NZ Hunter – August 2019

him about where he had hunted and

telling him where we planned to go, he

left and Dad told us he was satisfied

we would still have plenty of hunting

spots to check out.

After a good night’s sleep on the NeoAir

mattress with Bella tucked in between

us, each of us downed a Backcountry

smoothie and we were on the move at

5.45am. We left camp, walking down the

river with Bella nosing to and fro in front

of us. With the intention of locating a

stag up on the valley sides, we headed

along, with Dad stopping to roar every

ten minutes or so. Unfortunately, the

only replies he got were high above

us and in unreachable areas so we

decided to turn to the left and head

up a steep creek towards a large face

that Dad had discovered previously

on Google Earth.

It took an hour of slipping on wet rocks

and climbing small waterfalls before we

got there but thanks to daylight saving, it

was only just full light. The slip had plenty

of grass but we soon determined that

there were no deer above us. We decided

to make the most of the view and have

our breakfast of salami and cheese

sandwiches there, followed by Cadbury

flakes. All the time, Dad was letting out

roars but much to our disappointment

there were no replies from the creek

head.

Feeling a bit flat at the lack of action we

were not particularly looking forward to

the slippery walk back down the creek,

so we spent some time finalising our

plans for the rest of the hunt. After some

discussion, we decided to head back to

camp to pack up our gear and go for a

fly camp up the river where many creeks

branched off, all leading to good hunting.

With our course of action set, we moved

back down the creek to camp with a

spring in our step.

This optimism may have had an effect

because as soon as we cleared the creek

and started the walk back upriver to

camp, Hugo announced that he could see

some pigs. Sure enough, on a slip across

the river only 100 metres away, three

good-looking porkers were feeding in

the morning sun. Visions of delicious

pulled pork sprang to mind as Dad

sank to the ground, found a good

rest, lined up the scope and pulled

the trigger.

Watching with my fingers in my ears, I

saw a pig drop and roll to the base of the

hill, which would make retrieving it easy.

The other two pigs had mixed reactions

to the death of their companion; one

raced off the side of the slip into the bush

in an instant. The other loitered for several

minutes, dawdling to the top of the slip

as if it was lost, but it soon disappeared

as we raced over to check out the kill.

Upon inspection, we determined the

pig’s age to be about one year old.

Dad had bagged the pig with a head

shot, so I was given a lesson on how to

remove the forelegs. Those, along with

the hind legs and back steaks gave us

quite a haul of meat, even if we didn’t get

a deer later on. Returning to camp, we

left the meat to cool in the shade before

whipping up a dahl curry for lunch from

a sachet. We selected the food we would

take with us on the fly trip and stored the

meat in a cool place.

With our tent and packs loaded onto

the bike, we headed upriver several

kilometres before ditching the quad

to start the real climb to get to our

temporary camp. On the journey

upstream we heard many tantalizing roars

but unfortunately all of them came from

up the vertical sides of the gorge and

none of Dad’s roaring could persuade the

stags to come down.

After a hard slog, we finally made it

to where we would be pitching our

tent and we dumped our packs on

the ground wearily.

We couldn’t rest yet

though, the light was

already fading

and there was just enough left to slip up

a side creek and see if anything would

appear. We crept up the creek on our toes,

aware that the small clearings on either

side of us might suddenly reveal a deer.

After fifteen minutes of stalking, the creek

ended in a large grassy slip with fingers

of native bush running down it – perfect

deer country. The three of us settled

down to wait and watch while Dad roared

in an attempt to get a reply from a nearby

stag.

We sat there for half an hour as the

remaining light faded until we had no

choice but to accept the inevitable.

We got up, stretching after the period

of inactivity, unable to keep the

disappointed looks off our faces. We

attached our head torches and plodded

back down the creek to set up the tent

and get dinner on. As we ate our meals,

we discussed our plan for the next day.

The other creeks we had planned

to hunt were unusable as we had

spotted a tent in the fork that led

to them, meaning that other hunters

had been through the area. The next

morning’s hunt was the only one we had

left as we had to be back at the car by

lunch time to head out.

