Phantom’s Promise

After Nearly 35 Years, Dream Buffalo Hunt Finally Comes Together 

By Andrew Mikek

Originally published in the 2024 July/August Issue of Safari Magazine.

We stayed on the tracks all morning. Dung piles got warmer as we found where the buffalo had bedded during the night. The tracking pace slowed to a crawl. I had seen this before — the boys felt that we were close.

This is a story of a rifle and a dream to hunt Cape buffalo. In 1989, I caught wind of Winchester reintroducing their pre-64 action for the Model 70. This was available only through their custom shop in super-grade trim. 

Even though it was way out of my budget, I ordered a .375 H&H. My wife called my purchase the Phantom, as a lot of money disappeared, and nothing ever showed up. It took a year to receive the rifle, with U.S. Repeating Arms Company, which made Winchester firearms at the time, going through bankruptcy. 

About the time I ordered the rifle, my wife became pregnant with our son, so my plans for a buffalo hunt with this gun took a back burner to fatherhood.

Finally, after 34 years, the Phantom was going to Africa for a buffalo hunt and my son, Jake, was going with me. 

We booked our trip with Bayly Sippel Safaris for an extended hunt on Blouberg Nature Reserve in the Limpopo Province of South Africa.

When we arrived, Dempsey Bayly collected us in Johannesburg and introduced us to two of his PHs, Alex and Tyler. Tyler would be our guide for the trip north. Dempsey and Alex would meet us at the reserve later that evening.

Riding with Tyler gave us time to hear more about the reserve’s history and its buffalo. The buffalo’s genetics are from the Addo group. We could expect mature, hard-bossed bulls in the 30- to 34-inch range. 

The herd on Blouberg was about 300-plus, all self-sustaining. The off-take was set at six bulls and six cows, all of which would help feed the local community. Other species were available to hunt, but we were there for buffalo.

Tyler was anxious to show us some of the 44,000-acre property. We picked up Paul, one of the reserve’s game rangers, and made a quick stop to test-fire the rifles. We proceeded through the thick bush into the surrounding mountains, where we left the vehicle and hiked our way up a game trail to sit and glass. It felt great to spot giraffes and impala, but we hoped to see some buffalo — even from afar. 

Tyler popped over the ridge with an hour of light left to check a draw behind us. Within minutes, he was back, whistling for us to follow him. Three bulls — about 120 meters adjacent to us — were starting down the slope towards the water. Paul and I sat tight while Tyler took Jake to circle down a few hundred meters to cut them off.  

I could now hear them and caught a glimpse of the bulls as they advanced to where I figured the boys were set up. Then Paul whispered to me that he could see the bulls, but he was pointing to where we originally saw them. This made no sense to me, so I moved to be next to him where I saw three more bulls, with the last being a shooter. They were following the other three bulls down to the water. 

I watched as all six bulls slowly filed past the last opening that I could see through. They must be on top of Tyler and Jake was all I could think of as minutes ticked by. I was waiting for the “boom” of Jake’s rifle. 

Then, as the light faded, there was a thunderous noise from below. It wasn’t Jake’s .458, but hooves on rocks and trees snapping as the last three bulls came barreling back uphill. When they were about even in elevation with Paul and me, they turned away from us and ran another 100 meters. 

Then, they stopped and looked back downhill at what had spooked them — Tyler and Jake. What a sight they were in my binoculars with the last light of our first evening in Africa. 

The boys had been busted early by the first few bulls and never saw the big guy in the back. Jake was on the sticks at close range, so it still was an exciting start for us. When we returned to the chalets, Dempsey and Alex were waiting for us with the fire going and sundowners ready.

The guides had us out early on our second day to check a few water holes. Tyler and Jake headed to the high country as Dempsey, Alex, Paul and I took a track and stayed on it for 9.8 kilometers, never catching up with the buffalo. These young PHs have satellite apps that track your movements with distance and elevation. I enjoyed hearing the data but did not want to focus on gadgets besides my rifle and binoculars. 

When we came back for lunch, we met Tyler and Jake. They were on a bull early and stayed on him all morning but could not get a setup. 

On the drive back that afternoon, Dempsey spotted a nice impala ram in a large herd. He thought it was good enough that we should try a stalk. Wanting to stay focused on buffalo, we had a quick discussion before I deferred to his judgment to give it a go. 

By then, the herd was moving away. We kept following and setting up the sticks. I would get on them, and Dempsey would say, “Do you see him?” but there was too much brush and impala everywhere, and I was having trouble spotting them.

We would move and repeat this a few times. It was the fourth setup that I finally saw a nice ram moving right to left into a small opening. I was on the sticks when Dempsey made a grunt to stop him, and I took the shot. 

He ended up being a very fine ram, just over 25 inches. While the buffalo genetics on the reserve run on the smaller side, the impala genetics are quite the opposite. 

We finished our day glassing up high but did not see any buffalo.

On the third morning, we cut fresh bull tracks at a waterhole. We followed them into the late morning and bumped them a few times but never actually saw them. 

After lunch, we returned to the tracks we had found but encountered herds of impala, giraffe and kudu instead. 

