Forgive me if this is too long, I've tried to split it into smaller chapters
to make it a bit easier.

Chapter one – Getting there, and a change in plans.

For some months now, a couple of mates and I have been planning our summer trip south. Usually we head down to already known areas for a bomb up on nanny Tahr, to do our bit so we don’t feel obliged to do so over the rut. This year with the advent of legalized helihunting, we felt that obligation removed, so set forth with different objectives.
Our goal was to find a new area suitable for walking access which was away from tracks and huts frequented by high numbers of hunters. A couple of spots looked promising, and called for closer inspection. Forgive me for not relaying all the trip details; we feel we were successful in accomplishing this, and wish to keep certain parts to ourselves.Though I'm sure many may recognise the area.
Our journey south was pleasant, punctuated by a spattering of good deeds as we made our way. First in line was an elderly American couple who happened to side swipe a single lane bridge with their left tire. Though the rim was destroyed, a quick change to the spare saw them on their way to Hokitika. Next was a middle aged English couple who had managed to destroy the engine on their camper half way up a hill, not a lot to be done other than stop traffic, remove it from the road and wait while they tried to sort it out with the AA. A pub feed and a cheap bed for the night saw us rested and ready for the hills next morning.
An early start and soon we were looking down on the clouds thanks to a short lift in a chopper. We had hoped to use the machine to save some route finding, and check if our intentions were feasible, however the cloud only allowed for a simple drop off, and we would have to nut our route out the old fashioned way, so without much fuss, we dropped over the side and started our decent.

Only an hour in, and we were looking at chamois at close quarters. This held a heap of promise, as we had taken limited food, planning instead to shoot what we needed as we went. This guy was safe however as we had no need at that stage.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9rCaFfuSIU
It soon became apparent that a good length of climbing rope and a harness would have been an advantage. Though we had a 100 feet of light rope for hauling our packs, it wasn’t up to trusting with our selves, and what could have been a quick route down was made slow with reversals and detours. Finally we made it too a point where we could see our goal, but it had taken far longer than planned, and a quick search forward without packs had us wondering if we had the time to cover the area we wanted. It became clear that it was not an area we could ever access quickly, and a decision was made to try and remake the ridgeline before dark and beat our way back to another hunting party who were being lifted out the next day. To be fair, we had been advised this was probably the case before starting, but had to have a look for ourselves, and I’d like to say thanks to those people, forum members included, who were free with their knowledge.
We past a reasonable looking Chamois back towards the other guys camp, but didn’t linger to look at it, as we were in others territory, and felt morally, that it wasn’t right to impinge on their hunting, so set up camp and waited for their return. They came on in before dark, and we set about introducing ourselves, and yarning until night fall, then hitched a ride next morning with their chopper back to our car. A quick breakfast and we were on the road again, for greener hunting grounds.

Chapter two - A new spot, and a meal delivered by an angel.

That evening we arrived in dribs and drabs at a hut well back from the road, first me taking advantage of the fitness kept up by my daily routine, then an hour later Lost n Late, who said Rex wasn’t far behind. Thirty minutes later though when he hadn’t shown up, I retied my laces and wandered back to find him. Some distance down the track, I found his pack, and it turned out he’d seen a Buck worth chasing, but it beat him and he returned empty handed.
That evening we watched a good number of Tahr in the cliffs across the valley, and made plans for the next days exploring, while trying to swallow a meal of rice, curry powder and freeze dried veggies. We were sure the next day would provide us with meat, however it wasn’t to be.
We decided to ignore the beast’s in easy reach, and instead head away from the popular areas into country less travelled. A route was chosen and we set forth, planning to climb to a high piece of exciting looking country a ridge or two away. I think it’s fair to say we chose a bad path, and five hours of climbing only gained us 3-400 meters of elevation, with a further 300 too reach the tops. We were also starting to get a view of the country we wanted to look at, and It didn’t look as good as the map promised, so in order to salvage the day, we turned downhill FAST, before making our way up valley to the next hut. Twelve hours after starting out that morning, and not having had time to stop for more than a cup of soup, we arrived, shattered and hungry, and boiled up another feed of rice. One thing the day had brought, was spectacular veiws of the Rata bloom.... simply amazing!


