It was a difficult hunt for the Kuban Tur. The first trip in early October did not bring results: I spent 7 days in the mountains, the weather was awful, snow and fog... A great desire to receive this year's "Russian Caucasian Prize" made me return to the KCR a month later. That time the weather was on our side: tt was cloudless sky and complete calm. It was the most difficult hunt in my memory. The first day we just walked. The camp was located at the altitude 2100 m. At 3 am we started climbing, and over the next 25 hours we covered 26 km. The total vertical climb was 2.5 km. It was a very difficult route along the stone Russians, steep ascents, where the snow depth reached 1 meter on the northern slopes. We had overcome 2 passes 3200 m above sea level. The herd, we found, consisted of 17 animals. I got the trophy from a distance of 240 meters. Gorgeous trophy, 14 years old.
I wanted to hunt that chamois in the wonderful republic of North Ossetia for a very long time. In addition, that trophy closed my list of trophies allowed to be hunted in Russia in the Caucasus. The weather was perfect. I was accompanied by professionals. It took us just a hour and a half to make a shot after getting out of the car. The shooting distance was 370 m with an angle of -19 degrees and that shot marked the successful completion of the hunt! I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who helped organize this wonderful hunt!
That hunt for the Central Caucasian tur in Kabardino-Balkaria began at 4 a.m.. At the beginning we drove by car, then switched to horses, and only then from a height of 3000 m. n.m we began climbing on foot. We detected the male on the opposite slope in an hour after climbing the ridge from a height of 3,500 m. at a distance of 1,200 m . After a short discussion we left the observers, and went to shorten the distance along the open slope, from a distance of 700 m. We went down into the gorge, theen rose and happened to be at the distance 320 m. Unfortunately the male noticed us, and while he was taking up a position, the tur was already up. I had to shoot on the move. The sound of the hit was heard, the tur fell over the ridge. Observers on the radio confirmed and congratulated. The trophy turned out to be a 14-year-old Mid-Caucasian tour. That was my 13th trophy on the list of the CMH Mountain Hunter Cup. Cristensen Arms rifle, 300 WSM, 175 gr Berger VLD Hunting. 12 out of 13 trophies were taked with that rifle. Many thanks to Hing Hunt Pro for the excellent organization of hunting. I met those guys at the CMH New Year's Eve party in 2017. From the beginning, the guys helped me get a Mountain five, then they convinced me to achieve better results in reality and helped me get all the trophies of the Mountain Hunters Cup.
That chamois hunting in North Ossetia began at dawn. We detected two chamois very quickly, the first one was at a distance of 1200 m, the other at 780 m. We decided to shorten the distance. We managed to approached 560 m. to the first chamois at a slope of + 40 degrees, but it noticed us. I did not have time to prepare for the shot while I had a chance that's why we decided to go up further to the second one. We went around and approach it from above. Climbing the steep slope took 5 hours, but the chamois was not found. Then we decided to go down and barely found the only place to descend. We returned to the camp by dark. The next morning, events were developing rapidly. The chamois was immediately discovered from the camp, we immediately moved to that direction. As a result, we approached the distance to 380 m. and I got it with one shot.
It was with great pleasure to come back to hunt in Kazakhstan in the hunting farm "Granitogorsk", located on the border with Kyrgyzstan. It was snowing heavily the day before my arrival and the mountains were covered with a stable snow cover. But then the weather improved and promised sunny and frosty days, at night up to -20 degrees. I chose the longest and highest route, I wanted to work a little and walk around. In the morning we started from a height of 2400 meters, to the Kumbel pass, located at an altitude of 3400 meters. It took us about 3,5 hours to climb. Large groups of argali were spotted on the upper plateaus, hunting for them is prohibited in Kazakhstan. The animals, apparently realized that and let us to approached a distance of about 150 meters. We climbed to the top, a magnificent picture of snow-capped mountains and valleys opened up to us. Tactics were very optimal to approach the animals from above. Finally our long search for ibexes was finished with success by 1 pm, when we noticed a group of ibexes below at an altitude of about 2700 meters. There was a long and stealthy descent down to the distance of the shot. We were able to approach the distance of 600 meters unnoticed, at an angle of 25 degrees. I fired the first shot at the most adult male from a not very comfortable, but still stable position I missed it. The reason was not entirely clear. Apparently, the reason was in my new carbine, which I took with me on a hunt for the first time, it hadn't yet been fully studied and shot by me. Then we began to chase animals in an attempt to use a second chance. In an hour of pursuit, we found a group of males resting on the rocks. There were not particularly outstanding trophies in it, but I decided to shoot at one of them at a distance of 420 meters. I shot twice and hit it the ibex was got, but then it fell from a steep cliff and broke off the ends of the horns. The approach to the trophy on the steep slope also made me sweat. As a result, I got 10 years old male in a sufficient labor hunt. We found two more large males with horns about 120 cm when we’re going down, but I did not hunt more despite having a free license. That day I walked 22 kilometers through the mountains, which took 11 hours.
