Joseph began to prepare me for a possible change of hunting location from the very first minute of our acquaintance. He did not like the West Coast very much and complained that he had already lost several tents there, hit by hurricane winds that often occurred in those mountains.
So, he received a fresh weather forecast, when we were on the halfway to the west coast which showed that a cyclone was approaching that part of the island. I did not want to believe in it at all, when sat on the shore of Lake Wanaka on a beautiful warm evening, after a successful tahr hunt. I insisted, explained how important it was to see another New Zealand, to hunt with an ocean view and all that…
He called diligently all the pilots and found an ace who agreed to drop us off, despite the deteriorating weather. It is impossible to get into the Alpine zone in the usual way there, the forests are impenetrable jungles, and small helicopters are used for dropping. A round-trip flight for two person costs about $ 500. It's normal.
We spent the fourth evening studying weather reports from different sites. The picture didn't gladden us: the fifth day was almost all rainy, the sixth was a storm, the seventh was partly cloudy and there was a 30% chance of precipitation. Such weather was fraught with zero visibility in the highlands. I had been in similar situation in Kamchatka, when it rained for a week without stopping, and I didn't want to waste precious days on it. But there was a chance that everything would work out, and we decided to fly.
Day #5.
It took us a couple of hours to get to the coast. Then, it started raining a hundred kilometers to the place where we were going. There was tension in the air. Nothing prevented us to return over the pass and continue to enjoy hunting in the mountains. At seven in the morning we met the pilot, he and the guide discussed something over the forecast map for a long time and then he gave us the command to load. The rain was drizzling unpleasantly, but the tops of the ridges were open. That was encouraging, and if the weather hadn't worsened, everything would have been just fine, because it was very comfortable to hunt in such conditions.
I was a little afraid of helicopters, but that one generally represented some kind of nightmare. I didn't know how it could fly at all, but the pilot spined around the mountain, and sat down on a flat platform twenty minutes later.
The rain had stopped by that moment, and we began to set up camp enthusiastically. Joseph bought a new comfortable tent on Cabelas site, somewhere 3-3-2, specially for the arrival of dear guests. Large camping tents are not used for expedition purposes usually, but that one seemed super-reliable: it had six aluminum arcs with a diameter of a centimeter and a half, stakes of half a meter, double canopy, additional extensions... So, we settled down with a comfort.
After finishing setting up the camp, we pursued our investigations., but were immediately driven back by the sudden heavy rain. It didn't upset anyone much – We all still felt tired after hunting for tahr and a long move. Therefore, we went to bed without hesitation.
After lunch, the rain subsided, and the mountains began to open up. We went to spot the surroundings. It turned out that the pilot landed us on a small plateau, the eastern part of which went down a stone cliff for seven hundred meters, and the western part represented an almost vertical wall to the pass exposed by rocky teeth.
Only the southern part of the ridge descended slightly, and passed to our place, and seemed accessible for climbing on foot. The northern part of the plateau gradually turned into a slope, and it was not visible where it ended. Visibility was striving to zero, a struggle began between low clouds and fog, which was striving to break through with updrafts from the valley. The picture was fascinating, so I did not fail to make video. The mountains finally opened an hour and a half before sunset, and we shifted to the northern edge of the plateau, from which the northeastern slopes of the ridge opened.
About ten minutes later, Joseph noticed something, judging by the intensity of his manipulations with the scope. I calculated the angle of the scope, estimated where he was looking, and soon I also saw several chamois. Six animals were clearly visible, they were grazing on grassy slopes approximately at our level. The rangefinder showed a distance of 1100 meters, and that was a good reason to try to finish the hunt on the first day. We began to approach.
It became clear soon that the convenient plateau turned into a steep slope, and the progress became very difficult. Tahr's grass turned out to be very slippery in a wet state, as well as thick moss, which covered flat slabs of gray slate. We all were sweat, when we came to the edge of a sharp cliff. The cliff was polished to a shine by the descending streams of water. A deep canyon went up, rimmed with terrible jagged boulders. That view resembled me the road to Mordor.
We tried to go around from below, but we saw that we had to climb. If we managed to get to the distance of the shot through the gorge, we definitely would not have time to return in daylight, and it would be the height of recklessness to return heavily loaded in such conditions at night. We studied the animals in detail in the scope, and the guide took a couple of pictures and described one of them by the words "nice trophy". I trusted him. The distance, we eventually reached, was a little more than five hundred meters.