Determined to get some meat, Rex and I went for a quick hunt behind the hut, up high 7 Tahr grazed, but we had no time to get there, so concentrated on the country lower down. Soon a Chamois was spotted 300 yards ahead, watching our clumsy attempts from atop a rock, I rushed a shot and clean missed, confirmed by a hopeful search of the site. It was getting dark now, and we returned to the hut for a fresh start next morning.
What a difference a day makes, and a fresh start soon saw us spotting animals left right and center. Tahr in small groups on one side, Chamois, just as high and loving the sun further along the ridge. They were safe however, again we wanted to explore, and had hopes of picking up an easier meat animal than these, so we turned east, and hunted up valley. Not far along, and a whisper to get down came from Rex. Five hundred yards away a Chamois buck wandered, seemingly purposelessly across a meadow. I stayed put, to cover him, while Lost n late, and Rex closed in. He disappeared from sight behind a low boulder wall, and as time progressed, I became concerned as to why he hadn’t shown himself again. A glance around the area picked up movement some half K from where he should have been, and it was clear he had given the others the slip. Not being able to shoot because I was unaware of my mate’s position, I bolted across country hoping to catch him. Tearing across boulders, and low mounds of tute, and fern, I scrambled over the last obstacle to see him about to cross the river 250 yards away. A quickly flung shot slammed into a rock above and beyond him, and successfully turned him back my way, but out of sight. I waited, now with a decent rest for him to reappear, as he had to show either side of his hiding spot. No sign…… I started to grow impatient, and moved forward, slowly moving down slope, hoping to push him out of cover. Finally at 50 paces, he tried to cross the river, and a shot dropped him on a rock mid stream, which he promptly slid off, and disappeared into the fast flowing rapids.
The best I can describe the next ten minutes as, is akin to a scene from man versus wild. Tearing down stream trying to keep it in sight, while stripping off accoutrements and throwing them aside, first rifle, then video and camera, ammo etc all hastily thrown down before plunging into the water, a grasp and a miss as he swept past, then out again and off down stream looking for a head or leg, maybe a splash of brown, to show his path. Finally he caught around a rock, one leg sticking skyward, and I settled my breath, and found a way across and to him, to drag him to the far bank for gutting. I backpacked him homeward, and slowly found my kit amongst the rocks before meeting up with the others, who hadn’t seen me until I was on my way back. We hung him from a tree behind the hut, and planned how we would cook him.


We were very pleased with the numbers being spotted, and although it would be nice to pick up a trophy, it wasn’t really our intent, more just learning our way around, and finding animals. Another river beaconed, one without trail and we decided that the next day we would find our way towards its head. We had meat now, but were running low on everything else, as we didn’t want to head back to the base hut and lose a day, and our original intent had just been an overnight stay. This discussion was on our lips when some noise outside alerted us to the presence of a pair of young ladies from Canada who had wandered up valley for a day tramp from the other hut. We tried to make them feel welcome, and soon they settled in for lunch while we talked over the possibilities of retrieving our food. One of our visitors piped up, “I’m heading back down tonight, I can grab what you need and meet you in the morning with it. We couldn’t believe our luck. A plan was agreed on which saw us swapping her efforts, for some Chamois back steaks, as all she had was veggie’s and noodles, and was staying in the valley for a longish time. They went back the way they had come, and we spread out to explore different directions for the evening. I had hardly walked a hundred yards from the hut; when I looked down to see a Chamois buck grazing in the creek bed 50 paces in front of me. Quickly I loaded a round and brought the rifle to my shoulder, but evaluating his horns, I decided he was only around 8 inch’s. Instead I tried to get some pics, but he saw me about now and bounded into the bush. We found a route we felt was acceptable to get to the other river; all we needed again was a short climbing rope, as a slip would mean probable drowning, but the new river called with distant animals spotted from our side, and a couple of Bulls making their way up high out of the scrub at a closer range.We also found a pool of water, on an incredibly steep boulder stream, with little native trout like speicies where you would never think fish could get to, or live.
If anyone knows the exact speicies, i'd be interested to know. That evening the radio forecast was for a couple of days of rain which could make the river uncrossable, we changed our plans again, and decided to head back down valley and save Karen the walk.
When we arrived, the hut was scoured for pots and pans, cutlery produced, and a combination of our game and Karen’s vegetables, plus her cooking produced a magnificent meal of kiwifruit ad garlic marinated back steak, mashed potato, and fresh carrots, I'd never eaten so well in the hills. Next evening we came in from our days hunting to find a fine Chamois stew waiting to be served, and a new delight, in the form of Bannock, or Canadian style Damper, which for the next few days, we found could be eaten with everything, and even have fruit and sugar added for desert. On the last day, we awoke to find her cooking pancakes, with maple syrup! We were living like kings, and I sure didn’t want to leave. There’s one meal I haven’t mentioned yet, but will get too that with pictures later.


Chapter three - Back to the hunting and an unwelcome visitor


For the last few days we concentrated on searching the side creeks, and evaluating routes into the major bluff system nearby. On the morning the rain stopped, we sat at a hut window and spotted around 30 Tahr and Chamois in various locations. By around 9am, we had chosen our areas, with Rex heading to the first creek, while Lost n late and I went further up stream. We left Rex on the track, and walked less than a hundred paces when a shot rang out. Running back we found Rex standing over a Chamois with suicidal tendencies. It had tried to dodge him on the track, and the short view of its horn made Rex put it down, alas it only had the one and was an ancient barren nanny with a poor hook on closer examination, which was a disappointment.