In September 2021, I managed to visit Yakutia (Sakha Republic) where hunted for the Yakut snow sheep. I was lucky to get a trophy of snow sheep. It was 10 years old male. I got acquainted with the changeable Oymyakon weather, local beauties, and the local animals. I was really impressed by meeing such interesting, enthusiastic people. Everything was organized on the high level. Many thanks to the head of the club Afanasy Alekseevich Shishigin, thanks to my guide Yakov Kondakov.
The hunt took place in North Ossetia at night. We sat on the trail. The bear appeared without noise from where we were not expecting jt. It became clear from the silhouette and gait in the thermal imager that the bear was huge . It was walking carefully, when it sensed something was wrong and started to leave. I made a shot. The beast collapsed on the spot, then roared terribly and loudly to the whole forest and then rolled downhill, breaking everything in its path. It hit a large tree, roared for the last time and faded away without breathing and without movement. The bullet hit exactly on target, passed through the heart and got stuck in the spine. The bear turned out to be a huge size, aged 8-9 years, weight more than 300 kg, the width of the front paw was 16 cm. I fired from a Brawning Bar 2 carbine, caliber 30-06.
November was warm and it allowed turs to be on the tops of mountain ranges. We ascended 3000 m and began to look for the animals monitoring the slopes. It made possible to find good males by the evening. I shot at a short distance completed the campaign.
I was going to visit Dagestan in the last year, but had to postpone the trip to the beginning of November this year. Dagestan was greeted with warm and rainy weather. It took us 5 hours drive from Makhachkala to the village of Khnov in the Akhtyn district on the border with Azerbaijan where we met the hospitable Elson Mahmudov and his family. The weather allowed us to go to the mountains only on the 3rd day. We got up at 3 am and rode to the mountains. Horses in the mountains were of great help. By dawn we were at the camp, where we had breakfast and then went in search of turs. We saw several groups of turs during the day, but something prevented us to come closer. We noticed a group of three turs on the way back to the camp, one of which was good. Then there was the rapid ascent and approach to the distance of the shot. The distance was 297 meters. I shot and a tur was got. I would like to note the professionalism of Elson's team. Many thanks to the guides Zaur and Ruslan. Thank you for the warm welcome!
The hunt took place in North Ossetia in the Alagirsky district. It was the first time when I got a mountain trophy so easily and quickly. We climbed to a height of 2600 by car, and saw chamois grazing below. Then we approached a distance of 235 meters, I fired a shot and got the long-awaited trophy. Many thanks to the head of the organization of the NGO "OOIR" RSO-A and Alexey Aziev and my friend George the huntsman.
MOUNTAINS, SNOW, TUR AND STARS. Hunting for Dagestan tur. That year, I found myself in North Ossetia for the second time. It happened by the will of fate and thanks to the efforts of the Department for the Protection and Development of Hunting Resources. The goal was still the same to get the trophy of the Dagestan tur - a secretive and sensitive beast. My first trip was unsuccessful due to certain reasons. I could not even see a single male despite my good physical condition and readiness for long marches and the help of the excellent and experienced local guides when I was there at the end of September. Once we even saw up to 200 heads of females with babies in the one place, and I approached them twenty meters for the sake of sports and professional interest. But I was impressed by communicating with wonderful people which lived in Alanya, the unforgettable beauty of the Caucasus Mountains, spending the night in a hut made of natural stone. The latter one made a special impression on me because I spend a lot of time in the mountains and Siberian forests on work. I had the experience sleeping under a tree and in a crevice between rocks. It's the ultimate pleasure to spend the night in a taiga hut and to take a bath there after many days of wandering through forests and mountains. And there in the Caucasus I suddenly saw a hut made of natural stone, which didn't violate the harmony of the mountain landscape. It was very cozy inside. There were one well-equipped couch and two more modest places adapted for spending the night. The atmosphere of a medieval castle suddenly reigned inside when we lit candles in the evening, in order to eat. But the most important thing was that it sheltered us from the night chill and winds. The path lay to the Fiagdon Gorge, located very close to the infamous Karmadon Gorge, where a few years later the Kol'ka glacier would descend (emphasis on the last syllable). It'd bring death to many people but we didn't know about it yet. Everything was covered with a murky veil of fog, which was not uncommon there. But when we reached an altitude of more than 2000m, we could see the absolutely clear sky and the emerald sheen of mountain ranges covered with snow UAZ took us to a place where it was no longer able to help us in any way. From autumn we got right into winter. The dazzling sun reflected off the pristine snow and burned the eyes of the newcomer from the European plain. Sunglasses helped out. At first there was snow just above the ankle, in some places they walked on the grass at all. As we moved higher up in the mountains, the snow became waist-deep in places It was unknown how many days we went to the mountains. It is always necessary to prepare with a reserve of 3-4 days. Therefore, our faithful assistants - a donkey and a mule helped to transport some of the things. Sometimes a donkey could not walk through the snowdrifts, and we had to make way for it with a mule and our feet. But the moment came when these assistants stopped before