The TRAIL HUNTER & THE IBEX
An ibex stands about 200m away, his long, curved horns thrusting skyward.
These are horns that say, ‘don’t mess with me’. This wild mountain goat weighs about 110kg – nearly twice what I do – and, for a moment, I’m glad of the distance separating us. The beefy beast throws us a cursory glance and holds his head high. Half nonchalance, half pride. This is his domain and he knows it. We’re just visitors, tourists, day-trippers – a mild irritant that’ll be gone with the setting sun. But it hasn’t always been like that. The undulating traverse we’re riding, suspended on a steep mountainside, owes its existence to the men who hunted these magnificent, impressively-horned ibex. This area was once the private hunting reserve of Duke Victor Emmanuel II. They certainly wouldn’t have envisaged it at the time but, love ’em or
