Over the first four parts of this series, I picked a rifle, chose optics, assembled my support gear, and spent six days training at Blue Steel Ranch. That was the preparation. This is the test.
The Competition Dynamics Team Safari is a three-day hike-and-shoot team match for long-range rifle, semi-auto carbine, and pistol. It is held at JP’s Blue Steel Ranch in Logan, New Mexico, the same facility where I took my PR1 and PR2 courses. I knew the terrain. I knew the rim. What I did not know was how any of it would feel under match pressure with a scorecard attached.
My partner was Dave Castro, a former Navy SEAL and active PRS competitor. You may know his name from his years running the CrossFit Games. Dave is a far better precision rifle shooter than I am and has done a lot more of these field-style matches. I was the lucky one in this pairing. He might disagree.
This article covers the three days, the mistakes I made, the gear I am changing, and what I learned about myself as a competitor stepping into a discipline I have been building toward since Part 1.
If you have never shot a Competition Dynamics event, the format is different from a standard PRS or NRL match. Team Safari tests two-person teams on their ability to locate, range, and engage targets spread across natural terrain using bolt-action rifles and pistols. The skills involved include target recognition, ranging, wind reading, ballistic data management, marksmanship from non-standard positions, and basic navigation.
Each team has a primary shooter and a secondary shooter, and the roles are different. As the primary shooter, I had to engage six targets per stage with zero makeup shots. If I missed, that target was done. No second chance. Dave, as the secondary shooter, engaged three of the six targets but was allowed unlimited makeups. That asymmetry is by design. The secondary shooter can use their makeup shots to read wind and feed corrections back to the primary shooter before they take their one shot.
Having a secondary shooter who can quickly get on target and diagnose conditions is a serious advantage. Dave could miss, identify that the wind was 10 miles per hour instead of 8, and pass that correction to me before I burned my only shot. That communication loop is what makes this a team sport.
Stages come in two formats. A 2×3 gives you three targets from two different shooting positions. Position A might be 10 yards from position B, or it might be two feet. A 1×6 is one shooting position with six targets, which sounds simpler but means the targets can be spread across a huge field of view and you are scanning a lot of terrain to find them.
When the RO says go, you have six minutes. Everything is in your hands: tripod folded, rifle slung, gear packed. You set up, locate targets, range them, coordinate with your partner, and shoot. Six minutes sounds generous until you are standing there trying to find unpainted steel scattered across a canyon while the clock is running.
One more wrinkle: the team that shoots before you acts as your RO. They score your stage, then leave. You clean up, then RO the team behind you. It keeps the match moving without requiring a huge volunteer staff, and it means every team sees every stage from both sides.
I ran my JP MR-19 chambered in 6mm Creedmoor with the Vortex Razor HD Gen II 4.5-27×56, the same rifle and optic I have been building this series around. For the pistol stages, I ran an Atlas NYX.
Dave ran a JP LRI-20, also chambered in 6mm Creedmoor, with a Leupold optic and a Glock for pistol work. We intentionally matched calibers so Dave’s wind reads would translate directly to my rifle. Our muzzle velocities were within 100 feet per second of each other, which meant his corrections were close enough to be useful without conversion. Whether that actually gamed the system or not, I am not sure. But the logic was sound.
For gear, I carried a Voodoo backpack, smaller than what some teams ran, but it held my food, protein bars, target cards, and a Cole-TAC Ammo Novel that fit about 120-130 rounds. I had my Kestrel, a wee bag for rear support, my tripod, binoculars, and magazines. Dave ran a similar loadout. Neither of us felt like we had too much gear or not enough, which is the sweet spot for a hike-in match.
We stayed at JP’s main cabin at Blue Steel Ranch, a perk of the JP relationship. Being able to walk to the range instead of driving an hour each morning was a real quality-of-life advantage at a three-day match. We spent the evenings at the cabin with Brian Whalen, listening to stories from Brian and Dave about their military backgrounds. That alone was worth the trip.
Dave and I started at 7:00 AM as the second team out, with a staggered start behind Adam Burt, who was JP’s general manager at the time, and his partner. We set a hard walking pace, not running but steady, and caught Adam’s team right before they finished their first stage.
Here is the thing nobody warns you about in team matches: Dave and I had never trained together. Never shot together at a range. Our entire pre-match coordination was phone calls and text messages. The first time we had to actually communicate as a team under match pressure was stage one of the match.
We timed out on that first stage, a 2×3. Not because we could not shoot, but because we had not figured out how to talk to each other yet. Who calls targets? Who ranges? How do you describe a target location to someone who is looking through a different optic at a different angle? Those communication patterns do not exist until you build them, and we were building them live.
By stage two, we had learned from the mistakes and started clicking. We got all our targets, though I missed two. By stage three, Dave and I had a solid routine going, and we shot well for the rest of the day. We dropped a little over 20 points out of 75, finishing around 53 points. That put us competitive with some strong teams, and we were feeling good.
Then came the assault stage.
This is the most embarrassing thing that happened to me in three days of competition, and I am sharing it because it is exactly the kind of mistake a new precision rifle competitor makes.
