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In the moment, in the Ruahines
I’d been hankering to get out for a walk. With a young son under 1, time is precious these days. I hadn’t been to the Ruahines since before the cyclone and every time I thought I might have a chance the weather cut up rough or some other unforeseen commitment got in the way.
I was starting to long for a walk, and the freezer was sorely lacking in venison. I was out in the garden tending to the multitude of tomato plants I’d neglected when my partner said the weather looked good over the hills so I should go hunting for the afternoon.
I didn’t need any encouragement but with my truck in the shop getting fixed I was left with the mrs little Suzuki Swift. Luckily for me I was sure I could get down to the catchment I wanted to look at and so I picked my way in on the gravel track to the carpark with my rather large dog crammed into the back boot.
I’ve been here plenty of times but almost all the visits were work related, in the daylight hours. This was to be an evening hunt and a bit of a reccy into a couple of spots I hadnt visited over the years.
I usually pack a wee telescopic rod for the downtime if I’m hunting near a river that allows for it. It slows me down, and gets me in the moment a bit as well. All good things when you’re feeling some pressure to perform with limited time.
The cyclone had really cleaned out the valley, and new slips were present everywhere I looked. All a part of the natural cycle, and pretty in their own way. Give it a year or two and they’ll be deer magnets.
The pools were the same. All changed, all new and one was holding a very good fish. As in double figure fish.
The trout darted back and forward scooping up nymphs and as I flicked the little veltic in front of it it took it hard.
It took no joy in its predicament and ran hard for the base of a car sized boulder at the tail of the pool. The line sang and the rod bent in a tortured arc as this silver freight train took me to the boulder and unhooked itself. It was worth it just to be in that moment with that fish.
I made it a couple of hours upstream and I was starting to see some cool country. Short little river terraces, slips, lots of good food and lots of sign. The first deer of the evening was spotted quite early, a lone animal moving fast having seen us on the valley bottom. As I climbed higher up the catchment it started to tighten up a bit so with a few backtracks with the wind I ended up sitting handy to a couple of the better slips I’d found for the last half an hour of daylight. I sat there chewing a muesli bar and all was right in the world.
I had barely raised my binos after my snack when I spotted a hind. Presumably with a fawn bedded somewhere cozy. I took a few seconds to watch her. I’m often guilty of acting too quickly when a deer is around and meat is needed but this time I decided to quietly watch her.
She was safe, but wanting a better look at a different slip I moved a few metres downstream, only to spy a yearling in the riverbed having just stepped out of cover.
Perfect. The yearling spotted the dog and took to her heels but a sharp whistle stopped her on the bush edge. Up went the pop gun and down went the deer with a shot behind the shoulder.
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Another good moment, with dog grinning at our success. I whipped off the back legs, the shoulders and the rest of the good stuff and hightailed it to the carpark in the dark.
Feeling good with 30 odd kg in my pack, I enjoyed the walk down in the dark night. Not a single star was out. Things look a little different in the dark and so I grid searched the area for the track for the better part of two hours before the dog cut our old scent and led us out to the car. Yet another cool moment, but arriving home at 1 am and hanging meat in the garage was best of all.
I’d hooked a good fish, shot a deer and enjoyed the time I had. The Ruahines can be pretty hard to beat.