We watched them until dusk, and when Garmin warned about 30 minutes before sunset, we gathered in the camp. Suddenly I noticed another chamois, when we had already started moving. It was just 250 away from us. But there was a rock between us and it would be unethical to shoot.
We had barely returned to our home when it began to rain again, and then a downpour, but we were no longer bothered by it. It was important that the beast was found and in sufficient quantity.
Day #6.
The wind raged all night, accompanied by a heavy downpour. Apparently, the forecast was honest. I didn't know how much precipitation fell during the night, but when I left the tent in the morning, I realized that I was standing ankle-deep in water, and that wonderful plateau where we set up the tent had practically turned into a lake. It was good that the tent was new and did not leak along the bottom. In the morning, after a hasty snack, we got ready to hunt.
The weather seemed to be getting better, and we decided to go quickly and check on our chamois, and then try to get to the ridge from the south side. Judging by the map, the southwestern part of the ridge was flattening out and could be perfectly for a high-altitude pasture.
We didn't find any animals in the morning, assumed that they were still sleeping, and set off in a southerly direction. My partner decided to stay in the camp wisely – he had no chamois in his plans.
It was hard to ascend. Probably, there was a different altitude dependence of oxygen partial pressure on the islands due to the proximity to the south pole, which was indirectly indicated by the tree-like vegetation, which did not rise above a thousand meters from sea level here. Gradients and uneven ground, intrusive long-leaved grass twining around the legs, wet stones added complexity to our climbing. The increasing rain did not add to optimism, but it did not stop Joseph and me. After some time we reached the pass and even managed to study the panoramas.
There were no animals, and the rain turned into a downpour. It was extremely undesirable to be under a torrential downpour even being completely in raincoats. A good membrane fabric kept precipitation, but water penetrated through zippers, even moisture-proof ones, flew down the sleeves and face. I learned it firmly on a fishing trip in Norway, where the guys and I once tested Sitka, Kuya and Cryptek after spending seven rainy days in the fjords. Therefore, we took shelter under a huge stone, but began to freeze soon – we could sit without moving for no more than a couple of hours. I also firmly learned that lesson when I was in Kamchatka.
The wind twisted with violent force, and showered us with jets of water, as if from a water hose. We decided to build something like a hut out of flat stones of local slate. It warmed us up a bit, but it didn't save us from the water. By lunchtime, we gave up and wandered back to the tent. We got completely soaked on the road. Sweat and rainwater trickled down our backs unpleasantly. The only thought warmed me that there was a set of dry clothes in the tent. The whole mountain turned into a waterfall, the view was amazing, but it was a pity to shoot it with a big camera, and a small cyber-shot failed from moisture and condensation.
The wind on the opposite side of the gorge had reached stunning speeds. I meant in a very direct sense. We had often to stop and wait until the gusts subsided a little, so as not to waste the remaining strength to fight them.
Joseph was walking about twenty meters ahead and was the first to see our camp. I immediately realized that something had happened by the loud screams that broke through the whistling wind. The tent was destroyed, the upper canopy was broken by a broken arc, the other two were also deformed.
Almaz lay on his back, and tried to feet held the arches to with his hands. They had lost their stiffness ribs, which the hurricane was trying to break. The water rose to a critical level and was about to break into our house. The guide and I rushed to set a backup tent, because it was necessary to cover the remaining dry things and, first of all, sleeping bags. Then we took cover in a broken tent to wait out the raging elements. It wasn't so difficult to hold the roof when we all were together and hot tea with chocolate lifted the mood.
It was necessary to think everything over carefully. It was clear that it made no sense to stay on the sinking ship, the gaping hole of the outer awning increased with each strong gust, and the second layer could no longer cope with the water, and the tent began to leak. In addition, there was a risk that the hurricane would eventually break the remaining arcs and cover us completely. But it was not possible to move to the small one in such conditions – the water that we would bring on ourselves would be enough to wet it, and then all our things would get wet and stop keeping warm. It remained to wait for the storm to subside and give us at some opportunity to clean up and change clothes outdoor.
We stayed there for three hours, but when the teeth started to chatter, we decided to move anyway. The algorithm was as follows: we carry things in water bags one at a time into the tent, then one at a time (there wasn't enough place for two) will inflate the mats, remove wet clothes completely, get dry, and only after that to get into the sleeping bag. It was incredibly, but everything worked out, and after half an hour we all were already lying dry and enjoying the warmth in our down sleeping bags. We even managed to cook some noodles and tea.
