Working up a .50 BMG load for top accuracy requires the same amount of time and care that is necessary to produce ammo for a standard benchrest rifle. John, in effect, remanufactures his brass cases, putting each one of them through 13 steps to ensure their uniformity. And the .50 BMG can be as fussy about components as any other cartridge. As little as half a grain of powder (in a total charge of 230 grains) can make the difference between a group and an assembly.

Then there is the human element. As with any kind of long-range shooting, wind and exact distance are crucial. If you don't know how far it is to the target, you're sunk. On an African hunt, John had 27 misses at 1,000-plus yards and no hits. The laser rangefinder he and Wendy were using would not reflect off an animal at those extreme distances.

The only absolutely reliable rangefinder for these kinds of yardages is the Swiss ¿¿Army-"surplus optical coincidence rangefinder that was designed for artillery use. It gives accurate readings out to 20,000 meters. Wind is an extreme problem. "At 600 yards," says Wendy, "your bullet can be blown off the target by inches. At 1,000 yards or more, it's a matter of feet. There are tables for wind drift, but really the only way to learn how to dope it is to study the wind. You watch the grass and the trees, and after a while you get a feel for it."

Before I met John and Wendy, there was no doubt in my mind that hunting at 800 yards and way, way over was not hunting, but simply using animals for targets, or something worse. I no longer believe this.

As practiced by John and Wendy, hunting is a three-person operation. One person gets the range and spots. One person does the necessary calculations. One person shoots. No animal is shot at until it is in the clear-"nothing within 15 meters on either side and nothing at all in front or rear. They don't shoot on land that is not access-controlled to eliminate any danger of someone wandering into the impact area. And even so, at all times all three partners look for things that don't belong.

What does a .50-caliber impact do to a game animal? At close range, the results are horrific. But at long range, Wendy says, "They go rigid when the bullet hits, and then they simply drop. We've never lost an animal and we've never had to track one."

John let me shoot his heavy match rifle, a Kenny ¿¿Johnson-"made single-shot bolt action that weighs 50 pounds and has a huge clamshell-style muzzle brake. I wore shooting glasses, ear¿¿plugs, and earmuffs. The gun had virtually no perceptible recoil. But what it did have was gas. A .30/06 produces about 50 grains of propellant gas when you pull the trigger. The .50 BMG cooks up 245 grains. When it hits the muzzle brake, it comes straight back at you, and you are whapped in the face, hard. It's like sticking your head out of an alley into a 300-mph wind.

There can be mishaps as well. Some years ago, John was hunting elk on a day when the thermometer registered 10 below zero. This was a cows-only hunt, and he found a monster lady elk at over 1,000 yards. But he had to shoot that same LAR Grizzly from an unsteady rest, and the scope whacked him so hard that his right eyebrow fell down over his eye. The shot missed, and so he held his detached eyebrow in place with his hand and got back on the gun. Once again the shot missed, and the scope smote him in precisely the same place. To make matters worse, the elk moved, and John had to wait, his cheek on the steel stock, forehead gushing, until he got a third shot. This one was good, but by now his cheek had frozen to the rifle. You can still see the stain on the steel where he had to tear himself away.