After letting them feed, we proceeded to follow the tracks. Eventually, we lost the trail where another herd of buffalo had crossed. This day proved that being among high densities of game makes African hunting unequaled.

By the fourth day, the regimen was getting familiar — pick up tracks at a waterhole and follow. 

Three hours into tracking, Dempsey spotted bulls bedded, but Paul was about 2 meters out in front of him and hadn’t yet seen them. 

Dempsey hissed at Paul to get his attention. The bulls either heard or saw us as they all jumped up from their beds. Dempsey said there was a hard-bossed bull, but there were three that I could see getting up behind a curtain of brush just 12 meters away. 

The bulls were up for about 3 seconds and then running. No shot, as I was uncertain which bull to aim at, and Paul was in my line of fire. The opportunity was lost, but the excitement was still high.

By Day 5, I was starting to get apprehensive. Dempsey knew this and kept telling me to trust the process. 

“We can make a hundred mistakes,” he said. “But the buffalo only have to make one.” 

We took to the trail of a couple of bulls and followed with high optimism. Unfortunately, the wind was all over the place, and the bulls were headed downwind. After many kilometers, they got our scent, and it was game over.

I’m sure the guys thought I needed a morale boost, so they brought in a surprise appetizer for dinner that night: Mopani worms! All I can say is, I ate one. Dempsey and Alex finished a plate of them like popcorn.

Day 6 was a repeat of getting into buffalo, as close as 10 to 12 meters, with no bull giving us an opportunity. There was a lot of tracking and walking, with moments of sheer excitement thrown in. Chalk up another great day in the bush.

The morning of the seventh day began like the rest. We had good signs of three bulls leaving a waterhole from the night before. We stayed on the tracks all morning. Dung piles got warmer after we found where they had bedded during the night. Dempsey and Paul slowed our tracking pace to a crawl. I had seen this before — they were feeling that we were close.  

My extra focus was now on making sure I was moving quietly yet staying tight to Dempsey. I spent an hour creeping along with sweaty palms as I moved the Phantom from hand to hand, concentrating on the bush ahead and my feet below. Then Paul, out in front, stopped and pointed. Dempsey stopped quickly, with me right behind him.  The scene became surreal as Dempsey scooted to Paul and motioned me forward. 

“There is your bull,” he said. 

What he pointed out to me looked like a piece of light-colored wood in a huge brush tangle. 

“Your only shot is the head,” he said in a whisper. 

I felt a bit panicked that I couldn’t discern the huge buffalo right in front of me, but I wasn’t going to send a bullet until I knew my target. 

My rifle was on the sticks, but I still couldn’t see him. The information Dempsey was feeding me led me back to the light-colored wood. It was only about 45 seconds into this, but it felt like 45 minutes. 

“Do you see the black curve of his horn there?” 

Finally, yes, I did see that! It curved around into that light-colored piece of wood — the boss! I was able to identify his head and eye. 

“Level with the eye,” Dempsey whispered. 

I squeezed the Phantom’s trigger and sent the 350-grain Barnes TSX.  

I lost sight of the bull as the shot rang out. Getting back on target out of recoil, I noticed there was a bull just to the left of where I had fired. I heard Dempsey tell me to put in another, but all I could see was the bull to the left. 

Quickly, he realized my confusion and directed me forward. 

“No, the one lying there,” he said as I moved a couple of paces before seeing it. 

I shot him again but saw no movement. The other two bulls quickly departed and then, there was silence. 

The next thing I knew, Dempsey and Paul were backslapping me. 

“Dagga boy down!” they shouted.

Thoughts of the years spent dreaming about this hunt and how hard this team had worked to get us to this point made it hard to speak for a bit as all the emotions overwhelmed me. 

I had walked 82 kilometers in a week of hunting and tracked many bulls, culminating with a beautiful old bull with hard bosses and great colors from all the rubbing. At just under 34 inches, he was no monster, but that did not matter to me the least. What we buy on a safari are the memories we take home with us. My recollections of this hunt outsize any horn measurements.

Dempsey called Alex and Jake to join us. Then, a long photo session began, with a couple of pictures sent back to my wife, as nothing is real until I share it with her.

By the 10th day, my son Jake was still chasing buffalo. Due to other commitments, we had to say so long to Tyler and Alex. Jake’s new PH, Nic, made me smile when he put his 1950s-era .375 beside the Phantom and Jake’s .458. How could we go wrong with three generations of model 70s? 

Nic knew of a mud wallow where he saw some traffic that afternoon, so we decided to set an ambush. Paul and I stayed with the truck about half a kilometer away. 
Within minutes of waiting, we heard three quick shots. Arriving at the scene, Jake and Nic were all but dancing around a beautiful bull. Jake had nailed it well with two .480-grain Woodleigh softs and one solid. We were late getting back to camp after getting the bull out, but Dempsey held dinner and the celebration for us.

Nic and Jake went out on our last afternoon to see what they might find. Right before sunset, they caught some kudu moving through an open lane and Jake scored a nice old broken-horned bull. What a great end to our stay!

Blouberg is a beautiful, wild place and it was the perfect setting to make memories with my son and the Phantom. We couldn’t have asked for better guides than the passionate young men from Bayly Sippel Safaris.

Andrew Mikek is an SCI member who lives in Idaho.