elkbowkevin
WKR
OHH!!!! And I think we now have our "Ultimate Mountain Hunter", candidate. 
New Zealand DIY Free Range Hunt of a Lifetime!!
- Thread starter wilkes
- Start date
honer
FNG
IMHO that's a promise you should KEEP.
Fixed.
rexahayes
Lil-Rokslider
The money shot!!
The buck went just shy on 9”. An absolutely beautiful animal and a true alpine trophy on the deck.
hell yeah! i know exactly how I'm posing with my big game kill this year.
Crazy turns in this story. Eagerly awaiting the next installment who knows what will pop in next
Sent from my SM-G900V using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-G900V using Tapatalk
That's what she said.
JP100
WKR
Can't trust an Aussie haha
Sent from my SM-G930F using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-G930F using Tapatalk
I think that is hilarious and I can just see me sending my wife a similar pic
. Don't worry about the uptight guys . Great story keep it coming!I think that is hilarious and I can just see me sending my wife a similar pic
Haha! Thanks mate. Next instalment shortly.
Paradactal
Lil-Rokslider
What kind of post did I just stumble upon?? Classic, cant wait to read the rest!!
Great story so far mate, can't wait for the next installment.
Last edited:
wasatchcomm
WKR
awesome!
DoveBlaster
WKR
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
- Messages
- 387
Great story, hope to do something similar soon!
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
ozyclint
WKR
looks like a summer coat. lol
They could both use summer coats!
We felt like conquering hero’s! The cape and head were great, but the meat was the real trophy. We had barely eaten proper meals since making our way up high and now it was time to feast.
My friend has done a lot of bush cooking in remote places. We started by eating small cuts on sticks over the flames, then moved on to throwing the entire shanks into the coals and cooking them Aboriginal style. When they were ready, we pulled them out, dusted them off and sprinkled some of our cape salt onto them… Nothing beats first meat… They were smoky/crispy and amazing.
The latter half of the day saw the fog roll in and we relaxed in camp with full bellies and big smiles. It was my turn with the rifle in the morning and by this point, I had worked out the mountain was only offering up a half day of good weather at best. It might be the morning, midday or afternoon. The window for visibility was short and I was worried It would mean that I couldn’t make the trip back to the Tahr without being forced back down the mountain. To make the most of the weather I decided to chase the Chamois in the area the buck was taken.
We headed back to the rocky outcrop and glassed the face for animals. After a few short minutes between the fog I caught a small group of Chamois at roughly 150m below. I picked the biggest of the group, settled into position, took aim and… *CLICK* The Kimber Montana forgot to bark? I grabbed the bolt, cycled, found the target again and… *CLICK CLICK CLICK*
At this point the Chamois group could hear the sound of me cursing my rifle and re-cycling the bolt. They jumped up and started to hop around the rocks and look back towards me on high alert. After the second cycle I was down to the last round in my 3 round magazine. It was either going to go *BANG* this time or I would go empty handed again. I had no time to lose. In a fraction of a second I pounded the last round into the chamber and pulled the trigger and… *BOOM* The 300WSM barked out and spat fire toward the cliff hanging goat. In an instant, all was quiet and the goats were gone.
The third attempt was rushed but the shot ‘felt’ good. What the hell happened with the rifle? Did I hit anything? Eager to open my meat account on the mountain, we scurried down the rocks and began the search… No blood trail… Right behind the shot was thick cover. I could have shot the goat of his perch and into the cover and never had a hope of finding him. Or maybe I had missed entirely? My friend felt good about the shot too but unfortunately no animal was recovered. The fog once again rolled in and our hunting window for the day closed. Back to camp running the situation over and over in my head…
I later found that the Kimber Montana can have a common issue with a loose screw that prevents the pin from firing.
I guess it’s not all that bad when this is your view, right?
