What makes a modern city dweller go hunting? And mountain hunting in particular? What are the reasons that, sacrificing often a joint vacation with your family somewhere under a palm tree, to go / fly to other regions / countries to meet the mountains? Why, drenched in sweat, step up with every step feeling the accumulating fatigue? Walk and count to yourself: "Twenty-five, twenty-six ...", agreeing with myself: "I will take a hundred steps and take a break."
Legs tremble treacherously, boots slide on the frozen grass under the snow. You can only hear the jolts of blood in your ears and the creak of snow in time with the steps: "crunch, crunch, crunch" ... The backpack pulls down with each vertical meter more and more, the carabiner digs into the shoulder with a three-point belt. Why get up before dawn and go out into the icy dark, slightly tinted by the rays of the rising sun? Going back to a cold tent after sunset and eating Snickers throughout the day? Why physically mock your body, which already does not feel very well in the highlands?
It is difficult for a person who is far from mountain hunting to understand the reasons and motivational component of these actions, but a real mountain Hunter does not need any explanations.
For the fourth time
I went to Dagestan for the fourth time. I really like this Caucasian republic, the open and dignified people who inhabit it, the delicious national cuisine and of course the magnificent nature! The purpose of all my trips was the same - the trophy of the Dagestan tour. And not to say that previous trips were unsuccessful. Everything was there: great company, real mountain hunting, and the pleasure of traveling. But I was not lucky with a good trophy - I could not get what I wanted. Moreover, every trip I closed the license on the last day with a young tour "for meat". My companions got good trophies, and every time I was looking for Him - a big old male. And instead of closing the question with the ten-year-old male of the Dagestan tur for a long time, I searched and chose. I dreamed about big things.
This year it was decided to go to the already well-known organizer of hunting in the Akhtyn region of Dagestan - Elson Makhmudov. I really wanted to go with my life partner Asya, with whom we successfully visited Gorny Altai in October. But two weeks before departure, she injured her back while playing sports. A trip was out of the question: she could barely move across the plain. I invited my good friend Dmitry to hunt. He turned out to be very light on his feet and a week before the departure date he easily agreed to a joint trip. Due to the worsening epidemiological situation with COVID-19, Dmitry offered to go by car, thereby excluding contacts with society at airports. At first, this idea seemed to me, to put it mildly, strange - 3000 km in one direction. But, the more I thought about the prospect of a car trip, the more I liked it.
At the appointed time, the two of us moved towards the North Caucasus from St. Petersburg. We flew to Makhachkala in one breath. The average speed was 95 km / h. We drove mainly in paid sections. In general, the road is good, but in Kalmykia, in the Elista region, for some reason in the steppe, they made countless dangerous turns. Why in the steppe, where there is no need to go around mountains, rivers and lakes, have they designed such a curved road ?! The cameras in Kalmykia, by the way, are unmarked.
In Dagestan we went to a local restaurant of national cuisine, saw the Caspian Sea, spent the night in Makhachkala, and in the morning we met Elson and drove to the village of Khnov in two cars. In the evening, upon arrival, they checked the weapon - I hit exactly in the top ten at 200 meters (a carbine was shot at this distance). In the village, the height above sea level is 1700 meters.
In the morning we set out on horseback into the mountains. In addition to Dmitry and me, Elson and two guides were in the company: Zaur and Ramazan. We drove five kilometers along a picturesque mountain road, and then 7 kilometers up the mountains. We reached the base camp, which was a frame insulated house, at 12.30. Height above sea level - 2800 meters. Have a snack. Elson offered to stay in the camp that day and enjoy nature, while he and Ramadan would go on exploration. I decided to go with them, since I had no strength to sit in the camp. I really wanted to see the area and, possibly, the object of the hunt.
Attempt number "times"
We began to climb the ridges, carefully observing the opening slopes. Literally, an hour later we saw the first herd of rounds of 40 heads in trusts meters. Among them there was one male larger than the rest. Elson offered to shoot.
- Elson, I will immediately outline the goal and task. I need a big trophy. I won't shoot small and medium-sized ones, I'd rather leave without a trophy. Sorry for being straightforward.