a steep snow-covered ascent. There were only 500 meters away to our mountain shelter, but through two snow-covered passes. We walked that way with all our belongings. I carried two backpacks. One of them was with photo and video equipment, the other with things and clothes. It took us five hours instead of the planned two ! But we managed to conduct reconnaissance while we were going. We saw females, and then large males. The sun in our gorge was only from 10 am to 1 pm. It was too late to even think about going up to the turs when we got to the hut. We decided to drink tea, then have a snack more tightly and relax. The plan was to get up early in the morning and to go into battle! I felt light fatigue, hot tea and the warmth of a small stove disposed to sleep. We got in the sleeping bags and smoothly sank into a doze, and then into sleep. Since we went to bed early (around 6 pm), we quickly regained strength by breathing in the fresh mountain air. The body no longer required sleep. That was the reason why I left the hut several times just to admire the night Caucasian sky, strewn with diamond dust of stars. I love hunting also for the fact that it gives me the opportunity to touch this natural and unspoiled by modern civilization, beauty because such impressions remain in my memory for the rest of my life. In the morning, our guides Batras and Jamal quickly detected the group of turs on the opposite slope of the gorge. They were large males, but they had moved aside from the place where we had seen them the day before. That created additional difficulties for us how to approach the animals. The situation was complicated by the wind, which blew from an inconvenient side for our approach. We realized that we would have to follow the slowly moving turs. And that task was more difficult for hunters than to go around and wait for animals, which were moving on you. But there was nothing to do, we drank r hot tea with homemade cakes and we set off. The gold of sunlight flowed down from the mountain peaks, illuminated and warmed (a relative concept in the mountains) more and more parts of the gorge. Batras calculated the route clearly . He had decades of experience behind him. We moved steadily to the top, where the turs were grazing. At the beginning we had to walk on loose, and then on compacted snow that looked more like ice. So we got to the foot of the ridge, which we had to climb. Batras laid out a route to those places that would exclude the possibility of being noticed by animals. He monitored their movements regularly with my SWAROVSKI binoculars, which I provided to him during our expedition, and which was a faithful assistant to us in determining the location of the animals and the value of the trophy. At last we reached very steep slopes, where it was sometimes necessary to move with great caution Here I want to make a small digression and explain to those who have not visited the Caucasus yet what these mountains are. You should talk to these mountains only with respect and in no other way even they seem small height and ease of ascent. I have walked a lot in the Tien Shan and Pamir mountains, in southern Siberia and Altai, but I haven't seen more difficult mountains then on the Caucasus. Perhaps they can only be compared with the mountains in Kamchatka when hunting snow sheep. They are very steep. There is nothing to do there, especially for a beginner, without special mountain shoes! High boots of the company "MEINDL" serve me faithfully for many years on mountain hunts. Bad shoes will provide you (regardless of your fitness level): stretching of the ankle (there may be dislocations), stretching of the tendons of the knee joint, and the calf and femoral muscles on descents and rapid fatigue. I'm not talking about the risk that a person condemned himself to when he goes to the mountains in shoes that doesn't keep him on slippery grass or rocks, on dangerous ledges. And there is an abundance of all this in the Caucasus. About half an hour left to climb to the peak. Batras and I moved silently and quickly like cats over hummocks of frozen grass, snow and stones, and talked mainly with our eyes and gestures, we persistently move higher and higher. There was a backpack behind my shoulders with photo and video equipment, a carbine. I also had a faithful assistant- the pole made of dry hazel. It was my friend in the mountains! That's what one of the guides told me on my first visit. You can walk without it, but it's better and more reliable with it. We were already not far from the place we had planned. Batras showed me a good male, who was the last to go. I borrowed my binoculars and caught that handsome trophy immediately. My heart ached. I remembered what I had already gone through, when had left without a trophy during the previous trip. I could hardly describe my feelings that I experienced during reaching the decisive milestone. Perhaps I could compare the whole process to flying into a "black hole" that just sucks me in. That process of hiding turs was also fascinating. I understood subconsciously that I needed to get to the turs by any means and nothing could stop that process. We made only short stops to catch breath and control over the movements of the turs, and again on and on. It was impossible to delay, otherwise all efforts were in vain! So we passed several small peaks and ridges. There was less snow on that side and at the bottom of that gorge. Therefore, we literally flew into the last slope, and saw from the top how the group of animals was retreating into a nearby small gorge. The last one who slowly disappeared from view was a large male with very good horns, which I had already seen before. We were reassured by the fact that it moved calmly. It meant that they didn’t notice us. We had to stay motionless in the open up to our waists in snow all that time, while we were watching that male. That's where the snow element decided to test us. There was only 100 meters left before the line from which