I could hardly describe what a hunter, and his team, could feel after such a long journey and an annoying mistake. Kostya muttered something to himself, or to us and rushed along the ridges after the departing sheep. I didn't understand what he meant. Did he want we followed him? But he should look around for one time to check if we followed him or not. Or he wanted us to stay on the ridge and waited for him? So, he disappeared behind the rocks.
To be honest, Zhaysan, Ilyas and I didn't know what to do. That's why we decided to sit down under the cover of a small rocky ledge and wait. What to wait for? None of us knew the answer. Three hours passed. We were already freezing due to the fact that we did not move practically , and the wind in the mountains was piercingly cold.
Suddenly Kostya appeared from behind the rock, as it turned out, he had been sitting and waiting for us all that time on the top of the ridge on the other side. We all went together to the place where he sat before and from where he watched the sheep.
We admired the beautiful views of the Rocky Mountains, the whole team turned around and started on our way back. Rocks, rocks, rocks, rocks…
We were already approaching their native "Khivus" like robots. None of us wanted to look for the place to cross the creek and we walked straight, sometimes knee-deep in water.
We were exhausted by such a long and difficult way and imply collapsed on solid ground near the "Khivus". After a short rest, we quickly changed into dry clothes, had a snack and set off on our way back. I calculated the route we had traveled to sheep when we were going back. It was 13.3 km according to GPS readings, then it could mean that the path only one way could be about 15-16 km, and there and back, plus even climbing a rocky ridge could turn out to be at least 32-33 km. It was hardly to believe. It was a great job to go such a distance in one day on such extremely rough terrain, and with a heavy backpack behind our shoulders! The shoulder blades itched from the wings that moved! It was a joke. We all wanted to come to the camp as soon as possible and to go to the bed.
So, we did on arrival. After arrival we had a short rest, then we had dinner and went to reduce the chronic lack of sleep and relieve fatigue. It was just 7 pm when we got in bed, we all were tired.
We soon rose again and resumed our march.
The next day, we did not rush to go hunting. The calm mode of entering the good form was required. Andrey planned a march to one more area well known to him, where he repeatedly saw good sheep. The way by boat was not far ahead. By a common decision, The team agreed to go with another overnight stay in the mountains.
We packed everything we would need and left the camp in an hour. Gennady, one more guide, joined us. That time we used two boats. We went down the Tyra River and turned sharply into one of its tributaries. We watched with interest the banks, in the thickness of which the permafrost thawed, and the soil slid into the river. There were icicles of various sizes in some places, they hung in rows directly from the ground, and resembled a system of organ pipes. The harsh beauty of the north fascinates and doesn’t leave indifferent even the most inexperienced travelers. I must pay tribute to hunters; this category of people is always able to understand and appreciate the beauty of nature in any of its manifestations.
But then we should have to go down to the ground, or rather, to dock to it from the contemplation of natural beauty. We came to the designated place where a stream flowed into the tributary of the Tyra River. Probably, in the spring and after the rains, that stream was a stormy water that flew and jumped over rocks and rifts and dragged along decent-sized trees. But now there was not enough water. But the huge boulders were still there. However, we were used to jump on them. But we were unlucky with a fine, nasty, cold rain that descended from the clouds which hung over the stream – it seemed to envelop us with a wet veil.
All together we had pulled the boats ashore and arranged a place for future camp, then we immediately set off. Andrey told us that the Czech hunter tried to hunt before us there. Unfortunately, his attempt was unsuccessful because he couldn't move by such terrain, it differed so much from the European forests. Just give us difficulties! We went to measure the next kilometers on the familiar stones, and the tedious, nasty rain was our faithful companion.
It was assumed that we would reach the place where the sheep were after 7-8 kilometers. At least, that's what Andrey claimed. It remained only to trust him and to measure the next kilometers with steps.
It took us two hours to reach the place. We made a stop there and Andrey went further to look around the surroundings. We agreed to contact by radio if it was necessary for a hunter to rise to make a shot. Andrey disappeared into the wooded thicket that covered the steep slopes.
Time passed slowly. Gena and we were able to enjoy a strong tea from the campfire and had a snack reserved for such an occasion.
Andrey came back in two hours later; he was tired and a little upset. His expectations to see sheep there were not confirmed. We had to return once again tight and dry.
The way back had to be shorter and faster, as we expected. But not in our case. The accumulated fatigue t had an effect. Our legs ached, and our mood was not upbeat. But we should go. We tried to discuss while going back, the need to stay in this area for another day. After a short debate, we came to the conclusion that there was no sense to stay there, and we should have to hurry to get to the boats on the shore, where a tent was already set for the night.
It began to get dark when we approached the boats, but we decided unanimously to move to the base, where it was still more comfortable to sleep. So, we packed the camp, loaded everything to the boats and set off.
The thick Yakut twilight abruptly turned into pitch darkness. Only a huge lantern of the moon slightly illuminated the way. Andrey warned us that there would be two very treacherous places on the tributary along the way. But we had no choice. Zhaysan and Ilyas were slightly depressed, but they did not lost heart. The boats began to went down with the current slowly. The jets worked for better maneuvering. I tried to illuminate the way for the boats with the lantern, which I had.
We all went ashore in the most dangerous place, put on our boots and began to wade through the rocky ground, and crossed small channels. There was a very serious threshold ahead, which could capsize the boat along with us and the cargo. I have already been in such a situation in the Altai, when the boat, ran into a huge boulder, which sticked out of the waters of the Katun river, stood on one side, and we all plus luggage in the boat, were about to capsize into its transparent, but cold waters. Then some miracle saved him. That time, none of us, moreover, at night, did not want to push our luck in any way.
