Thread: The Long Weekend - Fallow Two.

Monday dawned with less painful muscles than expected after the prior day's deer, so after a slow start and a bit of family time, the call came in after lunch and I pulled my gear together once more.

This time the low end of the station was free so we made our way there, keen to check out a couple of spots we knew. The others dropped me off and with a rendezvous time set they headed away up the ridge track on the quad, hoping for an easy one close to the bike but ultimately ending with a gruelling uphill carry to rival our efforts from the day before.

My plans lay in a different direction. I headed up a narrow valley; very steep sides with thick tangles of scrub breaking through to some clear bands of grass, tussock, and low matagouri. Several slippery rocky knobs and narrow ledges on the way in quickly brought me to the realisation that this wasn’t the best path for me to return with an animal on my back, at least not today. In the middle of the valley was a narrow rocky creekbed covered by trees and yet untravelled or seen by me. This began to form in my mind as my probable exit route.

After a short time of pathfinding around the steep sides I approached a ridge that I knew would offer a view over the next basin. Reaching a small level rock garden slightly over the crest, I eased myself to the ground and sighted a deer before I could even lift my binoculars. Around 200 metres away in a second basin a dark fallow lay at a 3/4 angle away from me, seemingly having a mid-afternoon snooze. At a quick glance it gave the impression of being an oldish doe, but the position of the ears obscured any spikes there may have been. I knew I wanted to get closer anyway as a spiker was my preference and the rest of the basin the deer lay in was still obscured, hopefully containing more of its kind. I went into stalk mode and carefully worked my way around the side of the first basin, in sight of the deer for the majority of the time. Luckily it remained oblivious and showed few signs of alertness other than the occasional ear flick and a single sleepy glance down into the creek away from me.

Reaching the lip of the basin less than 60 metres from the deer and lifting the binoculars once more I discovered I had made two false assumptions. The first that it was likely to have company, as the basin was otherwise empty, and the second that it was a doe. My new angle revealed the small spikes atop its head which had me quietly setting up the shooting sticks and finding an angle through the tussock. Once again I settled the crosshair on the middle of the neck and released a shot. He crumpled and rolled over on the spot, no longer concerned by our daily pressures.


Not a spaniard in sight. Bliss.

A short walk and a bit of knifework later I'd constructed myself a brand new backpack, ready for the next episode of 'how daft can ya be'. I'd already set my mind on using the creek to return if I found luck, so put the weight on and zig-zagged down the grassy face until my boots started getting wet. The creek was no more than 3 metres wide, but mostly passable, if a little challenging at times. Many small boulders and rock pools ranging from ankle to waist-deep under low-hanging branches kept me wondering if this weekend might be payback for all of the 'easy' deer I'd taken on the place before. The greatest challenge to my passage came midway down the creek where the sides had climbed higher than I could. Over the years the creek had a carved a waterfall around one side of a giant boulder. A 3 metre 2-part drop onto slick rocks, with a shallow pool midway down. On the other side of the boulder was a dry but vertical drop which after some careful inspection and a bit of second-guessing I chose as my path. I shrugged the deer off and rolled it down the falls, then clambered down the dry line, with a bit of careful testing of hand and foot-holds. Happy to reach the bottom, I took a step towards the deer and promptly slipped sideways into the pool up to my waist. Refreshing.

With the venison-baby back on board I continued my way down the creek, finding more tricky spots, but none as intimidating as the drop. Eventually I reached the mouth of the valley with the accompanying track-end and struggled my way out of the creek to dump the deer beside it. A quick dunk in the creek later (this time deliberate!) and I sprawled out next to my kill, satisfied (and exhausted) with my efforts for the day.



Lotsa words.. sorry

Part one.

Well written, cheers.