Let's go further up. After a short climb, on the opposite side of the newly opened circus, we saw a herd of one hundred heads! The distance was 2.5 kilometers, but even at this distance with ten-fold binoculars it was clear that the two rounds in the herd favorably differ in the size of the horns.
- Will we have time to approach them today before dark?
- Anton, let's do this: you will look at these tours carefully through a telescopic sight, and if the size of the trophy suits you, we will try to make it today. If not, let’s come up tomorrow, ”Elson took away.
I unfolded the carbine, set the maximum magnification on the optics and lay down on the frozen ground to observe. For myself, before the trip, I clearly outlined the criteria for the minimum trophy at which I will shoot: the horns make an almost full circle and both horns twist upwards. The two visible rounds in this herd had just such horns.
- Let's go!
- We should be in time in two hours, - Elson nodded.
We went quickly, because the day has long passed the middle, and it gets dark at 17.00. Time was running out.
The path lay up all the time. Under the soles of the boots, the snow crunched, then the autumn dead grass was crumpled, then the "powder" rustled, meanly rolling down. On the next rather steep ascent along the powder, I felt that I was really tired. I sat down to rest and remembered that there were Snickers in my pocket. We ate one bar at a time, and the strength returned again! Fast carbs are a great source of energy in the mountains!
The last few hundred meters were running on bent legs, because it was impossible to pass part of the path secretly (out of sight of the animals). I looked at the altimeter - 3700. It turns out that today it has risen by 2000 vertical meters. We approached an unsuspecting herd lying on the slope from above. The only place from which you could creep closer was a piece of rock near the ridge. I started slowly approaching it and then I saw that two very good old tours had come out onto the ridge on which we were standing. They probably saw us, but despite this, they calmly grazed on the very ridge. Next to me was an excellent flat area. I put the carbine on the bipod, lay down and looked at the animals better. Both had wonderful horns! The distance is 608 meters, the angle is practically zero. For my level of shooting training, a working distance is quite reasonable. You could shoot like on a shooting range. But a man is always looking for the best, and I decided to look at those two rounds that were in the herd. I looked out from behind the rolling pin. The rangefinder shows the distance to the nearest large one - 386 meters. But the angle! I don't like shooting down at a steep angle. For some reason, it does not go with me - it has already hurtfully missed several times.
- What do you think: which tours are more - the ones on the ridge or below? - asked the guides.
- Both those and these are good. It is necessary to determine and shoot, in 15 minutes it will be dark, - answered Elson.
I don’t remember what thoughts rushed through my head at that moment. He began to arrange a carbine to shoot at the lower ones. The bipods even in an almost horizontal position interfered. He removed the bipod, put the carabiner right on the rock. And he knew that this would have a negative effect on shooting - a completely different "jump" and so on! I saw perfectly well that the carbine was "overwhelmed" to the side, but there was no other way to put it down. I aimed at the big round - it was much darker than the others and at dusk it seemed completely black. Once again I made sure that his horns meet my criteria - the ends are brought together and bent up, and pulled the trigger.
The result of such careless shooting was not long in coming - all the tours ran down the slope. Ramadan said the bullet came higher. I did not see her hit - it was a very uncomfortable position when shooting, and the "picture went away" at the moment of the shot.
Of course he was upset. Even more. Such a ridiculous distance for me, and such an insulting mistake. It is my own fault - how I prepared (put out the rifle), I got such a result. What influenced? Maybe fatigue, maybe a certain haste ... Now I understand that I should have fired at the two who stood on the ridge. Despite the distance, it was much easier to shoot them. Eh! What did you think ?!
By the way, Ramadan and Elson, seeing my condition, began to encourage:
- Nonsense, it happens, tomorrow we will find others. It's just the first day!
Thank them for that. It was uncomfortable for me in front of them: so much effort was spent on this rapid ascent, and at the last moment I let me down.
We went down to the camp. Almost all the way back we walked in the dark. And in the camp we had a wonderful dinner - Zaur made an excellent soup!