it would be possible to make a shot. Just 100 meters! A pedestrian will calmly walk these meters on asphalt in a minute. But those were mountains and not just mountains, but the Caucasus! When we needed to move even faster, there was snow on our way. It was hard on top and loose on the bottom. At the beginning the snow was to the waist, then to the chest. We make our way with a staff and legs. I was sweating my nuts off. But we couldn't stop because the turs were leaving. The sense of time was lost. There was the only thought in my head – not to be late! So we "swam" over that snowy line and rested against steep cliffs with sharp chips at the edges. “And one veers off to find a bypass But we opt for the toughest path As dicey as a trail in times of war” Those beautiful words of the song written by Vladimir Vysotsky, described the situation in which we found ourselves. It was possible to go around, but it would take time and efforts that were still needed to make just one aimed shot at a great distance. Otherwise animals just wouldn't give us a second chance – they'd hide behind the ridges. I could miss that chance if I lost my breath. There were 20 seconds between heaven and earth. Sometimes they seem like an eternity. There were only eight meters ahead. I walked forward on a rocky ledge, stepped on icy grass or the same icy stones, clang with frozen hands to the slightest protrusions of rocks. It was obligatory to check those protrusions beforehand so that they didn't break off when I snatched at them. The half of my foot was hanging over where it was better not to look. I could fall off and fly away for a year (hospital bed) or forever. My backpack and carbine also required special attention because they tended to catch on to something at the most inopportune moment. I did one more step following the Batras and happened to be in that blissful captivity of the snow mass, which would not allow me to fall off the cliff. It seemed to me like a feather bed that gently and carefully accepted me after treacherous rocks after that cornice. We walked another five meters and we were in a good position for observation, but not for shooting because we couldn't lie down - it was too high, and it was inconvenient to stand because the rocks didn't block us from the animals. Batras looked through binoculars and said, while I was tuning up for shooting and looking for males, that he didn't see big males in the group that was moving smoothly along the slope of the ridge opposite from us. It immediately flashed through my head: “"Are we really too late?!". I pulled on the hood of my mask and look out slowly from behind the stone. There was a big group of turs. It consisted on mainly females and young males. One male was about 4-5 years old. But, I looked out a little more and noticed another group of turs a little which was lower down the slope, among which there was one very large male. I sat on a stone and showed Batras with my eyes that there was another group of turs below. He looked through binoculars and said about that big tur: "This is what you need! Shoot!” I asked him: “ What is the distance toward them?”, - he replied about 150 meters. It is always very difficult for a person from the plain to determine the distance in the mountains. Everything seems much closer. Therefore, it is better to have a rangefinder. I didn't have it at that time. There was one circumstance that prevented me from calmly aiming and making an accurate shot. I shot a carbine in the mountains the day before, and the bullets fell according to a logic I did not understand, although I was the experienced shooter. They hit the target ten centimeters from the center tightly to each other. Then I came to the conclusion that it was because of the Russian sight of variable multiplicity of 3-9x39, which was on my "Los-7". What I read about it earlier almost let me down at the most inopportune moment. The sight was always lost, although I transported it in a hard case with foam rubber. I tried to calculate all possible and impossible corrections; the whole process flashed immediately through my head. Then I applied the sight just behind the shoulder blade at the level of the tur's spine and pulled the trigger. That was the last opportunity to make a well-aimed shot, because the turs were already crossing another ridge. It jumped slightly and disappeared behind the ridge. The last thing I noticed after firing into the sight was a large column of dust. I thought that I had missed and hit a rock or a stone, which gave this dust. I was very disappointed with my blunder and annoyed at the missed opportunity, that's why I came out from behind the stones, the animals were already 500-600 meters away from us, settled down on the stones to restore my strength and offered Batras to do the same. "Wait for me here, Dmitry!" - he said and went to see the place where I shot the tur. I looked at the other slope and thought that it was all 250 meters away from us, and not 150, as my guide told me. I managed to chew some dried apricots and nuts while Batras made his way to the other slope. I always take such snack when go to the mountains. It saved not only me from heart failure, but also those who walked with me, and who were running out of strength. I took a look once again at the path that we had traveled with Batras, and I thought, that the rapid ascent, the conquest of snow and cornices would remain in my memory for the rest of my life! Then I took some beautiful pictures of the mountain landscapes of the Caucasus ranges with my CANON EOS 33, and prepared to wait for the guide. Our "attack" was so fast that we didn't even have time to take what we wanted on video. Batras had slowly examined the place where the male stood at the moment of the shot then descended a little lower behind the opposite ridge, turned to me and shouted: "Dmitry, there are drops of blood here!". Suddenly Jamal's voice was heard on the radio. He controlled the situation from below. "The tur is going