The assault stage incorporated pistol and rifle. I had been shooting my pistol all year. This was supposed to be my chance to shine. I went one-for-one on targets with the Nyx. Felt great.
Then Dave picked up my rifle. Missed immediately. We swapped positions. He smoked the pistol targets. I got behind the rifle. Missed.
Every miss required a position change, burning time. We timed out.
The problem: I never changed my DOPE from 300 yards to 200 yards on the rifle between stages. The elevation was wrong. Every rifle shot was going over the target.
The entire day’s spectators were watching us shoot that stage. Dave, a significantly better shooter than me, looked bad because I handed him a rifle dialed to the wrong distance. I looked bad because I made the same mistake when I got behind it.
Make sure your DOPE is dialed in before you step to the line. Check it twice. It takes five seconds and saves you from a zeroed stage and the long walk back to the cabin knowing everyone saw it.
We went back to the cabin that night and debriefed. Pros and cons of the day, gear adjustments, what to fix. That is the competitor mindset: you process it, learn from it, and come back the next morning ready to execute.
Saturday. West Course. 10:30 AM start. Our shooting and communication were dialed in by this point. The teamwork improvements from day one carried over, and we started the day shooting well on the rim.
Then Dave’s rifle started blowing primers.
We spent a chunk of the day troubleshooting pressure issues with his JP LRI-20. Adjusting the gas system, changing dwell time, trying to get it sorted. Nothing worked consistently. We eventually turned the gas system off entirely and ran his semi-auto as a manual bolt gun, racking the charging handle after every shot.
That created two problems. First, it was slow. Every shot required a manual cycle, which ate into our six-minute stage time. Second, changing the dwell time affected his ballistic data. His DOPE shifted, and we had to figure out the new numbers on the fly while also trying to shoot a match.
It was frustrating. Coming off a strong day of long-range shooting on the North Course, the equipment issue deflated our momentum. Dave and I kept our composure on the outside. You do not want to show the field that you are rattled. But it was a grind.
The bright spot was assault stage two. We had to shoot from a truck, then advance to pistol and rifle positions. We finished with one penalty and the second-fastest overall time out of roughly 70 teams. That is what should have happened on assault stage one if I had not forgotten to check my DOPE.
We spent time at the range Saturday evening trying to fix Dave’s rifle. Never got it fully sorted. So we went to bed knowing Sunday would be another day of running it as a bolt gun.
Sunday morning. South Course. Our launch time was 8:15 AM.
The South Course is canyon shooting: targets tucked into washouts, wind channeling through terrain features, and we were shooting into the morning sun. This was probably the most technically demanding course of the three days, and it was also the windiest day of the match.
Despite all of that, we started on fire. The first two stages went well. Our communication was the best it had been all match. Three days of learning how each other shoots, talks, and moves had refined everything into a smooth process. We were not thinking about coordination anymore. It was automatic.
Dave took more shots on the windy stages, using his unlimited makeups to map the wind before I committed my single shot. That is the team format working exactly as designed. His corrections were accurate, and I could step up to my targets with confidence instead of guessing.
We had one stage that fell apart on us. Wide-angle field of view, targets spread far apart, heavy wind, and several targets were buried in the terrain: unpainted steel tucked into backgrounds that made them nearly invisible. We did not find all the targets. The team that RO’d us had to show us where they were after the stage. Every team we talked to agreed it was the hardest stage of the entire match.
We dropped about 20-something points on the South Course as well.
When the scores were tallied, Dave and I finished 17th overall. For my first precision rifle competition, and our first time ever shooting together, I am happy with that. Not satisfied. Happy.
Seventeenth means there were 16 teams that outperformed us. Some of them have been shooting together for years. Some of them did not hand their partner a rifle dialed to the wrong distance on an assault stage. Some of them did not lose half a day to equipment issues.
But 17th also means we beat a lot of experienced teams while figuring out our communication on the fly, dealing with a rifle that turned into a manual bolt gun, and learning the match format in real time. The shooting itself, when everything was working, was competitive. The mistakes were fixable. And I walked away knowing exactly what to work on.
I went into Team Safari thinking my gear was set. I came out with a list.
Wie bag material: I ran a canvas rear bag and learned I need something more durable. I want a bag that can handle rain, get thrown around, and not worry about it failing. The material matters more than I thought when you are hiking between stages and stuffing gear in and out of a pack all day.
Tripod head: Remember in Part 3 when I chose the leveling head over the ball head for my Vortex Radian tripod? On day two, I had a target at 100 yards down in the rim that required a steep angle I could not reach with the leveling head. I had to abandon my tripod and get on a different one. The ball head gives me the range of motion I need for steep up-and-down angles that terrain matches throw at you. I have already swapped it.
Communication protocol: This is not gear, but it is equipment in a different sense. Dave and I needed a pre-built system for calling targets, describing locations, and sequencing our shots. We built that system during the match, which cost us time. Next time, that is something we establish before day one.
