DAGESTAN TUR HUNTING IN NORTH OSSETIA

John Williams (TX) – Game Trails, Spring 2010, Page 66

"Which one?" I asked hastily, as I found the group the scope. "Doesn't matter -all eight-year-old bulls" said the interpreter. Not satisfied, again I demanded, "Which is best?" Finally one of the guides said, "Middle one facing right." The steady shot brought an eruption of surprised turs running at full speed. One didn't get up. It was mine at last.
My Caucasian adventure had started the previous year right after returning from an ibex hunt in Mongolia. With many African hunts under my belt, that first real mountain hunt had me hooked. I had seen a television version of a tur hunt, which spurred my interest, and I started looking for a tur hunt of my own. Of anything that an agent or outfitter has for hunting in the Caucasus, one thing is a constant: be in good shape. I wondered if I could accomplish this, but I had been fairly dedicated in training for the Mongolian hunt.
There are three species of tur to hunt based on the location of the Caucasian Mountains from the east to west in which they reside: the Kuban, Mid-Caucasian and the Eastern or Dagestan tur, which is the most impressive to me. The horns are unusual for a goat, smooth and rounded, curving above and behind the head. I received an email from a well-known Russian outfitter offering an extremely good price on this species. On investigation, 1 found out the price cut was due to the fact the hunting area was not the usual Azerbaijan tur hotspot, but the lesser known North Ossetia (Alania) region of Russia. This area had taken some bad press due to the invasion of South Ossetia (Georgia) by Russia previously. Based on the assurance of safety and stellar reputation of this outfitter, I threw caution to the wind and sent the deposit.
My training started in April for the mid-August hunt. I decided that, to get the most out of this, I would be in the best shape possible. For 120 days straight, without missing a single 105-degree Texas summer afternoon, I ran the bleachers at the high school stadium for 60 minutes, followed by a 30-minute walk and some weightlifting. The last 30 days, I added a 30-pound backpack, and my hunting boots for more difficulty. Before leaving, I was 25 pounds lighter and in the best shape of my 41 years.
On my arrival in Moscow, I walked into baggage claim. Through the sea of Russian faces, recognized a familiar, worn-out Dallas Safari Club cap. Wearing the cap was to be my interpreter and hunting companion for the next 10 days, ProfiHunt representative Evgeny Kharitonov. Though only 26 years old, he is a veteran of dozens of sheep and goat hunts all over Asia. He had just finished his degree at university, in wildlife, with a specialty in Marco Polo argali. This would be his first time in this region of the Caucasians, however. After the usual overpriced hotel stay in Moscow, we flew two hours to the North Ossetia city of Vladikavkaz. Meeting us at the airport was our host, Tzara, who is the head of the game department for the entire region. Along with his wife Natalia, they also run a hunting lodge and banquet facility with the quality of a five-star resort.
Tzara took us to the game department headquarters and I knew there had been a shortage of hunters to the area by the number on my state hunter's permit, area 001. That evening, I was treated to a party hosted in my honor, attended by several of the game department officers. A variety of local dishes were served. A roe deer had been harvested on the property the day before and we feasted on it along with other local favorites. Vodka toasts followed each course, but not being much of a drinker, I tried to avoid as many as possible without offending my gracious hosts. Evgene, my interpreter, who also had never experienced Ossetia hospitality, remarked to me he had seen examples of this "only in the movies."
The following day, we left the lodge for an hour-long drive into the mountains where we were handed off to our guides, Asian and Seslan, who were also employed as game department agents. It was easy to tell these are men who love the mountains and are passionate about protecting the game and resources in their charge. Most of all, they love to hunt tur. We rode by truck another two hours into the mountains while the beautiful landscape unfolded before us. The most wildflowers I had ever seen carpeted the bottom of the valleys, while snow-capped peaks towered to up to 14,000 feet above us. A few military check points later, we came to the end of the road at the bottom of a valley at which point we would be on foot.
My guides began eliminating what they considered needless things from my pack and my brand new aluminum hiking staff was the first thing to go. A new staff made of hardwood was supplied along with a quick lesson on its use. This simple stick would be my constant third leg over the next three days and literally saved my life many times over. You use it as uplift when climbing up and more importantly, like a brake when going down. After a quick meal, the trek began. We walked up a long valley with a roaring, glacier-fed stream for about six or seven miles. I began to think this would be a cakewalk and the difficulty had been overstated. We stopped along the way to take a dip in a natural hot mineral spring that seemed to be a favorite spot of the tur experts. Then the easy bottom of the valley walk abruptly came to a halt as we started to climb straight up and up and up for another eight hours. We climbed over rocks, glaciers, and shale, through sun, rain, snow, and thick fog at about 4,000 feet at the valley floor to 12,000 feet where we finally stopped just before dark.
The tent could only be pitched on rock at a 20-degree angle as there are no flat spots, but my tired body couldn't have cared less as I ate a few bites and slipped into my bag with exhaustion. I awoke several times in the night crumpled at the bottom of the tent due to the downhill angle, but managed to go back to sleep each time without much trouble.
At daylight, Evgene poked his head into the tent and told me the fog was too thick to see through. Only an hour later, it began to lift and the two guides and two assistants had already spread out in the peaks and were spotting herds of tur. Word came via radio of a large group of females and young with a few immature bulls. Asian hoped a large bull would show himself, though it never materialized. A single average bull was spotted, and I passed in hopes of something bigger. While watching the large group of females for a few hours, a guide higher up sent word about a group of good bulls. For another four hours, we continued to climb, but the group stayed on the move, climbing higher and higher, as they do throughout the day. Finally, Seslan had found them bedded down below him, and we were able to get into position. My Ruger .270 mountain rifle worked perfectly and the tur only went a few yards before going down.
After the shot, the rest of the group climbed higher, and were sky-lined above us for a perfect picture. After the pictures and removal of the cape, the guides placed the meat under a glacier- fed waterfall to stay cool for retrieval the next day and we started down. The climb that had taken a complete day was descended in three and a half hours, but was much steeper and more treacherous going down. I reflected on the last two days and concluded that this was not only the hardest hunt ever, but the most physically demanding thing I had done in my entire life.
Normally, on a hunt like this, after the trophy is taken, the remaining days are spent without much to do, but relax at the lodge while waiting for the return trip home. Our gracious hostess, Natalia, would have none of this. The next day was spent with Natalia as a personal tour guide, showing us all the sights of Vladikavkaz -monuments, beautiful parks, museums and shopping. The final stop of the day was the site of the 2004 Beslan school massacre. The school in which 334 hostages were killed by armed terrorists stands in its original bullet-riddled condition as a reminder of the horrors of the incident. Standing in the gymnasium with pictures of the victims was an experience that will be with me forever. Then we visited the cemetery, built for the victims, and meticulously maintained in their honor. Still with a couple days left, we were back to the mountain lodge for the night to relax and enjoy the scenery. Also staying there were a gracious group of friends who had come from the city to relax together. The men represented several ethnic groups, including North Ossetia, Dagestan, Armenian, and South Ossetia. They insisted we share with them all the foods they were preparing followed by toasts of homemade wines, and of course, vodka. In spite of the language barrier, they made me feel like we were old friends with their hospitality. One more day of touring local points of interest brought one of my favorite hunts ever to a close.
On the flight back to the States, the next mountain hunt was already on my mind. GT