down!" said Batras, after Jamal told him that he saw. The tur was sliding down the snowy slope into the gorge. It took me time to understand what they were talking about. Blood. The tur. Down. Our mountain spurt upward led to a slight inhibition in thinking due to lack of oxygen. It was on the height 2300 masl. I was not sure that I hit it and didn't see the animal fall and the behavior of mountain animals differed from the plains, that all contributed to the fact that I could not understand that what I had desired and worked hard for, had finally happened. I began to realize everything that had happened only when we went down through the compacted snow into the gorge, where the lifeless body of me trophy was sliding down. Going down in the mountains is no easier, and sometimes even more difficult, than going up. It was on the way down when I really realized that I had hit an animal. The trail of the portage with blood stains was clearly discernible in the snow I bombarded Batras with questions as a boy, most of the real trophy hunters behaved the same way. How big is it? What age? Does it have big horn? Jamal was already at the trophy and replied. It was very large, about 12-13 years old, and the horns were very large, the largest of those that were shot that season. Then I took a video of the gorge and our descent along it, and fell silent until the meeting place with my trophy. I tried to comprehend about 20 minutes what had happened and how. But I finally realized how lucky I was only when I approached the defeated beast. I have long been imbued with great respect for these strong, hardy and very secretive animals. And I have never understood those hunters, with the exception of the locals, who see only a piece of meat in beautiful animals. Although my friends and I are always happy to cook various, delicious dishes from wild meat after a successful hunt and like to seat in close company, with good wine, we once again experience a successful shot with the shooter. At last, I came next to the animal I got. It was a very large male with good horns under 80 cm. I took off my hat, silently paid tribute to the creation of the Almighty and thanked him for the good fortune sent to me. I took out a backup flask of hunting liquor, I regaled all our guides. We drank a sip to the Hunting God of those places - Afshati and the guys heartily wished me to develop my success in the future. I made a toast in their honor, because I know that success in hunting was simply impossible without such people. But I will write about them separately! There were no clouds in the sky, there were mountains and snow all around. The photos turned out to be simply excellent. We quickly loaded the trophy onto the mule to descend down, and we ourselves reached the hut, had a snack, drank tea and lay down to rest. That night had become doubly stellar for me. It had been a long time since I was overwhelmed with feelings of joy, satisfaction and pride for the path I had made in the mountains, a well-aimed shot and a good trophy! Although it all has happened a long time ago, but almost every step of that hunt is still in my memory!
Gifts from the Caucasus mountains. It's been a long time ago but it's never too late to tell about it. It was a hot August day. We overnighted at the base in the valley and moved to the mountains early in the morning. It was my first visit to the Caucasus mountains for hunting. I had already hunted in the Tien Shan, Pamir, Sayan and Altai, but the Caucasus was a big mystery to me. I read lots of reviews and articles beforehand and realized that it was somewhat more difficult to walk in the Caucasus even than on the Tian Shan. I don't include the Pamirs in this list, because it is necessary to talk about the difficulties of movement at the Pamir altitude of 4500-5000m separately. The first assault on the Caucasus mountains began when we drove the UAZ, which tried to jump over the stones of the washouts left on the mountain, forest road by the torrential rain that had passed the day before. We had to use chains on wheels. We breathed easier when we finally reached the meadows at an altitude of about 2000m. Beautiful landscapes of alpine meadows and magnificent mountain peaks with glaciers opened to the eyes. My assumptions about the special conditions of movement in the Caucasus were fully confirmed from the first steps, which I took on the first section of the 4-kilometer crossing. The grass was almost waist-deep covered with morning dew. The Caucasus is strongly distinguished from other mountains by an abundance of moisture. Maybe that is the reason why it is very difficult to breathe there. The impression was that the chest was squeezed and I wasn't allowed to breathe freely. I had never felt like that in any other mountains at heights much higher than those ones. It should be noted for the sake of completeness that I had to carry a lot on myself. I had one backpack behind my shoulders, which could easily fit a 10-year-old child in addition to weapons and a knife. I carried the second backpack with photo and video equipment in front. The result of the lack of a moisture-proof suit was that there was practically no dry place on us after 15 minutes of walking along narrow trails. But the saddest thing was that I had special forces leather boots on my feet, which did a poor job for me in that campaign. I treated them with a special moisture impregnation before the expedition but they got wet after half an hour and absolutely did not hold the ankle. I treated them with a special moisture impregnation before the expedition, but they got wet after half an hour and did not hold the ankle absolutely. The foot was constantly "dancing" inside the tightly laced shoe. I put on the extra insoles to reduce the internal volume of the shoe, but it did not help. My legs "burned" at the end of the hunt as if I had walked over hot coals. Fortunately, I managed to avoid serious scuffs and calluses. Since then, I no longer walk in the mountains