I have a few friends (really I do) who share the deer stalking bug with me.
It’s become an annual trip now to head North to Scotland in November for a crack at the red hinds. We start talking and planning as soon as the previous year’s trip ends, and it’s fair to say we all look forward to it through the summer months. We’re all getting older and the realisation that every year passing increases the likelihood of ill health drives us all on to keep at it. Enjoy every day !
Like all of these things, it’s a logistical nightmare with two of us living in the SE, one in the Swansea area and myself in the E Mids. It makes transportation there ‘interesting’. This year it was my turn to load up my car with enough kit to stock a small shop and take three of us to Penrith where we’d meet the third partner, but he caught us out by going stalking in southern Scotland and thereby meeting us at the Gourock Ferry port for the short hop off the Clyde. It’s along way to that ferry - departing my house at 0730hrs we didn’t get aboard the ferry until about 1500hrs. That’s a hell of a long time trapped in a car with someone who can impersonate Leonard Rossiter playing ‘le petomaine’ (if you don’t know the character I urge you to look him up)
Nevertheless we all managed to get to our accommodation safely, and unpack the vehicles before settling into a nights sleep ready for an early start on the next day.
At this point I must mention that our group falls neatly into two categories. There’s myself and one other chap that are reasonably fit, although we do have some injuries between us. My own dodgy knee was compounded this year by a slip and fall on some wet grass whilst wearing inappropriate footwear a week before departure resulting in a couple of cracked ribs. I’d have to see how I got on - the first thing I noticed was I couldn’t get Vorn plus rifle onto my shoulders without help. Great news. The other two of the group have both had fairly recent heart issues and remind me very much of ‘Mortimer and Whitehouse’ only they’re stalking and not fishing. Their day starts with enough pills to make them rattle, but the ghillie knows their limitations and helps them get around any issues.
Unfortunately for myself and the other guy, we end up with a ghillie who is part human (fell runner) and part mountain goat. My explanation of ribs and knee were met with a helpful ‘aye’ and I knew this was going to be hard work. But, never give up was motto I once heard, and as I was paying for the privilege I decided it would have to be so now. Sometimes we stalk as a lead rifle with the ghillie and the other person is in a seat somewhere, and on this occasion that’s the way it was. I had the easy afternoon planned which I was grateful for, and therefore the morning session was mine.
We drove some way North and ended up beside a major A road with a fearsome fell to my right. After a scan, the ghillie declared there were deer on the hill and so we parked up and began foot stalking into position. A bit of snow had fallen, not anything that would stop us, but it made for interesting climbing as we started to go up. As usual, dressing to keep body temp up means that any uphill exertion brings on a sweat, but I’ve learned something over the years and this time I wasn’t too heavily dressed. After a climb lasting an eternity to me (probably about 30/40 mins) the ghillie and I were in low cloud. This meant that the usual thermal devices were rendered useless, and we found ourselves in position to be able to see the group of deer, but probably 100/150 feet too high. A descent was called for. Now - I’m getting older and I still like to say ‘I fell over’ rather than ‘I’ve had a fall’ but the descent on snow meant I had about four falls and a submission when I landed on my cracked ribs, before we got down to a position that would allow a shot.
Let me describe as best as I can - rocky outcrops, severe slope from left to right, snow covered ground and a group of two hinds and two calves were what I could eventually see when I’d got my breath back. All this within a few hundred metres of a major Scottish A road. What a great place to stalk. I knew from the location we were at that recovering the larger deer would be very difficult for the ghillie (I was under strict instructions not to undo my ribs) and ethically would leave two orphans so it was no surprise when I was asked to take the lowest calf.
This presented a shot of about 170 metres - not something I wasn’t used to, but it meant I had to get breathing under control and calm myself down in order to be able to control the trigger release. I was also against a sloping rock which wasn’t a bad rest but unfortunately was reminding me of my rib issue. I managed the shot and that one dropped on the spot. It was as if its legs had been taken from underneath it - which I suppose is what a .300 Winmag shooting a 180 grain Barnes TSX is designed to deliver. The rest of the group hastily decided to make an escape uphill and steadily moved in and out of vision as they walked upwards towards the upper reaches of this area. Now and again I’d spot them then lose them behind rocky outcrops and other bits that robbed me of vision, but I did manage to keep a fair idea of where their track would reveal them and sure enough they all popped out at around 200m away. I got the rifle back into my shoulder and manoeuvred myself into a better position on the rock and realised that now the extra altitude they’d gained meant I had to forgo the classic rifle grip on the forend for a fist support which brought the rifle up to the the correct spot. Now a bit of patience was required as the second calf was backside towards me, then three quarters away before eventually giving me a classic broadside shot to the heart.
