HuntingGold
AH elite
- Joined
- Dec 8, 2012
- Messages
- 1,524
- Reaction score
- 3,451
- Location
- South-Central Oregon
- Media
- 149
- Hunted
- South Africa, Argentina, Romania, United States (Oregon, Washington, Idaho, California and Wyoming)
Before I get started, this is not a term paper, or anything meant for professional publication. This story is meant to convey the sights and experiences I had while recently in Spain. Therefore, the self-appointed editors of AfricaHunting should keep on scrolling. No need to read any further as this story might frustrate you.
***
We were half-way out and my guide was becoming frustrated by the thick brush and dead ends we were encountering. To further the frustration, he had smacked his kneecap on a rock while scaling our way up to my first ibex an hour earlier. This necessitated a brief stop while that funny bone type pain rippled through his body. Now he had my ibex on his back and was leading the way out, or at least attempting to. The mountain had different ideas. Steep drop offs, box canyons, and thick, impenetrable brush. Finally, it became apparent that we had to suck it up and go straight down, carefully choosing each step, using the brush as temporary hand holds in case our feet gave way to a fall. Once to the bottom, the small climb out was much better. This slope was more open, though still just as steep.
At this point, I was enjoying it all. In fact I was somewhat ecstatic that I had been training for four months to be here. Since retiring from law enforcement, I had taken a job that kept me in my little four by four pickup for ten hours a day or more, driving the mountain roads of southern Oregon to provide private security for several timber companies. The driving kept me in constant contact with my lunch box and from getting the exercise I needed. My waistline grew to the point that all my clothes were beyond snug. I had realized the problem for years but the additional income was addicting. This additional income allowed me to be here on this mountain, chasing ibex in Spain.
At the beginning of September, I let my security license expire and left the woods to focus on my health. I started running again and changed my diet. I had been addicted to Mountain Dew for over forty years but was able to drop that nearly cold turkey. I climbed the nearby mountains to prepare for this hunt. As a result of my work, I had lost over twenty-five pounds, and now I was happy to be on this mountain and seeing the horns of my first ibex poking out of Sergio’s backpack. We took a moment to snap a photo, perhaps the photo can relay what my words cannot.
Shannon and I started our trip by driving to Reno and then flying to Atlanta, then on to Paris and finally to Malaga, Spain. We stayed in old town Malaga and explored the old city for two days while wearing off the jet lag. Our guide Sergio picked us up and drove us north to the town of Mojacar where we stayed while hunting southeastern ibex. After lunch at the hotel, I again joined my guide to make my first trip to a nearby mountain. We joined two game scouts and began looking for ibex. We would drive from point to point and would glass for ibex. I enjoyed seeing the females and young males after years of looking forward to this hunt.
An hour before dark, Sebastian, the eldest game scout, received a phone call from a man working on a dozer who said he had just seen two big males. We drove down the mountain to another point and started glassing. We immediately found the two. One was laying on a rock looking out our direction. Sergio said this male was likely a solid silver medal. I was on contract for bronze, but admittedly had a little extra cash to upgrade if needed. The second male was breathtaking. I had no idea they made southeastern ibex this big. Sergio said this one was not only gold, but super gold. Unbelievably HUGE. While I could afford the one on the rock, Sergio said we would not go after him because he was afraid of scaring the super gold one away. He had a client coming in in just a few days that likely would take this one. After a few more minutes of admiration, we left these two where they were and moved on down the mountain.
We parked at a chain gate and walked out an old road to a good vantage point. Quickly Sergio spotted a good male and we quickly started to close the distance, sometimes by following the old road and sometimes by cutting through the brush on the switchbacks. We finally ended up on a little point near some old abandoned buildings. I set up the rifle and just as I was finding the ibex in the scope, they discovered he only had one horn. He looked really good in the scope but I wasn't here for a one horned critter. We started to pick up the gear when one of the guys spotted a nice male on an adjacent hillside nearly 300 yards away. We moved ten yards and set up for this ibex. As I was trying to find him in the scope, I continuously heard negra negra as the guides talked excitedly to each other. I found the black chested male in my scope and tried to settle the bobbing cross hairs on his chest. The cross hairs kept bobbing from one side to the next. I called for some elbow support. Sergio somehow wedged the long shooting sticks under my right elbow. The cross hairs immediately settled and the rifle fired.
I didn't hear a bullet hit but heard Sergio say, “he’s wounded, reload, reload.” I had never fired a Blaser before and my muscle memory had me unsuccessfully trying to lift the bolt. I realized my error and pulled straight back then pushed forward. As the bolt closed, I heard Sergio say he was down.
We took stock of our current situation and realized there was no safe way to get the ibex off the mountain tonight, the light was fading too fast. The guides then surveyed the situation and came up with a plan for recovery, though it had to be tomorrow. I looked it over and it appeared to be fairly straight forward. I was wrong.