in such shoes. Finally, we reached the primitive shelter, where we left most of the things. We drank some tea, ate snacks and set off. A hunter with a camera and a camera always returns from trips with trophies. If it's not the horns or the skin of an animal, then there are a lot of photos and a video. So, we walked with the guide, he was a little ahead in search of the beast, I was a little behind trying to shoot all the beautiful things that we encountered on our way. There is always something to shoot in the mountains, especially in the Caucasus. Soon we noticed graceful chamois. Three individuals grazed on the slope closer to the ridge. It was not difficult for us to get closer to them I was already videotaping and photographing them in a half an hour later. It was a pity that a fine and cold rain began to drizzle, which caused a lot of inconvenience when working with the equipment. Chamois turned out to be very good actresses and gave us the opportunity to admire them in all their glory for half an hour. But the rain was getting stronger, and we had to take shelter under a cliff from the wind, and the cellophane, thoughtfully captured by my guide, saved us from the rain. It was not very comfortable to sit on the ground with raised hands, in which cellophane was fluttering in the wind, but it saved us from the rain and cold wind. Then the cold rain was replaced by a strong wind, which dispersed the clouds that were already floating under our feet. The sun came out. The view had become much better, and we were lucky enough to observe several female turs with cubs. But we didn't observe "solid and proud turs" yet. We often changed clothes when moving along the main ridge (on our route), because the weather often changed. The guide followed to the place where, in his opinion, there should have been turs. We also carefully examined all possible sites where adult males could presumably be located But saw none of them. And there we were where the turs rested during the day. That area consisted of steep rocky ridges with small defenses, where turs usually liked to lie down. The animals can see everything in the neighborhood for several kilometers, and sometimes it's impossible to notice them at all if they don't move. We tried to strain all the sharpness of our vision, when examining every piece of rocks with our eyes, but we were convinced that we were not lucky with turs that day. It was impossible to move further forward, and we decided to move back after a short rest. Our attention was attracted by a huge bear that appeared from nowhere about five hundred meters below us while we were resting. Its skin had a straw tint, and it practically merged with the already withered grass in places. The bear was turning over rocks and looking for something under them. The sight was mesmerizing, and we alternately admired that beautiful giant through binoculars. Its beautiful hide glistened in the sun. We decided to get closer to the bear and began to descend. It took us half an hour to do down, or maybe a little more, and when we went out about the area where the clubfoot was before, there were only traces of it, which remained at the feeding site. You can imagine our disappointment! But the absence of the bear did not upset our plans. I noticed some movement even below us in the huge, age-old pines when looked at the nearest area through binoculars. We took a closer look, and convinced that these were turs. It was difficult to say how many of them were there. Constantly we saw only one, who was moving slowly inside a small grove. It jumped gracefully over pine trees in three girths which laid on the ground. My heart began to throb in my chest in anticipation of the hunting process. But the problem was that we had nothing to hide behind during approaching. There was no tree or bush for several hundred meters on the approach to the grove. My guide was already desperate. "It won't work!” - he said, about to turn back. But I didn't like that prospect in any way. I took a closer look. I saw those terrain irregularities that could help us, and I remembered that I crawled on my stomach not a single kilometer in the hills of Transbaikalia when I was in the army. So, we crawled like two lizards (upside down, upside down) with backpacks and weapons to the most critical area, hiding behind every blade of grass, and found ourselves on the edge of a small gorge. What we have witnessed from that moment I could described separately and in more detail. There will be skeptics who won't believe it, but it has been real, but I've seen it for the first time in my life. A two- or three-year-old bear was digging at the very bottom of the gorge in the bushes and grass in search of the food he needed for hibernation. I was impressed by the absolute peace of the bearish procedure; I began to shoot the bear with a video camera and a camera from a distance of 30-40 meters. We were very lucky with the wind that time. It was blowing from the side of the animals at us - that was, up. The bear was calmly moving down. I was shooting the film, and watching the turs out of the corner of our eye. They were also already in close proximity to us, that's why we decided to try to get closer to them, because it was impossible to see animals in the grove (although it was only 100 meters away), not to mention their horns. And so, we were at the edge of the grove. Finally, we could straighten up a little, hiding behind the trees. I started filming turs with a video camera. I was carried away by the process, and got closer and closer to the vacationing animals. I didn't know how many of them there were in total, and that fact almost played its insidious role in the whole process of hiding. I constantly saw only one, maximum two males. Sometimes I saw a good trophy, and sometimes an average one. Suddenly noticed that I was almost on the edge of a whole herd. The tips of horns were sticking out everywhere from behind fallen trees. I had already filmed some turs from a