The Guide’s Lament

OVER the years I’ve had endless numbers of people tell me how lucky I am to be a hunting guide. The truth is…. it’s not all it’s cracked up to be and just like there’s guys out there bored out of their brains shagging chicks so hot you’d cut a finger off for a night with them. I’m pretty well had it with guiding hunts; look it’s not all bad, but hunting as a whole is changing, and so are hunters. And conversely to this there are just as many hunters who aren’t changing when better ways have been with us for a decade.

So where in the world am I today? Well, I’m sitting on the deck of a back country hut drinking a cheeky South Australian Shiraz gazing over the beech forest of New Zealand’s Kaweka ranges as I type this on my iPhone, headphones in, Hill Top Hoods cranked as I reminisce on the good the bad and the ugly I’ve had to deal with as a guide. Am I still guiding? Of course; a Danish lady is quietly sipping a wine beside me reading as her partner snoozes inside after a day climbing hills 10 times bigger