Like so many other events in our lives these days this one had been on hold for two years. When travel day finally came it felt a bit surreal. The forces that had been delaying my departure weren’t about to just let me go in peace. There were still plenty of hurdles beyond the normal preparation for international travel. Sworn statements, COVID tests, additional insurance, ect… And then there was trip itself. When you’re headed for 13 hours of air travel, on three planes through five airports it’s always nice to leave during a winter storm. The drive to the airport in blinding snow, entertaining, the first plane needed deiced, comforting, the second almost left without 6,000 lbs of additional needed fuel, confidence inspiring, and after the 2.5 hour mouse maze detour between airports the third plane wasn’t at the gate when I got there….and I was late. I did my very best to stay in the moment. With each passing hour I just that much closer. Just get there, I kept telling myself.
Everything changed once I was in the air to Bahia Blanca. Clear skies, smooth travel and the very best of people. Argentina has had its share of financial troubles, and everyone is feeling it. Cab drivers, airport personnel, ranchers, as well as outfitters. In a country that is most likely about to experience it’s second year in a row with inflation over 50% you cant help but wonder how anything is functioning. And we complain about the dollar. The drive from Bahia Blanca to El Carrizal is under two hours. I felt no rush, I was right where I was meant to be at that moment. When my driver pointed out the Estancia I was immediately struck by the gentle change in topography and vegetation. Sitting on the north end of the property over looking a shallow bowl, more like a dish. Surrounded by endless grass lands the main 10,000 acre property held dense to broken cover. Seemingly impenetrable in places. The tallest trees were possibly 30 feet. It certainly reminded me of parts of Texas where everything pricks you, pokes you and scratches you.
Temperatures were just over 80 degrees when I stepped out of the car and I was revisited by that surreal feeling. I may have also been experiencing a bit climate shock. Twentytwo degrees to eightytwo degrees in twentyeight hours. Temperature aside, It was a very warm welcome and I was beyond grateful to finally be at El Carrizal. A light snack and two shots from the Sitka 30-06 and I was headed out to take a look around with my PH Daniel. I had a 37- day streak going on Duo Lingo and I had down loaded my “interpreter app.” Yeah, right, there was a language barrier. Yet over the six full days of hunting I had with Daniel we were nearly always on the same page. Hunting is universal and he was top notch. That first evening was hot but we caught a glimpse of what looked to be very nice stage. The wind was picking up, cold air was coming, thing were looking up.
Due to scheduling, rescheduling, and rescheduling again, my time at El Carrizal overlapped with two different groups of hunters. I felt very fortune to have shared the experiences of 12 other hunters during my stay. Each day at lunch and each night at dinner there were new stories about life at home and the day in the field. Over the years I have found that those that live and pursue the sporting lifestyle share more than a passion for fish and game. The majority share many character traits as well. Independent, strong, intuitive, rational, AND generous. Not only was I in a beautiful place I was surrounded by really good people.
It was the evening of day three, when Daniel spotted a bedded stag in the grass. Our wind was good and we crawled the last 50 yards to settle in and wait. Waiting on stand is one thing, waiting out a bedded animal on your knees is another. The sky, like every evening I was there, held a golden glow that would soon fade to pink. When the animal finally rose from its bed the low sun made the stag looked as red as a fox. As luck would have it, he was facing straight away. I was forced to quickly move to my right while walking on my knees. With no time to wait the first shot hit its mark. He ran several yards to my left. I jumped up on very wobbly legs, centered myself and in seconds the stag was down. It was a picture-perfect animal on a picture perfect evening in La Pampa.
Paco, the head PH at El Carrizal, encouraged me to shoot the .375 HH prior to going into the field that evening. Up to this point in my life the largest gun I had ever shot was a .300 Win mag. I figured this was probably not the best time in the world to tell everyone I really don’t like rifles. I still don’t. With my stag heading to “the shed’ tomorrow I would embark on my first buffalo hunt.