Attempt # 2
In the morning they got up and after dark they all moved up the already familiar route. Only after climbing the ridge did they begin to notice small groups of tours on opposite slopes. The organizers offered to try to approach the shot, but I refused - there were no worthy specimens.
We reached the herd with a tour, which I refused to shoot yesterday. Dmitry looked at it through binoculars and expressed a desire to get it. Zaur found a good, level spot for the shot. The tours were downhill at a distance of 250 meters. The three of us crawled to the edge of the ridge. I installed the carbine, adjusted the bipod so that there was no blockage, rebuilt the parallax, and placed the rifle comfortably. Dmitry lay down, took aim and pulled the trigger.
Tour jerked and ran. I advised to add. But the second shot missed the mark. After 30 meters of running, the tour stopped and fell on its side. We congratulated Dmitry on his first mountain trophy!
Ramazan and Dmitry stayed behind to make a photo session and cut the trophy, while Zaur, Elson and I continued on our way.
We climbed the crest of the circus where I was shooting yesterday. Almost in the same place as last evening, there was a fairly large herd of rounds of 150 heads. Among them were those two old men.
We began to climb up the route already familiar from the previous day.
When there was a little less than a kilometer left before the tours, it became clear that it would be difficult to approach the herd unnoticed, like yesterday. There were many of them, and the herd occupied almost the entire slope - from top to bottom. 150 pairs of eyes followed the surroundings.
The part of the path, where there was no opportunity to hide behind the relief, we overcame by running on his haunches. No matter how funny and strange it may sound. We got to the ridge from which we fired yesterday. On the opposite side of the ridge, to the bottom left, almost in the valley, there were two huge old tours. They were just two of them, and now they grazed, then they lay down in the snow.
- Can we approach them? I asked.
- Definitely not. North slope. You shouldn't even try without cats. If you go along the crust, you will stop there, below, by the river. In the spring we can pick you up from there.
I carefully examined the slope, at the bottom of which stood these two beautiful stag beetles: the snow covered it all, the wind filled a thick layer of crust, the angle of inclination along the entire length was very steep. But these two beauties just beckoned!
We sat in the snow and thought: how to approach the herd? It was impossible to go out to the right side of the slope - they would have noticed us right away, it was impossible along the ridge for the same reason. The left side was steep, covered with a meter thick layer of bright white snow. At the same time, Elson and Zaur said that there are many stones under the snow, which are now all in ice, and it is dangerous to walk on them. How I regretted not taking the cat with me!
There was only one possible option - and I insisted on it - to go along the left northern slope. The host side was against it - they feared for my safety. The guys had sticks with them with hooks at the end, with which they deftly clung to the slope when moving, and the guys did not believe in my carbon sticks. I managed to convince them that I can handle it.
We began a careful approach down the slope. Zaur always walked below me - he insured me in case I was carried down. I managed to walk about 100 meters with my back straight, then I had to sit in the snow and move literally at the fifth point. Elson crawled first, then I, Zaur closed in. We were pushing a huge snowdrift in front of us, the guys' clothes got wet right there. This half-crawl had to move about 200 meters.
When we carefully looked out from behind the ridge, it was 250 meters to the nearest tours. Elson offered to shoot a good male in the close group. I refused - further and higher the tour lay much more than the proposed one.
- What should I do with you? - Elson said with a sigh.
We continued driving in the snowdrifts. After another 50 meters of floundering in the snow, it became clear that it was not possible to crawl closer unnoticed - the tours would "draw" us.
I began to carefully study the herd through binoculars. The upper big one, lying on the slope, was covered by the folds of the terrain. Shooting is completely inconvenient. Below, in one of the groups, I saw a good trophy. Apparently, this was the second large one that we saw initially. I decided to shoot at him.
Distance - 356 meters, angle - minus 20-25 degrees (I don't remember exactly). Since we were lying in deep snow, the bipod had to be fully extended - so that they reached the ground, icy under the snow. Several times I checked all the calculations using the calculator, lay down in position as far as the terrain allowed, and looked at the trophy in the optics.