Getting ready

for the long

trek back to

the quad

Hugo,Dad and

Bella struggling

down a difficult

patch of creek after

our first hunt

48 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019

him about where he had hunted and

telling him where we planned to go, he

left and Dad told us he was satisfied

we would still have plenty of hunting

spots to check out.

After a good night’s sleep on the NeoAir

mattress with Bella tucked in between

us, each of us downed a Backcountry

smoothie and we were on the move at

5.45am. We left camp, walking down the

river with Bella nosing to and fro in front

of us. With the intention of locating a

stag up on the valley sides, we headed

along, with Dad stopping to roar every

ten minutes or so. Unfortunately, the

only replies he got were high above

us and in unreachable areas so we

decided to turn to the left and head

up a steep creek towards a large face

that Dad had discovered previously

on Google Earth.

It took an hour of slipping on wet rocks

and climbing small waterfalls before we

got there but thanks to daylight saving, it

was only just full light. The slip had plenty

of grass but we soon determined that

there were no deer above us. We decided

to make the most of the view and have

our breakfast of salami and cheese

sandwiches there, followed by Cadbury

flakes. All the time, Dad was letting out

roars but much to our disappointment

there were no replies from the creek

head.

Feeling a bit flat at the lack of action we

were not particularly looking forward to

the slippery walk back down the creek,

so we spent some time finalising our

plans for the rest of the hunt. After some

discussion, we decided to head back to

camp to pack up our gear and go for a

fly camp up the river where many creeks

branched off, all leading to good hunting.

With our course of action set, we moved

back down the creek to camp with a

spring in our step.

This optimism may have had an effect

because as soon as we cleared the creek

and started the walk back upriver to

camp, Hugo announced that he could see

some pigs. Sure enough, on a slip across

the river only 100 metres away, three

good-looking porkers were feeding in

the morning sun. Visions of delicious

pulled pork sprang to mind as Dad

sank to the ground, found a good

rest, lined up the scope and pulled

the trigger.

Watching with my fingers in my ears, I

saw a pig drop and roll to the base of the

hill, which would make retrieving it easy.

The other two pigs had mixed reactions

to the death of their companion; one

raced off the side of the slip into the bush

in an instant. The other loitered for several

minutes, dawdling to the top of the slip

as if it was lost, but it soon disappeared

as we raced over to check out the kill.

Upon inspection, we determined the

pig’s age to be about one year old.

Dad had bagged the pig with a head

shot, so I was given a lesson on how to

remove the forelegs. Those, along with

the hind legs and back steaks gave us

quite a haul of meat, even if we didn’t get

a deer later on. Returning to camp, we

left the meat to cool in the shade before

whipping up a dahl curry for lunch from

a sachet. We selected the food we would

take with us on the fly trip and stored the

meat in a cool place.

With our tent and packs loaded onto

the bike, we headed upriver several

kilometres before ditching the quad

to start the real climb to get to our

temporary camp. On the journey

upstream we heard many tantalizing roars

but unfortunately all of them came from

up the vertical sides of the gorge and

none of Dad’s roaring could persuade the

stags to come down.

After a hard slog, we finally made it

to where we would be pitching our

tent and we dumped our packs on

the ground wearily.

We couldn’t rest yet

though, the light was

already fading

and there was just enough left to slip up

a side creek and see if anything would

appear. We crept up the creek on our toes,

aware that the small clearings on either

side of us might suddenly reveal a deer.

After fifteen minutes of stalking, the creek

ended in a large grassy slip with fingers

of native bush running down it – perfect

deer country. The three of us settled

down to wait and watch while Dad roared

in an attempt to get a reply from a nearby

stag.

We sat there for half an hour as the

remaining light faded until we had no

choice but to accept the inevitable.

We got up, stretching after the period

of inactivity, unable to keep the

disappointed looks off our faces. We

attached our head torches and plodded

back down the creek to set up the tent

and get dinner on. As we ate our meals,

we discussed our plan for the next day.

The other creeks we had planned

to hunt were unusable as we had

spotted a tent in the fork that led

to them, meaning that other hunters

had been through the area. The next

morning’s hunt was the only one we had

left as we had to be back at the car by

lunch time to head out.

Getting ready
for the long
trek back to
the quad

Hugo,Dad and

Bella struggling

down a difficult

patch of creek after

our first hunt

48 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019