Everything was fine, until the moment when we needed to go outside "to the restroom". All the things were wet and were in hermetic bags, and it would be impossible to put all them on, and to soak the last thermal underwear in the rain! We chatted a little on that topic, and then slept. West Coast showed its character. It tore the tent with the wind, flooded everything with water jets, but it was warm and cozy in our burrow.
Day # 7
I woke up at 1 am, it was suspiciously quiet. I didn't believe my luck, and got quickly out into the air. The stars were shining serenely in the sky, the storm was over. At dawn, we discovered that the big tent had been irreparably damaged at night, and it looked like in a disaster movie. After a snack, we had to pull on wet clothes and go hunting.
The helicopter was supposed to pick us up by lunch, we kept in touch with the pilot via the iridium SMS messenger that Joseph had, our satellite phones Turaya and Inmarsat refused to work in New Zealand.
We went north in the hope to see the animals that we observed on the first day. And soon we detected them, it remained only to decide how to approach them. We started looking for a passage through the rocks on the edge of the cliff that stopped us on the first day.
We descended two hundred meters below, the last hundred we moved in alpine technique, clinging to strong vegetation, but in the end we reached a dead end. Joseph said he wasn't ready to die today, and we climbed up. It wasn't easy matter to climb the wall at an angle of 80 degrees , but we did it. I admitted that we could not get chamois.
We waited for a chopper. It was not dreary, the weather cleared up, and wonderful panoramas opened, the clothes dried up and did not cause discomfort. The helicopter was late, and we were sitting on our bags, basking in the sun, when suddenly I saw some movement in the rocks. A male chamois was moving right in front of us. It wasn't very big, but it was no longer important in my case. The distance was about 500 m, which could be quickly reduced to three hundred. The Lord of Hunting gave me the last chance. I began to prepare for the shot frantically, but then a helicopter began to hum treacherously from behind the mountain. My last chance for a shot at the New Zealand chamois was flying away with the helicopter approaching. As soon as the chopper landed, we started loading things. Joseph talked to the pilot about something and then shouted loudly to me that the pilot was not busy today and since he landed us on a plateau, which was cut off from the whole world and scared the beast away, he was ready to come back for us later in the evening. The way out of the situation with a sheer cliff was also suggested by the pilot.
- Are you ready? - asked he.
I didn't know if I was ready to go down into the gorge and then go out to the pass, but I nodded.
The chopper had already flown away for a long time, but the animals, affected by the noise, were still moving slowly higher into the rocks. It was still far to climb after them, but there were very few forces, all glycogen reserves were used up, those days we did not eat enough and the body was on the exhausted. We started to climb. The valley was heavily overgrown with strong bushes, the rocks were all covered in wet moss, the legs slid down that exhausted the body more. Suddenly, I remembered that there was a shot of energy somewhere in the backpack. I drank it and ate a bar.
It would begin to act in about twenty minutes, but it was still easier. We decided to bypass the animals on the left side and were not mistaken. Then, we saw the movement from above under the stones. Chamois were going up to the monstrous rock. The guide was already setting the scope, and I was choosing a position. There was a very large female on the slope, which I took for a male at first sight, but Joseph noticed my preparations, and warned me that it was a female. Suddenly, a male with good horns jumped out from the right, and the guide gave the go-ahead.
The distance was 285 m, 38% degrees up, I took the gun under the chest and smoothly pulled the trigger.
- Good shot!” - said my PH.
The chamois was hit in the heart or aorta, judging by the movements.
-It fell, - my partner continued without agitation.
I knew it. I tried to control my emotions a little bit, and then I spat and shouted loudly at all the mountains. Hard-won trophies always cause more emotions.
The day was ending, the limit of the time was almost over, it was time to go. We ran upstairs, made pictures quickly, and began to look for a helicopter pad. Apparently, it turned out that it was faster to go up than down. Joseph hoisted the goat on his neck and began to rise. Ah, youth! We climbed almost to the pass, stopped on a stone ledge four meters wide.
I couldn't figure out where the chopper would land there, when suddenly the engine hummed. The pilot was looking for us in the mid of a mountain and could not notice us in any way. At last, I started blinking at him with a flashlight and he noticed us. Then it hovered over the slope, and we sat into the chopper and flew away. The evacuation shocked me to the core.
Upon arrival in the village, we went to a local bar and ordered a portion of codfish.