Another perfect morning. Clear and near freezing, I felt right at home. The .375 was notably heavier than the 30-06. It was weight I was thankful for. We did find a lone buffalo that eventually lead us to a heard of about 20 animals. Two hours of sneaking and crawling ended when we realized we couldn’t close the gap and the buffalo had somewhere else they rather be. We picked up the evening hunt not far from where we left off that morning. My stomach was a bit unsettled which cased my attention to drift. Momentarily lost in thought I missed the buzzing of what sounded like a beehive. Once conscious of the sound I turned my head searching for swarming bees and walked right into the back of Daniel who had stopped. My embarrassment only lasted a few seconds as he turned, pointed, and said, “Buffalo.” I saw nothing, but I had gotten used to that as he was constantly seeing game before I did. The buff was bedded and we needed to get a better look. It was the stag hunt all over again but we were closer and the animal was bigger. A lot bigger. Kneeling at 83 yards, Daniel said, “trophy.” Now we waited. On our knees. Again. I heard my heart beat, in my throat. I wanted to get closer. It was made clear to me that first shot had to be perfect. We did crawl to the left in hopes of getting a better angle when the animal stood. I soon found myself standing with the gun on the sticks waiting and waiting. Nearing adrenaline overload I was working hard to lower my heart rate. Not working. At this point I figured If I could just level the emotion it would be a win. The buff moved his head, I dropped behind the scope. When he rose from his bed he was facing straight away. Not again! We were in a standoff, he was chewing his cud, I was trying to control my legs. He turned to the left, I settled, felt solid and pulled the trigger. It was if he had been shot out of a cannon. The speed of such a huge animal was remarkable. The vegetation created a natural window between the top of the grass and the lowest branches. The buffalo stopped after a 200 yard sprint in an opening with its head facing straight way. We watched for some time but he remained perfectly still and I could see his head hung low to the ground. We moved into the wind as quickly and quietly as possible closing the distance to 60 yards. I settled on the sticks and fired, I saw him flinch but he didn’t take a step. I fired again and then a third time. He turned, looked directly at us…. and charged! He cut the distance in half before I realized he was coming straight for us. My full speed clearly wasn’t going to be enough. Both Daniel and I ended up in the closest trees. With the buffalo veering to our right and stopping only 20 yards way still looking in my direction. All ended well and all I lost was a few years from the end of my life. For someone that has spent most of his life hunting whitetail with a bow this was an event that will change you. I have a new perspective on what it means to hunt big game. I know that Africa’s Cape Buffalo gets all the glory and for good reason. I also know that I was on a very steep learning curve. A 2,000 pound plus animal on any continent needs to be take very seriously.
For the next day and a half I walked off the emotional hang over from my buffalo buzz. Then it happened. We saw a large stag working a single line of trees in an open field. With the wind in our face we started our stalk and the adrenaline was flowing again. It was an ideal situation and those rarely work out in real life the way they do in your mind. I was well hidden behind a single small bush and braced again a tree when the stag appeared at a mere 30 yards. He hit the ground at 12 yards. Just like in my mind. A great animal with a split main beam on his right side. Quite the contrast from the unique symmetry of my first stag.
The next day and a half provided us with at least five stalks on black buck. With so many eyes scanning the grass and brush I just couldn’t get it done. They’re a warry animal and my limited experience in shooting longer distances off shooting sticks contributed to my missed opportunities. I was already holding an amazing memory and I wasn’t about the tarnish it with a poorly placed shot. Frustration and all, it was fun and Daniel and I laughed at the end of each failed attempt. Just when I had thought my big game hunting was over for this trip Daniel spotted two fallow bucks with their heads down feeding in the middle of massive grass flat. We jumped at the opportunity and made our move. There was one and only one tree for several hundred yards in any direction. That tree happened to be about four feet in diameter and we were able to keep it between us and the feeding fallow. I honestly never thought we would make the tree, but we did. And when we did, we found that both of the bucks had bedded down! The waiting game began for the third time. Much to my surprise, and to my liking, when the buck rose it was perfectly broadside. I was ready and in seconds it was over. Upon recover we discovered the buck had a cracked skull, most likely from fighting. Possibly the result of his non-typical point that ran backwards at the base of his right antler. It created a “hook” for another buck’s fighter point to get lodged. Another great animal, to end a truly great hunt.
My final day we traveled north to a pigeon roost. Myself and another hunter spent a casual morning wing shooting. Wing shooting in Argentina is an experience like no other. You can hear about it, you can read amount it, but you need to live it, at least once.
Like any great sporting destination, the game needs to be there. El Carrizal has the habitat and has the game. With tens of thousands of free range acres to hunting it provides the opportunity to hunt multitude of species. The fact that all twelve hunters I shared my week with filled their tags is testament to the quality of hunting available. Four of us decided to take a second stag. The estancia speaks for itself. A simple and beautiful place in a beautiful location. What you can’t see in those pictures are the people that make your time even more special. The staff, the chiefs, the guides and the owners are friendly, professional and excellent at what they do. At the heart of life’s memorable experiences, the people make the difference. All the ingredients for a hunt you will remember for a very long time. No matter how long it takes you to get to El Carrizal you won’t regret the wait.
Like any great sporting destination, the game needs to be there. El Carrizal has the habitat and has the game. With tens of thousands of free range acres to hunting it provides the opportunity to hunt multitude of species. The fact that all twelve hunters I shared my week with filled their tags is testament to the quality of hunting available. Four of us decided to take a second stag. The estancia speaks for itself. A simple and beautiful place in a beautiful location. What you can’t see in those pictures are the people that make your time even more special. The staff, the chiefs, the guides and the owners are friendly, professional and excellent at what they do. At the heart of life’s memorable experiences, the people make the difference. All the ingredients for a hunt you will remember for a very long time. No matter how long it takes you to get to El Carrizal you won’t regret the wait.