The rifle, optic, and Kestrel all performed. The MR-19 in 6mm Creedmoor did what I needed it to do. The Razor tracked correctly and held up to three days of getting shoved into bags and barricades. The training from BSR translated directly to match conditions. The foundation was solid. The mistakes were mine, not the equipment’s.
I am hooked on terrain-style matches. The combination of hiking, problem-solving, and precision shooting under field conditions is exactly the kind of challenge I was looking for when I started this journey. I like moving. I like carrying my gear. I like that the physical element keeps me focused between stages instead of standing around.
I have signed up for 10 or 11 team matches for the coming season. I am switching to the secondary shooter role and building a new rifle for it: a 20-inch .223 on a JP PSC-21 platform with a Vortex Viper PST Gen II 5-25×50 on top, set up with a dual charging handle. The secondary shooter role lets me use unlimited makeups to read wind and feed corrections, which plays to where I am in my development.
Beyond Team Safari-style events, there is a whole world of terrain and field matches out there. Competition Dynamics runs several, including Steel Safari, their flagship individual hike-and-shoot match. The Mammoth Sniper Challenge, Vortex Team Sniper Challenge, and Tactical Games sniper challenges all offer similar formats. For individual competitors, NRL Hunter Series and Steel Safari are solo versions of the same concept: hike in, find your targets, range them, and shoot.
If this style of competition interests you, Team Safari is a solid entry point. The shooting demands real skill, but the hiking component is manageable. It will show you what gear works, what does not, and where your skills need development, all in a three-day crash course.
Five parts. One series. Here is what I would tell the version of myself who was sitting in his living room a year ago thinking about switching from 3-gun to precision rifle:
The gear matters, but the training matters more. I could have bought the best rifle and optics available and still been lost at Team Safari without the BSR courses. The classroom time I resisted on day one of PR1 was the reason I could speak the same language as experienced competitors at this match.
Take a class before your first match. I would have been completely overwhelmed at Team Safari without PR1 and PR2. Understanding your Kestrel, knowing how to true your data, and having reps on barricades with bags gave me a baseline that made the match a learning experience instead of a disaster.
Shoot with a partner before the match. Dave and I figured it out, but we lost time building our communication system live. Even one range day together would have smoothed out day one.
Check your DOPE before every stage. I am going to keep saying this until it stops hurting.
The community is as good as everyone says. The precision rifle community welcomed me the same way the 3-gun community did when I was new. The friendships from BSR, the camaraderie at Team Safari, the willingness of experienced shooters to help a new competitor figure things out: it is all real.
You do not have to leave your old discipline behind. Precision rifle has made me think about shooting differently. The positional skills, the wind reading, the patience, all of it feeds back into every other discipline I shoot. I have not quit 3-gun. I have added a dimension to my shooting that makes everything else better.
I started this series burned out and looking for something new. I am ending it with 10 matches on the calendar and a new rifle being built. That is the answer to whether precision rifle was worth the jump.
I will see you at the range.
Team Safari is a multi-day hike-and-shoot team match run by Competition Dynamics at Blue Steel Ranch in Logan, New Mexico. Two-person teams navigate natural terrain on foot, locating, ranging, and engaging targets with bolt-action rifles and pistols. The primary shooter engages six targets per stage with no makeup shots. The secondary shooter engages three targets with unlimited makeups, allowing them to read wind and feed corrections to the primary shooter. Stages are timed at six minutes, and teams carry all gear between stages.
The primary shooter engages more targets (six per stage) but gets zero makeup shots. One chance per target. The secondary shooter engages fewer targets (three per stage) but has unlimited makeups, which lets them diagnose wind and conditions before the primary shooter commits. The secondary role requires fast target acquisition and the ability to translate corrections to the primary shooter quickly.
At minimum: your rifle (slung on front), a compact backpack with food and ammunition (120-150 rounds), a Kestrel, a tripod, binoculars or a spotting scope, a rear support bag, spare magazines, and a pistol if the match requires one. Keep the pack as light as possible. You will carry everything between stages across uneven terrain. Test your gear setup before the match. If something does not fit or feels wrong during a hike, fix it before match day.
For team matches, Competition Dynamics events like Team Safari are a manageable entry point. The shooting demands skill but the hiking is moderate, and having a partner helps with the learning curve. For individual competitors, NRL Hunter Series and local PRS/NRL club matches offer lower-pressure environments to learn match procedures and test your gear. In all cases, formal training (like a PR1 course) before your first match makes a significant difference in your experience.
It is the difference between finishing stages cleanly and timing out. Teams need a system for calling target locations, sequencing who shoots when, communicating wind corrections, and managing position changes, all within a six-minute window. Establish these patterns during practice before the match. If you have not trained together, expect to lose time on early stages while you build that communication system live.
NRL Hunter is an individual-format field match where competitors hike to stages carrying all their gear, find and range their own targets, and engage from field positions. It is similar to Team Safari’s format but without a partner. Divisions include Factory (minimal modifications), Open Light, and Open Heavy. It is a strong option for shooters who prefer individual competition or do not have a regular team partner.
