Took the Mrs back to the 'fan'. We had hunted the grassed areas 2 years before getting caught out with the river and having to wait a few days until it dropped, so I was conscious of the forecast this time.
Walked in with enough gear for Africa, with tent and fly to allow to us to camp closer to the hunting area, 3 sleeping mats (2 for the Mrs), the fishing rod and my usual heap of cr*p!
Passed 2 mountain bikers on the way out, one a very attractive lady in lycra... hehe.
Met 2 older novice hunters at the river crossing who seemed to be a little bit clueless, as in a sh*tty scale tourist map and no torches on them. We directed them to the fan as far as we went before setting up camp in one of my spots.
The day was stinking hot and humid, so standing in the river was nice.
We didn't camp at the hut, after sour experiences there a few years ago and the general state of disrepair. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see the place and hut had been cleaned up, so thanks DOC!
The chest high long grass on all the grassed areas was indicative of the choppers and goat cullers working the area for the last few years. No pig sign also, meant very few Opotoki pig hunters being around, which can be a good thing, no offense to any reading this!
FYI, the Mrs' brother is a former Opotoki pig hunter and culler who built the very hut. A 'Storm'ing fella.
Anyway, knowing the 2 novice blokes had no torches on them and had to return earlier, the fan was ours to hunt that evening. So after setting a primo camp, off we set.
A few grizzles from the Mrs later we arrived at the base only to see a spiker feeding at 2/3 height up the hill. We decided to get closer, only for me to miss the shot. F@#$#$##@@#!!!!!
We hiked up to be double sure there was no blood trail only to spook a stag less than 100m up the hill who had been out of sight. Not keen on taking a running shot when knackered, I let it go.
Up to the area where the spiker had been, sure enough, no blood, only a well formed trail in the long grass showing where he had run. Shot must have gone just over him. Oops.
Back in the dark to camp for dinner (Butter chicken - hence the packs weighed a ton!) and to sleep in the humid tent. No early start the next day, as I tuned off the alarm and wanted a good sleep in!
Next day started off fine, before very heavy showers saw us give up trying to fish down stream of the hut and we headed back to camp intending to move back to the hut to dry out. However, we decided to hang in there and sure enough the rain eased off and the sun came out that arvo. On the way back to camp, I fully arsed it, face plant and all and knocked the rifle scope, also twisting my ankle (read later).
Plan was to head back to the fan to give it another go. Arriving at 7.30pm, we snuck up slowly (this time) to our look out spot and sure enough 15 min later a dozy yearling popped out on the right. Righto, I thought, easy shot at 130m odd.
'Boom!'
'Fark! Missed!'
Yearling runs down hill 15m looking around trying to figure what that was. Stops again.
'Boom!'
'Not again!, Double fark!'
Deer trots about wondering what the hell is going on, stops again.
'Boom!'
'Unbelievable, nothing but air again!'
Only one round left on me (left the rest at Whakatane), so I flag another shot in frustration as I don't know where the shots are going and watch as the deer finally heads off.
I turn to the Mrs to see if she had recorded that balls-up on camera, but luckily her and technology are not good mates. She hadn't even managed to push record! Phew!
Within 30 minutes, we spook or hear another 3 deer in the gloom, hidden by the fern patches, including a roaring young muppet on the other side of the fan.
Back to camp in rather a gloomy mood we then have another 3 deer barking at us or almost gate crashing the the camp site. Fantastic!
Next day we woke to rain, rain and more rain.
'F**k it, lets go!'
A quick check of a target at 100m saw the paper not even touched, hence the misses the evening before. Great, so the scope has been knocked.
And now my rolled ankle is the size of a softball.
A rather long and wet walk out saw us soaked to the bone, especially with my dodgy ankle saw me sit down again in the stream. Nice.
Arriving at the car, it was pelting down, so we shoved the packs in the back and drove off as we were, i.e. dripping wet.
At the last stream ford I hopped out to check the depth, it was just below my knee, so doable for the Outback as the Mrs drove it across.
To Whakatane KFC for the usual feed and to my Mum's place to dry out and for the Mrs to have a shower.
The car actually had puddles of water in the seats and boot, which took days to dry out. Oops.
So I have some unfinished business I need to resolve, namely zeroing rifle and some rather lucky deer. I'm taking the machete next time, as that grass is ridiculously long.
Dogmatix out.
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