What a trip.
2 amazing days out in Gods own enjoying some choice scenery, good company and great hunting...well kind of.
We left the car park with about an hours daylight - my friend Jono and I knew the area well and were taking 2 friends with us. We stalked on the way in and glassed some good areas but didn't see any animals....or hear any roaring but there was plenty of sign and it's late April so we were still hopeful.
We ran into two angry trampers about 20 minutes shy of the hut who said they had been turned away from the hut....we decided to try our luck anyway....expecting to be met by angry pig hunters we were met by a couple fathers and their teenagers who were more than hospitable. There was a bed shortage but better than sleeping outside - although big Matty didn't enjoy the floor very much. However they did cook and gave us some of their bacon in the morning! Luxury! A highlight of the trip was crossing paths with these folk. They were interested in the rifles - so after triple checking they were unloaded showed them the ins and outs of our gear. We even let some of them pose for a photo with them.
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We set out mid morning heading for some clearings and streams we knew of and tried a couple new areas. Sign for africa but no animals yet.
3 of us steamed up to the tops and enjoyed a late lunch while Jono headed back from a bit of a nap as he was tramping with his wife the night before! -
It was mild and overcast but what a view from the top. There was a cool circle of tarns up there too. Photos definitely don't do it justice.
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We hunted creeks and bush for the rest of the day then after a quick cuppa back at the hut made our way out leaving with about an hour of daylight left.
Right on last light I spotted movement across a large stream we were crossing. "Bugger me it's a stag Dave" I had a peek through the scope and he was a big boy.
I'd guess about 180m but it's hard to pace over big rocks and even more difficult to gauge distance in low light.
He was facing us then he turned side on and looked away. 10-12 pointer, again hard to count in low light with not much time before taking a shot but great body mass.
I came down to my knee on the rocks and he looked at me again - following his front leg up with the cross-hair and checking ...BOOMPHAA. One 130g round into his chest - perhaps a bit far back but he stumbled and his front legs nearly buckled - good shot I thought but I fed another one up the spout just in case.
Before I could blink he jumped down a rocky bank and bolted, although not at a great rate of knots he was soon heading into bush - when he was definitely out of sight we moved in...adrenaline is quite something.
On the radio from the other boys I hear "possum, rabbit or deer?"
"deer" "Big one" I said
"righto we're coming over"
Dave and I looked at where we best thought we last saw him but found nothing. When the others joined us from the other side of the valley all 4 us of searched for a good amount of time finding his tracks but no stag. Not even blood.
We searched as best we could scanning the whole river bed and as much bush and mud for any sign but his tracks ended and we found nothing.
We made the call and left the spot - with work the next day it was sad to leave but what can you do?
From an ethical point of view I'm happy with taking the shot and am convinced he would have died soon after.
I'm gutted - my first stag and he got away, I still experienced some of the rush but it's incomplete.
Cheers to the boys for searching and for the company. Still a great trip out in the best country in the world.
All that aside, that's hunting and I'll be going back at it next week...