We made our way slowly, almost in complete darkness, downstream and tried to find the safest passage through the roaring roll, which we passed without much difficulty during the day. But that was during the day. Every step and every meter could be fatal. We stopped several times, conferred and walked again. We kept the boats on long cables, with which they were tied on the shore.
Finally, we reached the first dangerous area. Andrey specified the route that we should follow we took the boat, he gave us the command to load, and we set off. He was steering the engine slightly. We heard several times how the bottom went over the stones, with a screech breaking the silence of the night. Zhaysan, Ilyas, and I were sitting in tension, ready to jump out of the boat in case of danger.
Suddenly the engine roared, the bow of the boat lifted slightly and slipped between the rocks sticking out of the water. We did it! My heart was relieved. One more threshold left, but it was no longer so dangerous and, thanks to the skill of the helmsman, it was possible to pass this threshold very well and gently.
Soon the water surface of the Tyra River opened up before us, then a little more, and we were in a camp that had become almost a home to us.
Tea, a light snack and a long-awaited rest. It was necessary to relieve not so much physical as moral tension and fatigue from the experiences during the return to the base and passing the thresholds. We went to bed quickly despite the abundance of thrills.
Then we soon got up and resumed our march.
There were only a couple of days left from our hunting schedule. We couldn't help but wonder why such a long and difficult journey was made. What for we did those titanic efforts, crossed the rocks, rivers and mountains of the harsh, but very beautiful Yakut region, would it be wasted in vain? There was a chance to get a trophy but the hunter is a human being who consisted of flesh and blood. He couldn't act like a robot, to aim and to hit the target when he saw a trophy. Zhaisan understood perfectly the price of a single shot. He had already traveled more than a dozen kilometers through the mountains in various mountain systems. He deserved a good trophy on that trip as well. But everything was somehow not quite successful.
But on the other hand, hope dies last. Not all the opportunities were used, there was still time-two whole days! The main thing was that we believed that the hunter, with his perseverance, hard work would get his coveted trophy.
It was necessary to pay tribute to Andrey as well. He worried about the hunter and made a lot of efforts to make the hunt a success. There were enough sheep habitats in that area. The problem was to overcome the impassable thickets of trees and shrubs, stone placers and deep-water streams. We were familiar with the mountains. The mountain landscape seemed better option for walking despite all the steepness of the slopes.
It didn't take much time to pack everything. The boat and the river once again. That time we went upstream, to the "remote "cordon, where the animal usually "goes". Again stones, again deep and viscous moss, bushes of willows. We overcame it all once again.
We came to a place where rocks grew sharply after the taiga. All mountain hunters were well aware, that rocks were exactly the places where sheep like to hide. Andrey detected a snow sheep. We were lucky that it was not blocked by vegetation. The ram laid quietly on a small shelf of the separate ridge, next to a tall rocky ledge. It seemed that nothing disturbed it, and it was to the advantage of the hunter.
Zhaysan had time to prepare for shooting calmly. There was no great doubt that the trophy would be obtained. The shooting distance was only 200 m. It was a gift on the mountain hunts. Andrey was still advising something to Zhaysan when his speech was interrupted by the lashing shot of a 300-caliber Blaser. The male immediately fell down and did not move anymore. Oh, my god! Everyone breathed a sigh of relief – it happened!
The captured male didn’t have outstanding trophy qualities, but it was a real, hard-working prey. The path to that trophy laid through the thorns of heavy hunting trials in the mountains of Yakutia. Zhaysan had already got the king of the mountain trophies – the Marco Polo sheep - at an altitude of 5,000 meters above sea level. The Yakut hunting can be put on a par with the high-mountain Pamir hunting according to the complexity of hunting. Zhaysan said that hunting in Yakutia gave him a lot of vivid impressions that would be remembered for a lifetime. I made a movie that would help to refresh memories and impressions. I did it during our trip as well as a lot of interesting photos with beautiful views of the polar beauty of Yakutia.
The journey home is always pleasant, even if it takes several days. Thoughts and mood begin to change from sharp hunting impressions to thoughts about home comfort and meeting with relatives, Zhaysan has a lot of them.
I remembered our way to home for two moments. We were taken to Yakutsk by a driver named Sergey, who contrasted sharply with Vasily, who transported us from the airport to Khandyga. Sergey knew how to hit the accelerator and did it with pleasure. Our hair were standing on end when he was rushing at high speed along the road, and drove periodically into clouds of thick dust that was left by oncoming trucks. The result of such a desperate driving style soon after leaving Khandyga, was a broken wheel, which he had to change in the dust from passing cars. He took us successfully to Yakutsk.
The second moment was a meeting with a famous Yakut hunter and author of TV shows about hunting in Yakutia, Alexander Borisov. Zhaysan could not but take the opportunity to meet with such a person and discuss various types of hunting and fishing on the territory of the Sakha Republic. The meeting was short, but very interesting and useful for both sides. In memory of this, Photos, taken in the lobby of the Alrosa hotel with a giant mammoth in the background, were in memory of that meeting.
The trip was completed by a tasty dinner. Zhaysan, Ilyas and I discussed the way we had passed, its bright and unforgettable moments.
Instead of an epilogue.
Fatigue disappears over time, the experiences and nervous tension, experienced during the trip, are forgotten. The most pleasant memories of the people we met, the beauty of nature, and the accurate shot will always remain in our memory. Time passes, and the hunter will be drawn again to the mountains or taiga to go through a difficult, but full of impressions path to his trophy. So it happened with Zhaysan. He went to measure kilometers along the mountain ranges to the next trophy once again.