distance of no more than 30 meters. A strong wind from their side and the noise created by the wind facilitated for it. Sometimes I thought with despair that the turs would notice me when I was leaning out from behind a tree with a camera. I had caught the muzzle of the tur in the lens and thought with apprehension, looking into the eyes of that cautious animal, that now my "failure" and "triumph" of the natural instincts and visual acuity of the wild beast would take place. I froze in a tense pose and was strictly aware of the fact that the slightest movement of my muscle would negate everything we had done earlier. I prayed to God for only one thing - that the tur would quickly look away from my direction, since my legs were shaking in an uncomfortable position. I was saved by some incomprehensible fuss and the alarming whistle of the tur. At that moment, the guard tur turned all its attention to the left of me to the gorge. The following events were taking place there at that time. Our bear, who was feeding in the same gorge, slowly moved down to one of the turs, which laid on the slope. The last one did not like this neighborhood at all. And it began whistling to notify about the "interventionist" of other turs, and took a defensive stance. The bear believed that it had much more rights to move around that territory, stood up on its hind legs and waved its right front paw several times right in front of the muzzle of the tur. The tur began to whistle even louder and more often. I realized that the situation was becoming critical for me (since the animals could break away and run away at any moment), I turned all my attention towards the turs. I saw that all the turs began to get up, showing a special interest in the gorge. There were about 12-13 turs in close proximity to me. Yes, what trophies! One male was more powerful and bigger than the other! They began to move, and I constantly lost sight of the tur that I would like to get. The situation was extremely critical for me: either I shoot without much choice, or the animals would run away after the next danger signal! I chose a good one and waited for the moment when it would appear from behind the trees and branches. But other turs, which stood nearby began to move, and I periodically lost "my". Suddenly, it seemed to me, the male froze for a moment, and I saw part of the neck and the front part of the beast's body through the gap between the trunk of a fallen pine tree and a large branch. I put the sight on the body of the beast just behind the shoulder blade, I smoothly pulled the trigger … The shot rang out unusually muffled. The whole herd galloped down, and only one male slowly wandered to our right along the edge of the grove. It walked 30 meters and disappeared from view, as the whole perspective was covered by fallen trees. I couldn’t understand anything. As it turned out later, the male was seriously injured and lay down for that reason. But then it decided to continue on its way, and I saw it again through the trunks of pine trees. I had to wait until it came out at least to some clearance to make another shot and stop the animal. There was a small gap! I noticed its head, neck and a part of the body. I had to shoot! The next trunks of pine trees were already nearby. The Shot! The tur disappeared from sight, but I heard the sound of a bullet hit the hull. I was fully satisfied with the process and accurate shots. So, the guide and I took all our things that we left in the course of our journey so that they would not interfere with us hiding tours and approached this place and went to the place where the tur had to be. We were in full confidence that it'd be on the place where I hit it last time Just imagine our disappointment! We didn't find the tur. We realized that it could not be, and we began to search the area. How could two experienced trackers failed to find a wounded animal? It couldn't be so. At first we found droplets of blood, the place where the tur lay down for the first time, then the place where it began to slide down. The slope was very steep and long. We thought that we would have to go down to the very bottom of the gorge. But that time, we were lucky. The tur did not travel long on its last journey. It hooked horns on the grass and soil, and lay only a hundred meters down the slope. I could hardly believe what I saw when I approached the animal I had captured. My trophy had large horns of perfect shape and, most importantly, with fully preserved elegant, thin tips. Only a real mountain hunter could understand what I felt in that moment. It was very difficult to take a picture with the trophy because of the steepness of the slope. Tur's powerful body was constantly dragging me down. Finally, we made the pictures, put the head with horns behind the shoulders in a backpack and we were already "checking" the slopes with our eyes to find the optimal way back to the shelter. The guide told me that there were two ways back: one was the one we came by (a long and heavy flat climb with access to the top of the ridge); the other was a shorter one (in his opinion), but which he had not yet walked. The short way doesn't always mean faster! I will remember this thought for a long time since then. We chose a shorter route due to great fatigue and lack of any desire to overcome a long draft for the second time, we moved along the ridge in half a hill. It was the great mistake! I have long been convinced of the correctness of the statement that "the shortest road is the road that you know!” As a result, when we came a rocky wall, from which many mountain springs flowed, we realized how serious the situation was! There was neither the strength nor the time to go back and return along a gentler path. It was dangerous to go forward with a load of about 30-35kg on my shoulders. Any careless movement on a slippery sleeping bag could lead to a fall, the consequences of which could be unpredictable. So we decided to rest and think. We were sitting, taking a