The next morning Sergio and I headed out to collect the ibex. I was excited to see my trophy! I found the mountain to be steeper and brushier than I had counted on. Some of the brush had thorns, sometimes lots of thorns. I was glad I had taken the advice of wearing gloves. After considerable effort, we reached my trophy. We found he had a broken off tip and was worn on the other. He was aged at eleven years old and gorgeous. I love his character and I submit the photos for you.
***
We were half-way out and my guide was becoming frustrated by the thick brush and dead ends we were encountering. To further the frustration, he had smacked his kneecap on a rock while scaling our way up to my first ibex an hour earlier. This necessitated a brief stop while that funny bone type pain rippled through his body. Now he had my ibex on his back and was leading the way out, or at least attempting to. The mountain had different ideas. Steep drop offs, box canyons, and thick, impenetrable brush. Finally, it became apparent that we had to suck it up and go straight down, carefully choosing each step, using the brush as temporary hand holds in case our feet gave way to a fall. Once to the bottom, the small climb out was much better. This slope was more open, though still just as steep.
At this point, I was enjoying it all. In fact I was somewhat ecstatic that I had been training for four months to be here. Since retiring from law enforcement, I had taken a job that kept me in my little four by four pickup for ten hours a day or more, driving the mountain roads of southern Oregon to provide private security for several timber companies. The driving kept me in constant contact with my lunch box and from getting the exercise I needed. My waistline grew to the point that all my clothes were beyond snug. I had realized the problem for years but the additional income was addicting. This additional income allowed me to be here on this mountain, chasing ibex in Spain.
At the beginning of September, I let my security license expire and left the woods to focus on my health. I started running again and changed my diet. I had been addicted to Mountain Dew for over forty years but was able to drop that nearly cold turkey. I climbed the nearby mountains to prepare for this hunt. As a result of my work, I had lost over twenty-five pounds, and now I was happy to be on this mountain and seeing the horns of my first ibex poking out of Sergio’s backpack. We took a moment to snap a photo, perhaps the photo can relay what my words cannot.
Shannon and I started our trip by driving to Reno and then flying to Atlanta, then on to Paris and finally to Malaga, Spain. We stayed in old town Malaga and explored the old city for two days while wearing off the jet lag. Our guide Sergio picked us up and drove us north to the town of Mojacar where we stayed while hunting southeastern ibex. After lunch at the hotel, I again joined my guide to make my first trip to a nearby mountain. We joined two game scouts and began looking for ibex. We would drive from point to point and would glass for ibex. I enjoyed seeing the females and young males after years of looking forward to this hunt.
An hour before dark, Sebastian, the eldest game scout, received a phone call from a man working on a dozer who said he had just seen two big males. We drove down the mountain to another point and started glassing. We immediately found the two. One was laying on a rock looking out our direction. Sergio said this male was likely a solid silver medal. I was on contract for bronze, but admittedly had a little extra cash to upgrade if needed. The second male was breathtaking. I had no idea they made southeastern ibex this big. Sergio said this one was not only gold, but super gold. Unbelievably HUGE. While I could afford the one on the rock, Sergio said we would not go after him because he was afraid of scaring the super gold one away. He had a client coming in in just a few days that likely would take this one. After a few more minutes of admiration, we left these two where they were and moved on down the mountain.
We parked at a chain gate and walked out an old road to a good vantage point. Quickly Sergio spotted a good male and we quickly started to close the distance, sometimes by following the old road and sometimes by cutting through the brush on the switchbacks. We finally ended up on a little point near some old abandoned buildings. I set up the rifle and just as I was finding the ibex in the scope, they discovered he only had one horn. He looked really good in the scope but I wasn't here for a one horned critter. We started to pick up the gear when one of the guys spotted a nice male on an adjacent hillside nearly 300 yards away. We moved ten yards and set up for this ibex. As I was trying to find him in the scope, I continuously heard negra negra as the guides talked excitedly to each other. I found the black chested male in my scope and tried to settle the bobbing cross hairs on his chest. The cross hairs kept bobbing from one side to the next. I called for some elbow support. Sergio somehow wedged the long shooting sticks under my right elbow. The cross hairs immediately settled and the rifle fired.
I didn't hear a bullet hit but heard Sergio say, “he’s wounded, reload, reload.” I had never fired a Blaser before and my muscle memory had me unsuccessfully trying to lift the bolt. I realized my error and pulled straight back then pushed forward. As the bolt closed, I heard Sergio say he was down.
We took stock of our current situation and realized there was no safe way to get the ibex off the mountain tonight, the light was fading too fast. The guides then surveyed the situation and came up with a plan for recovery, though it had to be tomorrow. I looked it over and it appeared to be fairly straight forward. I was wrong.
The next morning Sergio and I headed out to collect the ibex. I was excited to see my trophy! I found the mountain to be steeper and brushier than I had counted on. Some of the brush had thorns, sometimes lots of thorns. I was glad I had taken the advice of wearing gloves. After considerable effort, we reached my trophy. We found he had a broken off tip and was worn on the other. He was aged at eleven years old and gorgeous. I love his character and I submit the photos for you.
