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AH elite
Following our first sleepless night in the freezing wilderness, we rose before dawn, hunger now making its presence felt. Providing more wood was a welcome distraction, and warm water would have to do for sustenance until someone managed to shoot something.
The team was split into three groups – those who had tried to hunt capercaillie would remain in camp, improving our shelters and stocking up on firewood to ensure we’d be less cold the next night, while the other two groups would head off to try and hunt a moose. I joined a moose-hunting party, led by Tommy.
Tommy led us away from camp, hunting the delta area, stopping frequently to call using his traditional birch bark instrument. Heading across the delta, we started climbing one of the surrounding hills, each step more arduous than the last. As we found our rhythm, following in Tommy’s footsteps. I was constantly scanning the harsh environment for signs of movement with my Leica Geovid 8×42 rangefinder binoculars but no such luck. Although they are designed with an inbuilt rangefinding tool, these are first and foremost a pair of binoculars and as such, are built to the same quality as you would expect from any Leica product.
We had by now reached a plateau and a clearing in the forest by following a centuries’ old Sámi trail. The plateau, with its long swathes of golden grass, flattened by frost, catching the last of the sun’s warmth. “We’ll call once more, then we must go back or it will be too dark,” Tommy whispered. We couched down, almost dozing off as soon as the weight was off our legs, as we listened to Tommy’s melodic calls. The silence in between each call was extraordinary, and it felt as though we truly were at the ends of the earth.
“Nothing,” Tommy said, as he started to get up, then dropped just as quickly. “Bull moose,” he whispered while pointing ahead of us. Danish journalist Nikolaj Trier, who we’d agreed would be our rifle man, slowly raised himself on one knee, and steadied himself.
I cautiously raised my Leica Geovid HD-Bs and saw a huge bull moose, not more than 60m away, standing broadside to us. The beauty of using Leica rangefinder binoculars is the inbuilt Advanced Ballistic Compensation technology, combining an optical lens lining with the functionality of a rangefinder. Almost before I registered its size, the shot rang out. The bull seemed not to react at all, simply turning slowly to face in the opposite direction. Nikolaj shot again, and the bull dropped.
We sat for a moment, too stunned to speak, before Tommy leapt into action. “Now we must move fast. It’s getting dark.” Bolstered by the sure knowledge that we’d eat, we set about gralloching the vast creature, a 19-pointer. Buoyed by the success of the hunt, cold and hunger were temporarily forgotten as we made our way as quickly as possible back to camp in the growing darkness.
The camp was a fine sight – a fire illuminating the faces of our fellow hunters as we approached, and a welcoming smell of meat hitting our nostrils, indicating that both parties had succeeded in providing for the team. A warm broth of tongue was the most reviving thing I’ve ever tasted and as we drank that, we heard how the other hunting party had got on. A calf – missed with the first shot – had been taken. It was very welcome news indeed, for a calf, though still enough to feed us for several days, was also small enough to quarter and bring back to camp.
Just as welcome was the sight of our shelter, now thickly packed with moss, and clearly a much more comfortable prospect than the previous night. Suddenly the exhaustion, hunger and cold seemed to melt away, as the team discussed their day, the sensation of pure achievement lifting everyone’s spirits. We gorged ourselves on filet, skewered on twigs, and quenched our thirst on the reviving broth. After 48 hours without food and sleep, and non-stop activity, the relief flooded over me.
The cold that night was just as brutal, but with full bellies and more moss to stop the wind rushing through and the cold creeping up from the earth below, everyone got a few hours’ of proper sleep, even with our fire-watching shifts.
The next day, a party went out to try their luck for capercaillie, while the rest of us had a masterclass in survival from Conrad, before a decision was made to break camp and move on to the next place. This time, we had moose to carry. Luckily for our weary legs, some of the journey was made by canoe, on the delta, giving us the opportunity to admire this magical wilderness. We prepared ourselves for another cold night, knowing we wouldn’t have time to build up the shelters to the high standards of the previous camp.
Imagine, then, our surprise and relief when Tommy led us straight to a cabin! Simple bunks, a fireplace and, best of all, the place came complete with a case of beer. That night we truly feasted on moose, the hardships of the previous days forgotten in our elation at the sheer excitement of having survived two nights in the Arctic, with no sleeping bags, no shelter and no food. Warm, dry and replete, we slept deeply, knowing we’d have to hike out 15km carrying the bulk of a moose calf with us.
The organizers, however, had one final surprise in store for us. The next morning, after having packed our bags and prepared ourselves for the challenge of the march ahead, the “whuumph-whuumph-whuumph” of a helicopter was heard. This was our ride home, with one stop: the bull moose. We landed as close to it as possible, attaching the bull to the bottom of the chopper with rope, and slowly made our way back to base camp, the bull moose swinging below us.
It was, without doubt, the most extraordinary extraction from a hunting ground I have ever witnessed – but then it was probably the most extraordinary hunting trip I’ve ever been part of. Hunger, cold, exhaustion certainly tested us to the edge, but being at the edge of the world, in this untouched, wilderness, with a team of hunters who were prepared to give their everything – that wasn’t testing, that was pure adventure.
Author:
Simon K. Barr
Although in his childhood, he often went hunting with his father, Simon’s first love was fly fishing. Later he also developed a passion for hunting on dry land. For Leica, as well as various international hunting magazines, he reports his hunting adventures, which lead him to some of the most remote regions of the world. He loves the great challenge that hunting offers. Together with his wife the 36-year-old hunter lives in Scotland, and he is already looking forward to taking his newborn daughter hunting for the first time.