My friend has done a lot of bush cooking in remote places. We started by eating small cuts on sticks over the flames, then moved on to throwing the entire shanks into the coals and cooking them Aboriginal style. When they were ready, we pulled them out, dusted them off and sprinkled some of our cape salt onto them… Nothing beats first meat… They were smoky/crispy and amazing.
The latter half of the day saw the fog roll in and we relaxed in camp with full bellies and big smiles. It was my turn with the rifle in the morning and by this point, I had worked out the mountain was only offering up a half day of good weather at best. It might be the morning, midday or afternoon. The window for visibility was short and I was worried It would mean that I couldn’t make the trip back to the Tahr without being forced back down the mountain. To make the most of the weather I decided to chase the Chamois in the area the buck was taken.
We headed back to the rocky outcrop and glassed the face for animals. After a few short minutes between the fog I caught a small group of Chamois at roughly 150m below. I picked the biggest of the group, settled into position, took aim and… *CLICK* The Kimber Montana forgot to bark? I grabbed the bolt, cycled, found the target again and… *CLICK CLICK CLICK*
At this point the Chamois group could hear the sound of me cursing my rifle and re-cycling the bolt. They jumped up and started to hop around the rocks and look back towards me on high alert. After the second cycle I was down to the last round in my 3 round magazine. It was either going to go *BANG* this time or I would go empty handed again. I had no time to lose. In a fraction of a second I pounded the last round into the chamber and pulled the trigger and… *BOOM* The 300WSM barked out and spat fire toward the cliff hanging goat. In an instant, all was quiet and the goats were gone.
The third attempt was rushed but the shot ‘felt’ good. What the hell happened with the rifle? Did I hit anything? Eager to open my meat account on the mountain, we scurried down the rocks and began the search… No blood trail… Right behind the shot was thick cover. I could have shot the goat of his perch and into the cover and never had a hope of finding him. Or maybe I had missed entirely? My friend felt good about the shot too but unfortunately no animal was recovered. The fog once again rolled in and our hunting window for the day closed. Back to camp running the situation over and over in my head…
I later found that the Kimber Montana can have a common issue with a loose screw that prevents the pin from firing.
I guess it’s not all that bad when this is your view, right?
I spent the next 2-3 days waiting out the rain and fog and taking a chance on the weather where possible. My window of opportunity to starting to slip.
One morning while I was out hunting, two Chamois rolled into the rocky area not 50m from camp. My friend and his partner watched them play for about 2 hours, hoping I would come back in time to take one… No chance. When I got back to camp it became another ‘what-if?’ scenario for me.
With the weather continuing to turn against us, meat eaten and time running out we decided to pack up and head back down to the valley floor. We might be able to salvage 1-2 days of solid hunting down there and pray for better weather. We got up early, packed gear and with mixed emotions headed on the trail back down. I had heard/read every story about Tahr and Chamois hunting and they were all true. You could walk 500m and shoot a trophy, or be pushed back constantly by the weather for a week. The mountain truly protects them and only gives up glimpses of success to the hunter. What an amazing experience. I was hooked and it would not be the last time I made my way back to this incredible place.
It took us 9 hours to make it up and we hoped we could cut that time in half on the way down. The trail started wet and muddy but soon began to warm up as the sun cut through at lower elevation. We were moving much faster and it was starting to burn my knees and arms out from constantly using them as brakes to slow down in steep areas. On the way we had only seen trail markers for the first 50% of the track. On the way down we had markers the whole way… No wonder it took 9 hours up… We must have wandered onto some deer trails and lost the path.
When we made it back in under 3 hours, we collapsed again in the warm hut. What an awesome addition these huts make to wilderness areas. We hung our clothes to finally dry after a week of being constantly wet. I was especially excited for a dry sleeping bag! The Chamois cape was re-salted and hung to dry out. We also had a huge pan to fry up the last of the Chamois meat, mixed with onions and gravy… This was heaven. With food eaten and clothes dry, we went to look out over the valley floor in some open grassy areas for deer. There was deer sign everywhere and certain trails looked like highways.
