My hunting mate from Auckland was down for a conference, and we thought we would capitalize on him being in my neck of the woods, and head into the hills for a hunt. We had been planning this for months, and as the trip approached I began to get more and more excited. He has hunted heaps in the Kaimai's, but never been into the Canterbury hills. This was only my 4th time out hunting, so I was feeling the pressure to provide a good opportunity to fill the freezer. The plan was to head up a river I had previously hunted unsuccessfully, but had seen a crapload of fresh deer sign. We we're going to head up and make camp, then basically sit and stake out clearings at dawn and dusk, and get them when they came for a drink. A bit boring maybe, but I think it had a good chance of success.
Nearing the end of the conference I get a call from my mate, and he sounds dreadful. Full blown man flu, he was a complete write off, even had to leave the conference early and get an earlier flight home. Gutted. I considered calling the trip off for all of about 3 seconds, then decided to go for it by myself.
My first solo hunt.
I was already packed, and had really earned the required brownie points to leave the kids with my wife for the weekend. I was going.
Though thinking about the reality of sitting in a shaded cold valley on my own for hours on end, wasn't actually that appealing. My real love is for the big open mountains, and I decided to try hunt the block up above the river instead of sitting cold and miserable. Even if I didnt get anything, I would be enjoying myself a hell of a lot more being up high. I studied the topo map, and satellite photos and it looked fairly straight forward, with reasonable access. I planned my route, and sat waiting impatiently for my wife to get home.
As soon as the conference finished, and my wife got home I was out the door and on the road. Access was only an hour and a half away, and I arrived on dusk at 5.30. The weather forecast was excellent, and I would be walking on farmland up until I made it into the block. I had good torches, and could stop and pitch my tent wherever I needed to. Also worst came to worst I could always head directly down to the river, and follow it back to my truck.
Unloading my gear I got everything sorted. But when I tried to put my bolt into the rifle, it would go most of the way then stop, jammed. I tried a few times really worrying I had some how done something when I last cleaned it. I looked with my torch, but the bore was clear. I didn't understand. Looking closer into the breach, there was a cotton pull through square stuck up the side! I had a good laugh at myself, removed the cotton, then pushed the bolt home. Ready.
On the maps I had seen a track halfway up the hill that led right up and into the block. The plan was to get to that track, then make my way up the farmland to a saddle where I would make camp. Only issue was the first 70m of vertical climb was through bush. Thick tangly bush. It took me nearly an hour to climb that first 70m, all in the pitch black that bush turns into at even the hint of sunset. I really hate supple Jack. I forget how many times I thought I was through it, only to get hooked up on my pack. I nearly fell 5-6 times, only just regaining my balance. Eventually made it through, and was greeted with the welcome sight of a deer fence. Climbing one of these with a heavy pack was no easy feat, especially after blowing so hard up through the bush (I passed my rifle through before I climbed).
Once on the track I began to wind my way upwards. I must have seen two dozen possums, would love to come back with a spotlight and clean some of them up. Also heard 4-5 big animals crashing away from me down through the bush, good sign, there was game here. The next couple of hours were pretty uneventful, just me detirmined to cover as much ground as possible, legs eating away at the hills. I was getting hungry, and wanted to get to camp. There was no moon, and the bagillion(real number) stars weren't enough to see by, so I was relying on my torch. Two and a half hours later I reached my planned campsite. I pitched my tent and settled in, putting on more layers now I had stopped walking. I fired up my cooker to boil water for my back country goodness. The flame burned bright as it should, but after about 30 seconds it worryingly started to dim. Shit. I forgot to replace my gas canister after last hunt! This was supposed to be a two night hunt, and I needed boiling water as my main meals were all back country. Was looking like I would have to cut my trip short by a day, as I now wouldn't have enough food to sustain me. The cooker had just enough juice to boil the water, but then went out. At least I would have a hot meal today, tomorrow I was down to whatever snacks I had packed. As I waited for the meal to cook, I sat back and was blown away by the amount of stars. I really must get away from town more often! I wolfed down my food, then settled in for the night in my new solo tent. Was pretty cosy, but had enough room for myself and all my gear in the vestibule. I had a pretty restless night, as I was constantly on the edge of being cold. Instead of getting up and putting on more layers, I tried to tough it out and stay as I was. Muppet, if I had just gotten up in the first place I would have been warm and comfy haha. Might be time for a new sleeping bag though!
My alarm went off at half 6, and I got up and got ready for the day ahead. I was just on the edge of the hunting block, and wanted to get up higher before it got too light. The wind was perfect, and I sat for a while glassing the slopes above as the sun rose. Was a stunning morning!
I got underway with an empty pack and a now loaded rifle, gaining hight as fast as possible. 40 minutes later I was standing on top of a knoll, when two Hinds ran over a ridge below me, I quickly lowered my profile and took my pack off, but by the time I stood up they were gone. I had missed my first opportunity to shoot a deer, but at the same time was stoked to see live animals! I sat and watched the clearing for 10 mins, just to see if they were sticking around. I decided to drop my pack and hike up to the next ridge, giving me better views of the surrounding country. My hope was that as the sun rose, the deer would make their way up and out of the bush, to feed in the morning sunshine. My hunch was right. As I slowly made my way towards the next ridge, a red Spiker came into view, not 60m below and ahead of me. My heart simultaneously stopped, and somehow beat faster at the same time. He was making his way slowly through a clearing feeding, and he had no idea I was there. The shot angle was not very good, so I patiently waited, crosshairs just behind his front legs, trying desperately to control my racing heart rate.