The animals fed and moved around all the time. The big tour was covered by the bodies of its companions. I lay at the ready, waiting for the opportunity to shoot, and various doubts crept into my head: “Yesterday I flew higher. Why? Maybe because of the altitude, the pressure is lower and the calculator is wrong? Maybe you need to take below the aiming point to neutralize this error? I'll take a little lower. "
At some point, the bull moved slightly to the side of the group, and its left shoulder blade opened. I aimed the crosshair just above the knee and pulled the trigger. The sound of a shot rang out, and the tours began to run. How many of them are there! Where is “mine” among this stream of brown backs ?! I tried to determine the one at which the shot was fired. When the frightened herd ran about 500 meters, I saw him. Elson and Zaur said that he was limping on his right front leg. The tours ran back 700-800 meters and got up in the valley. I found "mine" and began to watch him. Indeed, the tour limped on his right leg, but I was shooting at my left! In a few minutes the tour began ... to feed. This meant that I missed. AGAIN! On the one hand, it's good that the wounded animal didn't do it, but on the other ... Apathy rolled over me.
The guys got wet during our horizontal approach and froze. They offered to drink tea and return to the camp. I did not care. I was depressed. How so? What happened to me? Why such offensive mistakes?
The third, it is the final
He put the carbine on the bipod on the ridge and went to boil water for tea. We drank some tea and were silent. I assembled the Alpen Pod and went to get the carbine. Before reaching the weapon of 10 meters, I raised my head and on the ridge adjacent to the left I saw the peeping head of a tur with huge, powerful horns! I immediately fell on my back and crawled to the weapon. Measured the distance - 424 meters.
This is one of those two old tours that grazed at the bottom of the northern slope, came to the ridge to us. Why did he decide to get up 15 minutes after the shot? What made him? I dont know. Providence?
“Dolby is out of here,” Elson said in a loud whisper.
I didn't like the position at all: in the place where the carbine stood, there was a lot of snow on the slope going down. I looked around and saw an excellent area further along the ridge: flat, without snow. He grabbed the carbine and on the half-bent "dived" from the ridge to the right side so as to remain invisible for the eyes of the tour. I perfectly understood that the animal sees us and at any moment can take a step back, hiding behind the rocks. But I decided to take a chance. After running behind the ridge about 20 meters, I crawled out to the intended position. The tour stood on the ridge. Only his huge horns and chest were visible. There was no doubt about the trophy of the specimen! The distance is 391 meters, the angle is practically zero.
I spun the drums, aimed at the base of my neck and fired. In the optics I saw a hit clearly in place, and a somersault backward, which the beast did after. How to convey the emotions that have flared up inside me? So many trips, kilometers traveled, liters of sweat, failures - everything was remembered and escaped from the chest with a victory cry. The mountains were silent, and I was ready to jump with happiness and awareness of the accomplished goal.
The guys came up with smiles on their faces, began to congratulate and hug on emotions. Isn't this life! I am very grateful to them for the opportunity to take this trophy!
One thing at that moment was annoying - how far had the tour gone? We went to look, hoping that he was caught on the shelf on which he stood. The miracle did not happen - the body rolled half a slope along a steep, shallow dump. We got to the defeated beast, made a photo session and butchered the trophy. Due to the fact that the powerful carcass all the time strove to slide down, it was not easy.
The next day was devoted to the removal of meat and descent to the village. Everything went without incident.
We spent the night at Elson's house, plunged into the car and rushed to St. Petersburg. Along the already familiar road, the trip went as usual, if we do not take into account the fact that, on the one and a half thousand kilometers of the way back, we got into a real winter with frost, heavy snow and ice on the road.
I can safely say that an excellent hunting organizer has appeared in Dagestan! Everything is at the highest level: food, horses, guides, attitude towards the client, the presence of an animal in the land, understanding of the principles of trophy hunting. There is nothing to find fault with! Elson, thank you very much for the hunt! Special thanks to Zaur and Ramazan! The guys did an excellent job. I hope that the fate of hunting will bring us along the way more than once!
On the mortal: the length of the left horn is 103 cm, of the right - 101 cm, base 36 cm, 13 years old. Weapon - Blaser R93, caliber .300WinMag, Hornady ELD-M 225 gr.
