considerably bigger than the one I had already collected. That, and not having shot the .300 Weatherby I had lugged over there, caused me to “pull the trigger” (pun intended) and ask Cullen to take us out in the afternoon on another impala hunt.
That afternoon and evening , in addition to looking for elephant, we found some very cooperative giraffes that were open to having their pictures taken. Cullen found us a nice impala ram, while we were distracted by the giraffes. A short stalk ensued and the ram was about 100 yards on the other side of a gully. I needed to thread the bullet through a bunch of brush. I hit the impala and he dropped where he stood. When we got up to it, the bullet had struck him through the neck, probably a foot from where I had aimed on his chest. I suspect, at some point in its flight, the 180 grain bullet must have been deflected, fortunately in a direction where it could still do its job. The ram was much taller and wider than the first.



Day 9: Beach day.
Perhaps Carol’s only request on this trip, is that we spend some time at the coast. We made the hour drive east to Sodwana Bay. Cullen drove us out on to the beach where we spent a glorious day swimming, walking up the largely deserted beach, soaking up some sun. We enjoyed a wonderful picnic lunch too. Wading out in to the surf one could see schools of fish in the swell ahead of you. The water was crystal clear, at least compared to the Pacific off Northern California.



Day 10: Last day
Someone else in camp was interested in collecting a zebra, so while we continued our game viewing, we kept an eye out for a nice stallion. After a few stalks, they were able to harvest their zebra. We still weren’t finding the elephant however. Consistently we were seeing rhino however. Our group headed up into the hills for some sight-seeing.
The last evening we gained some elevation in another direction and enjoyed a beautiful sunset that seemed to last forever. I wished the safari could have.

Post Script: Yes, we did bring home a vuvuzela for the kids. As was everyone else in the airport!

Really nice report! That second impala is real nice too, treasure it.

Thanks for sharing your story and pictures.

Thank you for taking the time to write up your story about hunting in RSA. It sounds like you had a wonderful time.

Nice report. Well done.

Enjoyed the report and pics. That's a really nice kudu, congratulations.

Slap my momma, what an impala!

Nice kudu too!

Lou,

Sounds like you and your wife had a great time in RSA. I would not have expected you to have anything but a first class safari with Garry kelly. Garry and his sons do a great job. I've hunted with Garry, Sean and Cullen for duikers through elphant. They are all very good and you couldn't have chosen more wisely.

You'll have to return to Mkhuze at some point for a nyala. Some of the best specimens in Africa are taken there. I think last year's average was 29.5".

Mark

Congratulations on a wonderful safari!

Congratulations and thanks for the reprort

VERY nice!

Lou,

You could not have picked a better outfit for you first safari. Our trip with them in 04 was fantastic. Cullen was in the learner stage then, but he was an important part of our trip.

Congratulations,

Keith

Great report, thanks for posting it.

Like those kudu pix!

great pics, love that kudu.
good to see Gary and sean are still doing their thing.

Excellent Report & Magnificent Gemsbok!

Very nice.