Back to our route, and a quick but steep climb soon had us sitting below a waterfall wondering whether we should continue. A flash of brown had our rifles loaded, and a yearling Chamois decided to look at us from atop a large rock. Lost’s rifle boomed, and it slumped to lie on top, now we had to progress. A series of chimneys was found which allowed us to wedge our way up the 25 odd meters to the top of the waterfall, and from there I left Lost to butcher his kill while I explored a bit further.

I came back with the impression that it was worth a check in May, but rope would be a help, and Ice could be a problem. We aren’t great climbers, and as such, the climb down was a damn sight harder than getting up. Half way we stopped to have a swim in an inviting pool on a ledge below the top half of the waterfall. It defiantly was cold, but invigorating.
Lost doing some sort of James Bond impersonation.
We returned to the hut for lunch, and saw a note from Rex to tell us where he had gone. Off we wandered in his direction, and soon we were watching a Buck make his way across a face. Shortly we noticed Rex watching from a little distance, and made our way up to join him. He had had a brilliant afternoon, and had found a excellant rock Bivy from which to sit and watch the animals that walked past him. That day he’d seen 3 Chamois Bucks, one of at least 10 inch’s, but again missing a horn, and just over he hill, he informed us of 10-15 Tahr that were feeding. We wanted some meat to take home, so went after them, though we never got that far. A scant 200 meters walk, and we crested a rise, and came face to face with a truly impressive Bull. In the short time I had to view him, a saw huge horns, and massive body, and strangely enough, he seemed still to be in his winter coat. He never gave us a real chance at a shot. Though I could have shot him up the arse as he disappeared, the country held too much cover, and it would take nothing for him to disappear wounded. We cursed for a moment or two until the face above us came alive with Tahr, and a small war erupted as we dropped 4 of the madly racing beasts before they made the safety of the bush. We now had meat enough to carry out, and through luck or skill I know not, but all were yearlings in prime condition.
rex and a couple of juicy eaters.
A few days earlier, as Lost and I were sitting down for lunch, a gentleman entered the hut. I’m always wary of first impressions, but when we welcomed him, his one word reply made us both look at each other with quizzical expressions.
As the day’s progressed we became more concerned with his behavior. He wasn’t there for tramping it seemed, and he was quite fixated with a well known member of the local DOC staff. Rex also caught him hassling Karen about some clothes’ pegs he’d brought to the hut many years ago, wanting to know where they were. In short he was making us and the rest of the huts residents rather uncomfortable. We put in place an informal routine of keeping an eye on him, and made sure that our rifle bolts were always in our pockets, and that one of us always had sight of the rifles. Things were a little uncomfortable, and we extended our stay at the hut, as it seemed to make the other users more comfortable having us around. Finally he grew uneasy, and started to walk around the hut, and its various paths, then coming back to sit on the veranda, before doing another search of the area .Later he engaged me in a short conversation, in which I worked out that he was scared of the bridge on the way out, and with rain coming, wanted to be able to cross the stream instead, but couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. We sat and watched him toss and turn for the day, tension slowly rising, before he made his mind up and departed. We found out later that he was indeed a stalker, and knew something of the Doc member’s itinerary, and was waiting for her. A comment a day or so later, from a young American guy, that we could always have used our rifles, was chilling enough, and Rex jumped on it pretty quick, but we certainly got the feeling that that was what people were thinking.

Chapter four - All good things must end

Our final day arrived all too quick, and as we had fairly comprehensively achieved our goals, we decided a bit of R&R was in store, so slept in, then when the fog lifted, took Karen for a walk up one of the streams we’d been hunting where there was an absolute beauty swimming hole.

Karen proved her canadian toughness, by sitting under the glacier fed waterfall at its head for a pic.

We braved the water for as long as we could before finding a suitable rock to sunbathe on.

Alas, we had to be back early that afternoon, as we had a feast to prepare, and that evening feast we did. The meal consisted of roast leg of Tahr, boned and stuffed. Some cans of creamed corn left by previous visitors, again mashed potato with gravy,and two different types of bannock. All too be finished with rice pudding, though we gutsed ourselves so much on the first course, that the pudding waited until next morning.

Morning came too soon, and with a period of heavy rain overnight, a few of the trampers asked us to escort them too the road, so we said our goodbyes, and 6 of us left for our journey back to civilization. I felt privileged to have seen one of the best Rata flowerings in 40 years, and my first sighting of Hochstetter frogs, which have a really nice call at night, seem to add something to a summer evening in the mountains. Plus finding native fish living where no fish should be able.
I have few favored hunting spots, but I think this will become one.

More photos and video,less words

Looks like you guys had a great trip!!

I'll give you a call in the next few days, just got back to Nz - damn its good to be home!!!

Cheers
H

Shanks if thats what I can look forward too mate,I`m drooling now.

Excellent report both words and pics cobber,impressed!

Fantastic trip Shanks

More pics of the chick and the hunt and less of the dudes! hahaha
Well done, I'm soo jealous.