This one also dropped to the shot displaying the classic heart shot ‘leap into the air’ before crashing down onto the grass and gracefully sliding off the ledge, cartwheeling down the snow covered hill for at least a couple of hundred meters, eventually coming to rest at the bottom of the hill below the first deer. It did look like something I’ve seen in videos, and reminded me of the very unlucky priest in Father Ted who gets called on his phone at the most awkward times - whilst skiing he did a similar job to my deer.
After congratulating each other the ghillie sensibly suggested I go back to the truck and bring it up to near where he could drag the deer to the roadside to recover. I was feeling very pleased with the outcome of the session and now began to realise just how far we’d stalked into this group. It was probably near a third of a mile back to the truck, but it meant crossing a burn which seemed to have green slimy rocks everywhere and no gaps able to be jumped by an agile 63 year old (if I could find one). This added to my excitement somewhat as I eventually decided that I’d just go for it and ended up with one leg on a slimy green rock, and the other leg still on the grass bank behind me with the only option of ‘going for it’. I did, and it all worked out well, but I’ll be honest I was concerned for my long term health this point ! Both mental and physical !
And now the Gods of stalking decided that I’d have enough good luck and it began to rain. Not light rain either, but big gobs of rain that a few metres higher would’ve been snow fell on me as I followed the inner edge of the crash barrier back to the truck. One other thing I realised is this - the crash barrier is not placed with much even ground next to it, and after about 10 mins of walking with my left ankle substantially lower and more bent that my right, I gave up, descended back to the level of the burn and followed that back to the truck. I kept saying to myself ‘the truck is only 400m away - I can’t be bothered to break out the Goretex shell’ and that was another mistake, as once back at the truck I realised I was soaked through. Idiot.
Anyhow, the truck started well enough but the rain had made it bog down so I had to engage 4 wheel drive to get it back onto the road, then drive it about half a mile to meet the ghillie who was just bringing the second carcass to the road edge as I pulled up - it looked as if we’d timed this to perfection.
Another wait for a couple of mins for traffic to ease and then it was both deer in the truck, heating on and me gently steaming as we drove back.
Another great day in Scotland - next year’s trip is already planned and booked, and I hope we have as good a time again.
It’s become an annual trip now to head North to Scotland in November for a crack at the red hinds. We start talking and planning as soon as the previous year’s trip ends, and it’s fair to say we all look forward to it through the summer months. We’re all getting older and the realisation that every year passing increases the likelihood of ill health drives us all on to keep at it. Enjoy every day !
Like all of these things, it’s a logistical nightmare with two of us living in the SE, one in the Swansea area and myself in the E Mids. It makes transportation there ‘interesting’. This year it was my turn to load up my car with enough kit to stock a small shop and take three of us to Penrith where we’d meet the third partner, but he caught us out by going stalking in southern Scotland and thereby meeting us at the Gourock Ferry port for the short hop off the Clyde. It’s along way to that ferry - departing my house at 0730hrs we didn’t get aboard the ferry until about 1500hrs. That’s a hell of a long time trapped in a car with someone who can impersonate Leonard Rossiter playing ‘le petomaine’ (if you don’t know the character I urge you to look him up)
Nevertheless we all managed to get to our accommodation safely, and unpack the vehicles before settling into a nights sleep ready for an early start on the next day.
At this point I must mention that our group falls neatly into two categories. There’s myself and one other chap that are reasonably fit, although we do have some injuries between us. My own dodgy knee was compounded this year by a slip and fall on some wet grass whilst wearing inappropriate footwear a week before departure resulting in a couple of cracked ribs. I’d have to see how I got on - the first thing I noticed was I couldn’t get Vorn plus rifle onto my shoulders without help. Great news. The other two of the group have both had fairly recent heart issues and remind me very much of ‘Mortimer and Whitehouse’ only they’re stalking and not fishing. Their day starts with enough pills to make them rattle, but the ghillie knows their limitations and helps them get around any issues.
Unfortunately for myself and the other guy, we end up with a ghillie who is part human (fell runner) and part mountain goat. My explanation of ribs and knee were met with a helpful ‘aye’ and I knew this was going to be hard work. But, never give up was motto I once heard, and as I was paying for the privilege I decided it would have to be so now. Sometimes we stalk as a lead rifle with the ghillie and the other person is in a seat somewhere, and on this occasion that’s the way it was. I had the easy afternoon planned which I was grateful for, and therefore the morning session was mine.