It was then I looked up through my rifle scope and had one of the greatest wilderness experiences in my life. I looked up high about 4km away as the mountain top began to silhouette in front of the falling sun. I don’t know what prompted me to look in that direction, but I held the rifle in place and stared. A moment later I could make out the head of an animal pop up and with the sun’s rays from behind, it stood out clear as day. Slowly the animal moved higher and a lone Red deer hind was perched on this mountain top. Then, just as quickly as she appeared, another head popped up followed by another…. A group of half a dozen red deer then came into crystal clear view. Suddenly a huge Red Stag bounded around the group as if to corral the herd away from the open and back down to cover. HE WAS MASSIVE! For a wild head he had great genetics. My jaw hit the floor watching this all unfold as I had no idea the deer would move that high. What an amazing experience.
The sun set and I was completely satisfied in the afternoon trip. Back to the hut to rest the legs and body. We promised ourselves that no matter how much pain we were in or how tired we were, that we would head out before first light and sit over the grassy valley. The next thing I remember is my friends partner reminding us to wake up… The sun was coming up. The best we could do was grunt back.
“Are you guys going to get up and hunt?”
“Erghhhhhhh!”
“The suns coming up, you better get out right now!”
“Erghhhhh…”
I knew the only way I would get an animal is by putting in the time. I would not get to the end of this trip with a single regret and I wasn’t going to start by wasting a perfect morning hunt. We both literally ran out the hut door while getting dressed. I was pulling over my jacket and trying to tie my laces. We quickly made it to the edge of the valley floor and I made a 180 degree scan of the area… DEER! I see what appeared to be a young stag at 180m on the move and right about to walk behind cover… In a fraction of a second I dropped to the ground, aimed and *BOOM*. The deer had made half a body length of cover but we both heard the impact of that round with a heavy thud. With my heart already racing I see another one! I again drop and fire – The short mag drops a second!
It all happened in a heart-beat. If we had taken 3 seconds longer leaving the hut… If we hadn’t ran… If we had decided to sleep in… This opportunity would not have happened. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces. We ran down to find the deer. Just as we made it down to a small island of cover in the middle of the valley floor, we noticed a few sets of legs STANDING behind the trees… My friend called out that the deer were still alive. No way they took those 300wsm pills and stayed standing… I thought. We pulled around the cover and saw two deer take off towards the raging river… They were going to cross it! We moved up behind them and watched as they swam. As they both made the far bank, I handed the rifle to my friend and he settled and fired on the first then second. Two deer down! But neither was a stag. So what happened to mine? We moved back to the spot I hit him and there he was, not 10m from the area of impact. It turns out we shot up a whole small group of red deer.
I sat and admired my Stag. A young pointer with a beautiful golden colour. He was the first stag I have ever taken. He represented the months of planning, preparation and lost opportunities. Very few things have I worked this hard for in my life. This made him MY trophy.
The recovered bullet. Shot landed a little further back from the shoulders than I would have liked but the pill did the job. It was found on the opposite side of the chest cavity embedded in the skin.
Caped
One morning while I was out hunting, two Chamois rolled into the rocky area not 50m from camp. My friend and his partner watched them play for about 2 hours, hoping I would come back in time to take one… No chance. When I got back to camp it became another ‘what-if?’ scenario for me.
With the weather continuing to turn against us, meat eaten and time running out we decided to pack up and head back down to the valley floor. We might be able to salvage 1-2 days of solid hunting down there and pray for better weather. We got up early, packed gear and with mixed emotions headed on the trail back down. I had heard/read every story about Tahr and Chamois hunting and they were all true. You could walk 500m and shoot a trophy, or be pushed back constantly by the weather for a week. The mountain truly protects them and only gives up glimpses of success to the hunter. What an amazing experience. I was hooked and it would not be the last time I made my way back to this incredible place.