breath, and we tried to examine every inch of the mountains through which it was necessary to pass. The big problem for me at that moment was my army boots I know many people who praise them. But I’ve came to the categorical conclusion that if you want to have problems in the mountains, then take these boots with you. The hard sole with poor tread slides even on dry rocks, not to mention wet ones. They absolutely don’t hold the ankle, the leg "dangles" in them, no matter how many insoles you put inside and no matter how many socks you put on your foot. I made a lot of effort to keep my feet and balance on rocks. Those boots simply exhausted my feet in a way that I did not exhaust them in the army when I ran a 50-kilometer march, wearing simple army boots. In general, I have not worn worse shoes for mountain hunting yet! (The explanation! It was in 2000 and those army boots were of the old pattern). But it was absolutely necessary to go further. There was no place to overnight. We were encouraged by the sudden appearance of three objects of the animal world at once: a female tur with a kid and a huge bear. The female tried for a long time to understand what kind of aliens invaded their territory. But then it decided just to take her baby away from the unknown. The bear walked along the mountain stream for a long time, looking for something under the rocks. Then it came out into a small clearing 200 meters away from us and began to sniff. It stood up on its hind legs to its full height, and finally it saw and smelled us. For a while it stared at us with its bearish gaze. Then, it jumped up and turned around in the air, and moved away, it gave such a run that we could not even imagine that it was possible to move at such a speed through the mountains. We felt envy for such a movement in space was undisguised! After that we saw off the bear, sighed with a feeling of slight envy for the four-legged one, and moved on in search of our way out of the rocky trap. That meeting help us because we analyzed the way the bear was moving away from us and came to the conclusion that we could try to follow its path. Obviously, God sent us that bear to show us the way back. We were right to follow that path! At last we rounded a small ridge and came out on a relatively gentle slope, where it was possible to move more or less calmly. There was no limit to joy. We overcame that slope, and came to the top of another ridge, from which we could already see the valley where our shelter was located. That joyful euphoria helped us not to pay attention to the accumulated fatigue that was "sitting" inside. But we immediately felt it as soon as we allowed ourselves to relax, when saw the final goal. Only an inexperienced tourist may think that it is easier to go down in the mountains than to climb. But those who have walked in the mountains more than once for several days , know how you feel when descending. The impression was that there were pieces of wood instead of muscles in my legs that stubbornly didn't want to obey me and bend. They become rigid, losing their elasticity up to convulsions from the abundance of lactic acid in the muscles. We had to stop for halts more often and massage my calf and thigh muscles. The only circumstance warmed my soul and supported me at that moment. Although the burden was heavy, but it was my own. The realization and feeling that a load of 30-35kg was pressing on my shoulders, but that load was a trophy honestly obtained by me, was the core that helped me keep the course. I touched the tips of the horns, which came out a little forward and down from behind my back, remembered the final stage of the hunt and the path did not seem so difficult When I finally got to our shelter, I took off my backpack with the horns and almost soared up from the feeling of sudden lightness. So great was the relief from the load. It seemed that if I ran a little, push off, I could fly. We just sat on the bench for a few minutes, rested, took a breath and scrolled through all the adventures of that day. We even didn't talk for some time because were satisfied not only with the trophy, but also with the pictures that we managed to shoot, as well as those scenes from the life of nature that we saw. Then after a short rest, we had a quick snack, drank, as it should be for a successful hunt, and fell into the enveloping bliss of sleep. P.S. The trophy had good parameters. It received a gold medal and took an honorable place in the top twenty in the world according to the SCI system at that time after submitting an application and evaluating it with a SCI meter.
I was hunting in the KCR in the Arkhyz area. It was the fast hunting, that took just one day. We got up in the morning and went back down in the evening. I shot from 338 Lapua Magnum at 468m. I am happy with the trophy. Organized by Eventus. Guides were Mikhail and Andrey.
It was a hard walking on the loose, dolomite-covered slopes of the Balkan spurs of Macedonia. It was interesting and sometimes I had to make efforts to get to the distance of a confident shot to numerous, but no less cautious from that Balkan chamois. Moreover, the rented weapons were the Yugoslavian Zastava carbine. It was tested and started to shoot well with great difficulty only at the place. The trophy was obtained from a distance of 270 m
I can call hunting for the Pyrenean chamois, to be a mountain hunting because of our of the efforts that we made to find a trophy. We walked up and down the rocky slopes of the Andorran Pyrenees at an altitude of about one and a half thousand meters at the junction of three borders - Andorra, France, Spain. The trophy was got from a distance of 300 m .
I could hardly call any hunting in the mountains of Spain to be a mountain hunting . That one, among the rock scree of Cantabria, was no exception. We ascended for an hour by foot along the trail, then there were identification of the trophy and a simple shot from the rented weapon. The shooting distance was 230 meters.