We drove some way North and ended up beside a major A road with a fearsome fell to my right. After a scan, the ghillie declared there were deer on the hill and so we parked up and began foot stalking into position. A bit of snow had fallen, not anything that would stop us, but it made for interesting climbing as we started to go up. As usual, dressing to keep body temp up means that any uphill exertion brings on a sweat, but I’ve learned something over the years and this time I wasn’t too heavily dressed. After a climb lasting an eternity to me (probably about 30/40 mins) the ghillie and I were in low cloud. This meant that the usual thermal devices were rendered useless, and we found ourselves in position to be able to see the group of deer, but probably 100/150 feet too high. A descent was called for. Now - I’m getting older and I still like to say ‘I fell over’ rather than ‘I’ve had a fall’ but the descent on snow meant I had about four falls and a submission when I landed on my cracked ribs, before we got down to a position that would allow a shot.
Let me describe as best as I can - rocky outcrops, severe slope from left to right, snow covered ground and a group of two hinds and two calves were what I could eventually see when I’d got my breath back. All this within a few hundred metres of a major Scottish A road. What a great place to stalk. I knew from the location we were at that recovering the larger deer would be very difficult for the ghillie (I was under strict instructions not to undo my ribs) and ethically would leave two orphans so it was no surprise when I was asked to take the lowest calf.
This presented a shot of about 170 metres - not something I wasn’t used to, but it meant I had to get breathing under control and calm myself down in order to be able to control the trigger release. I was also against a sloping rock which wasn’t a bad rest but unfortunately was reminding me of my rib issue. I managed the shot and that one dropped on the spot. It was as if its legs had been taken from underneath it - which I suppose is what a .300 Winmag shooting a 180 grain Barnes TSX is designed to deliver. The rest of the group hastily decided to make an escape uphill and steadily moved in and out of vision as they walked upwards towards the upper reaches of this area. Now and again I’d spot them then lose them behind rocky outcrops and other bits that robbed me of vision, but I did manage to keep a fair idea of where their track would reveal them and sure enough they all popped out at around 200m away. I got the rifle back into my shoulder and manoeuvred myself into a better position on the rock and realised that now the extra altitude they’d gained meant I had to forgo the classic rifle grip on the forend for a fist support which brought the rifle up to the the correct spot. Now a bit of patience was required as the second calf was backside towards me, then three quarters away before eventually giving me a classic broadside shot to the heart.
This one also dropped to the shot displaying the classic heart shot ‘leap into the air’ before crashing down onto the grass and gracefully sliding off the ledge, cartwheeling down the snow covered hill for at least a couple of hundred meters, eventually coming to rest at the bottom of the hill below the first deer. It did look like something I’ve seen in videos, and reminded me of the very unlucky priest in Father Ted who gets called on his phone at the most awkward times - whilst skiing he did a similar job to my deer.
After congratulating each other the ghillie sensibly suggested I go back to the truck and bring it up to near where he could drag the deer to the roadside to recover. I was feeling very pleased with the outcome of the session and now began to realise just how far we’d stalked into this group. It was probably near a third of a mile back to the truck, but it meant crossing a burn which seemed to have green slimy rocks everywhere and no gaps able to be jumped by an agile 63 year old (if I could find one). This added to my excitement somewhat as I eventually decided that I’d just go for it and ended up with one leg on a slimy green rock, and the other leg still on the grass bank behind me with the only option of ‘going for it’. I did, and it all worked out well, but I’ll be honest I was concerned for my long term health this point ! Both mental and physical !
And now the Gods of stalking decided that I’d have enough good luck and it began to rain. Not light rain either, but big gobs of rain that a few metres higher would’ve been snow fell on me as I followed the inner edge of the crash barrier back to the truck. One other thing I realised is this - the crash barrier is not placed with much even ground next to it, and after about 10 mins of walking with my left ankle substantially lower and more bent that my right, I gave up, descended back to the level of the burn and followed that back to the truck. I kept saying to myself ‘the truck is only 400m away - I can’t be bothered to break out the Goretex shell’ and that was another mistake, as once back at the truck I realised I was soaked through. Idiot.
Anyhow, the truck started well enough but the rain had made it bog down so I had to engage 4 wheel drive to get it back onto the road, then drive it about half a mile to meet the ghillie who was just bringing the second carcass to the road edge as I pulled up - it looked as if we’d timed this to perfection.
Another wait for a couple of mins for traffic to ease and then it was both deer in the truck, heating on and me gently steaming as we drove back.
Another great day in Scotland - next year’s trip is already planned and booked, and I hope we have as good a time again.
