TAHR TANGLE AT THE TARNS

Though I had missed out on the ballot we were still keen to go and see what had transpired over the course of the hunt in another area I had marked out for just this purpose a few years back. A pub meal was a great way to begin the proceedings followed by an early might in preparation for an even earlier start on the morrow.

After arriving at James’ heliport, we unloaded and sorted gear for the machine as the distant sound of approaching rotors reached us. His familiar purple chopper swung into view and set down for a quick load-up and got away with the first group, Bernadette, Nathan and I, for the campsite. A brisk sou’ easter was flowing out of the main valleys, causing a few heavy bumps as we cut over the flats before sidling up under the brows of the hills ahead to avoid the worst of the gale. It soon reached us again as we crested the ridge and rattled the machine as James manoeuvred it for touchdown. Peaks, passes, and deep gullies spun around us and then tussock, close at hand, and billowing in the wind. We were down. Out quick-fast as James commanded