He made a small step uphill, and had to turn his body to do so. I squeezed the trigger, CRACK and he bolted, rapidly out of sight into the bush. Crap did I get him!?! I ran down to where I last saw him, and there he was, dead, resting against a tree. He had made it about 10m from where I shot him, a big wound in his side. Thankfully that tree was there, otherwise he would have fallen a fair way further down. I got him! I was pumped.
I sat there for 20 minutes in the sunshine, feeling truly blessed to be in that situation. It was such a privilege to be up in the mountains, in the complete stillness aside from birdsong. It was a really amazing experience to be able to sit and watch him through my scope, waiting for the right moment to shoot. I was on cloud nine, just buzzing.
Enough sitting around, I began to break him down. I had done this once before, with the watchful eye of a seasoned hunter directing and guiding me. It was a whole kettle of fish to be doing it by myself!
I started with the back straps, cutting them free and hanging them nearby to cool. Next minute from nowhere there seemed to be hundreds of loud buzzing blowflies! I have no idea where they came from, but they must have been able to smell the death? Who knows, but they were a pain in the ass, and really dampened the peacefull atmosphere! I was going to break the deer down and leave it to cool while I went and got my pack, but with the flies I had to pause (back straps in hand) and go retrieve my pack. I came back and laid out my meat bags/pillow cases (shhh don't tell my wife) and got back to work.
In gutting him I wished I had taken more time to inspect where I shot him, but I cut them free and they tumbled downhill in a big mess. At least I managed to remove them whole without puncturing them! There was a lot of blood in the cavity though, so wherever I hit him must have been pretty vital! Frustratingly by this stage my once sharp knife had turned into a spoon, and I'd took much longer than I would have with a still sharp knife. Must buy a small steel! I cut around the hind quarters, and popped the back legs free. I know some guys take everything, but I was looking at the prospect of a four-five hour return trip down some very steep terrain, and didn't want to push my already tired body. I thought about bringing the hind quarters down whole, but needed everything to fit inside my pack, so I boned them out and just packed the meat out. I was surprised by how much it weighed, and was not looking forward to adding the rest of my gear to it!
On my way back to my camp I was coming down the path, and was blowing hard after climbing a steep hill. Up ahead I saw something walking towards me and I stopped, I couldn't believe my luck! I dropped my pack and looked down my scope at a young Tahr(initially thought it was a chamois), less than 50m from me. He seemed to be walking a little oddly, and was going very slowly. I was not being quiet, and I was definitely upwind from me, I had no idea how he hadn't yet seen me.
He stopped and turned side on, seemingly egging me on to shoot him. I obliged....and missed. Guess I was still too shaky fron the previous climb. He jumped as the crack sounded, and spun to look at the exploded ground where the round hit. I can't believe I missed him!! I kept watching him as he walked another few metres and sat down in the grass, and seemed to stop moving. Did I hit him after all?? Sure enough by the time I got to him, he was dead. But there was no sign of a wound. None. Not a speck of blood. I checked him over pretty thoroughly, but couldn't find a trace. He was a beautiful wee guy, with a nice thick and amazingly soft coat. He seemed to be blind in one eye, and the other was partially white too. That would explain why he got so close without seeing me. I was in two minds. If I didn't shoot him, how did he die? He is obviously not well with the blindness, was he poisoned? I didn't want to risk it, so I said goodbye and carried on my merry way.
Another 500m or so and I was back at camp. I quickly broke everything down and packed it all away. Shouldering my pack was a lot harder than I expected, and I realised I still had a very long way to go to get back to the truck. I struck out, planning to retrace my steps down the farm track, back down through the bush (still hate supple jack) and to the truck. What I hadn't realised in the darkness though, was that there were in fact several tracks all roughly heading in the same direction. I followed one for about an hour always continuing down. I got to a low point on the hill and looked up. With dismay I saw the track I should have been on, about a km away, with a big patch of bush in between. Shit. My pack weighs a ton. I'm getting pretty fatigued, there is no way I can go up and over that bush and screw trying to go through it! Only one thing for it, was to head directly down through the bush below me. Eventually I had to come out at the river, which would lead back to the truck.
I set off fully expecting similar bush (and supple jack), but was pleasantly surprised to find a nice wide game trail, that made the way almost easy. That lasted a hundred metres or so, then I was back to bush bashing. I was really tired by this stage, and really wasn't taking much care to go around things. Following the path of least resistance, I forged my way down hill. I must have passed about 5 big pig wallows and rooting ground, but I was making so much noise they would have long since cleared off.
The ground started to level off, and in my tired state it took a while to realise. Either I'm getting near the river (though I can't hear it), or, yep a cliff. Bugger. Make my way around for a while, and the ground started to slope down again. It wasn't long before I heard that magical tinkle that is a river, and all of a sudden I was out of the bush and standing on the riverbank. Success! Not wanting to stop (really tired buy now, and just wanted to get the pack off) I headed down river, looking for the path back to the lodge and my truck.
Shit shit shit I forgot the hill back up to the lodge. That was torture, kicking me when I was down. My stamina is generally really good, and I pride myself on being able to just keep going, but that little hill almost did me in. I stopped and rested frequently. I was spent! It's a 3 minute walk down, it felt like it took me 45 mins up. But then I was up, then along, then down, then collapsing by my truck haha. I had made it, with a pack full of venison, and a full heart.
I will never forget my first solo hunt. It was bloody hard work, and I absolutely loved every minute of it! I'm counting down the days until I have earned enough brownie points to head into the hills once again!
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