It took us 9 hours to make it up and we hoped we could cut that time in half on the way down. The trail started wet and muddy but soon began to warm up as the sun cut through at lower elevation. We were moving much faster and it was starting to burn my knees and arms out from constantly using them as brakes to slow down in steep areas. On the way we had only seen trail markers for the first 50% of the track. On the way down we had markers the whole way… No wonder it took 9 hours up… We must have wandered onto some deer trails and lost the path.
When we made it back in under 3 hours, we collapsed again in the warm hut. What an awesome addition these huts make to wilderness areas. We hung our clothes to finally dry after a week of being constantly wet. I was especially excited for a dry sleeping bag! The Chamois cape was re-salted and hung to dry out. We also had a huge pan to fry up the last of the Chamois meat, mixed with onions and gravy… This was heaven. With food eaten and clothes dry, we went to look out over the valley floor in some open grassy areas for deer. There was deer sign everywhere and certain trails looked like highways.
It was then I looked up through my rifle scope and had one of the greatest wilderness experiences in my life. I looked up high about 4km away as the mountain top began to silhouette in front of the falling sun. I don’t know what prompted me to look in that direction, but I held the rifle in place and stared. A moment later I could make out the head of an animal pop up and with the sun’s rays from behind, it stood out clear as day. Slowly the animal moved higher and a lone Red deer hind was perched on this mountain top. Then, just as quickly as she appeared, another head popped up followed by another…. A group of half a dozen red deer then came into crystal clear view. Suddenly a huge Red Stag bounded around the group as if to corral the herd away from the open and back down to cover. HE WAS MASSIVE! For a wild head he had great genetics. My jaw hit the floor watching this all unfold as I had no idea the deer would move that high. What an amazing experience.
The sun set and I was completely satisfied in the afternoon trip. Back to the hut to rest the legs and body. We promised ourselves that no matter how much pain we were in or how tired we were, that we would head out before first light and sit over the grassy valley. The next thing I remember is my friends partner reminding us to wake up… The sun was coming up. The best we could do was grunt back.
“Are you guys going to get up and hunt?”
“Erghhhhhhh!”
“The suns coming up, you better get out right now!”
“Erghhhhh…”
I knew the only way I would get an animal is by putting in the time. I would not get to the end of this trip with a single regret and I wasn’t going to start by wasting a perfect morning hunt. We both literally ran out the hut door while getting dressed. I was pulling over my jacket and trying to tie my laces. We quickly made it to the edge of the valley floor and I made a 180 degree scan of the area… DEER! I see what appeared to be a young stag at 180m on the move and right about to walk behind cover… In a fraction of a second I dropped to the ground, aimed and *BOOM*. The deer had made half a body length of cover but we both heard the impact of that round with a heavy thud. With my heart already racing I see another one! I again drop and fire – The short mag drops a second!
It all happened in a heart-beat. If we had taken 3 seconds longer leaving the hut… If we hadn’t ran… If we had decided to sleep in… This opportunity would not have happened. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces. We ran down to find the deer. Just as we made it down to a small island of cover in the middle of the valley floor, we noticed a few sets of legs STANDING behind the trees… My friend called out that the deer were still alive. No way they took those 300wsm pills and stayed standing… I thought. We pulled around the cover and saw two deer take off towards the raging river… They were going to cross it! We moved up behind them and watched as they swam. As they both made the far bank, I handed the rifle to my friend and he settled and fired on the first then second. Two deer down! But neither was a stag. So what happened to mine? We moved back to the spot I hit him and there he was, not 10m from the area of impact. It turns out we shot up a whole small group of red deer.
I sat and admired my Stag. A young pointer with a beautiful golden colour. He was the first stag I have ever taken. He represented the months of planning, preparation and lost opportunities. Very few things have I worked this hard for in my life. This made him MY trophy.
The recovered bullet. Shot landed a little further back from the shoulders than I would have liked but the pill did the job. It was found on the opposite side of the chest cavity embedded in the skin.
Caped
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