ROMANIA: Chamois In Romania, How Did I Get Here?

[Russ16]

You know those pictures of people walking along the spine of a mountain on a narrow trail with a steep drop off on either side? A lot of you (and my friends) see those and think “that’s awesome,” my reaction falls more into the camp of “nope” or something featuring stronger language. Why then did I find myself in the Carpathian Mountains walking along just such a trail with a 20 mph wind trying to blow me off of the steeper side. I was hunting chamois of course, something most serious hunters are familiar with but that most of my friends and acquaintances stare back blankly when I mention the name.

It all started about a year ago when I started seeing the social media posts by a gentlemen name Marius with @HUNTROMANIA. I became fascinated by the animals and the scenery. I’d always wanted to try a mountain hunt, and this seem more approachable both physically (more on that later) and financially. After some correspondence it seemed that the exact dates that I could make it didn’t seem to work out with Marius, but i was able to book a hunt through the Hunting Consortium whose owner Bob Kerr assured me that they had been doing hunts there since the end of communism in 1992, he also said that while strenuous the chamois terrains “wasn’t that bad.” I was booked for the first week of November with a day of leisure on arrival in Bucharest to shake off the jet lag followed by 4 days of hunting.

I was assured that if I got my chamois early there was plenty of sight-seeing in the area to keep me busy.

Travel and Arrival

I flew Turkish air out of Dulles with a connection in Istanbul in business class the whole way. It was my first time on Turkish and their planes are a little old but clean and well maintained. All together the flight was seamless and comfortable. The lounge in Istanbul is spacious and I had enough time on the way over to shower in the lounge which always makes me feel better.

On arrival I was met by Adrian Barbescu who has worked for Hunting Consortium since they started there in 1992. He helped me through customs with the rifle permit etc. It really wasn’t too bad but a lot of walking back and forth bringing different pieces of paper I had to sign and more carbon paper than I’ve seen in a while.

Adrian had booked me at a nice historic hotel in Bucharest. I dropped by bags and freshened up then met him downstairs about 2 hours later. He gave me a brief walking tour of downtown and took me to a lovely restaurant for an early dinner. It was traditional Romanian fare and quite good.

I went to be early and slept a solid 10-11 hours, something I never do. The next day I met Adrian and loaded my gun and luggage in his vehicle and we headed north. It was an interesting drive, you can still see the impacts of communism on the landscape. The drive took about 3 hours the last hour or so was on very narrow rural roads and the last half hour was on gravel. The “lodge” was a solid but plane small mountain hotel. Everything was simple but nice, they actually get heat from a giant wood fired furnace that provides steam for the radiators.

I met one of the guides name Bebe who took us out to check zero on the rifle. He ran a carboard box from a 12 pack of beer out to 120 yards and I put a round dead center confirming my zero. After shooting he came back and said some things to Adrian in Romanian. Adrian asked me to show him my ammo. He looked at them frowned and let off a torrent of Romanian. Adrian explained that he didn’t think the 30-06 was a good cartridge that the air here was cold and it would be “too low.” I explained that I had shot a pronghorn at 292 yards just a couple of months earlier, he shook his head muttered some more and headed back to the car.

That night we met another hunter in the lodge who was from Norway. He had just finished his hunt, taking really nice chamois each of the previous two days one male and one female. I was very encouraged.

Dinner that night was good solid Romanian lamb stew. Adrian pressured me into a sugary dessert which was a huge mistake. I never eat dessert, and it didn’t sit well with me. In fact it kept me up basically all night.

 

[Russ16]

Day 1 – The Chamois are High

Our wakeup call was at 4:00 am for a 4:30 departure. I was already struggling having slept hardly at all thanks to the dessert but I did manage to choke down a few eggs they had made me for breakfast, that was a mistake.

The night before I had asked Adrian and Bebe what the weather would be. They assured me that it would be about 10 degrees Celsius by mid-day but a bit colder in the morning. I dressed in layers but not too heavy knowing we would be moving a good bit.

At 4:30 we loaded up the vehicle and I learned I would have two guides today, Bebe and another slightly older guide named Catalin. The drive to the hunting area would be about 2 hours. It was two hours over a potholed forest road at a remarkably high rate of speed. I’ve never been car sick in my life until that morning. I could feel the eggs sloshing in my stomach and focused on trying not to throw up.

We climbed steadily and it was interesting seeing the forest makeup change as we gained altitude and eventually broke out of the forest. The road continued to get steeper and was switch backing up the mountain. Eventually we stopped as the road was mostly blocked by snow with just a narrow space between the snow and a steep drop off. Adrian informed me that we would get out and Bebe would try to drive past the blockage and we would follow and meet him past the bad spot. He didn’t really explain what we would do if the vehicle slid down the drop off, I guess we would just have a long walk back.

After we go back in the road was better for a bit but then Bebe turned off the road to essentially go straight up the mountain, he was swinging the wheel back and forth strongly to help the front get grip in the deepening snow. It continued to get steeper, and I found myself thinking that I really wanted to shoot a chamois today so that I wouldn’t have to do the drive again tomorrow.

Finally, we reached to top of a hill facing a line of peaks ahead of us. It had been explained that the chamois were very high and our goal was to get to the top and hunt along the ridge looking down into “buckets” where the chamois were expected to be.

So we set off climbing what would be the first of many hills. We started walking right at sunrise and reached the first of the “buckets” about an hour later. It was a steady uphill but good footing. At the first bucket we immediately saw two chamois, a small female and young male but not shooters.

At that point I could see the line of peaks we would be hunting across and that each was steeper and rockier than the last.

We got over the first peak and headed down for a bit then back up toward the next one. At this point we began to encounter snow. It was frozen on top but about every third step would break through to mid-calf height. The route we were taking got steeper and narrower as we went. By the time we got to the third peak there was not bare ground to be seen, and the walkable portion was quite narrow, that’s when the wind picked up.

It was between the third and fourth peak that I started to consider what it was going to take to get back to the truck. I had worked up quite a sweat when moving and by now realized it wasn’t going to reach 10 Celsius, in fact every time we stopped to glass my sweat would freeze solid wherever it was exposed. I don’t believe it ever got above freezing that day, At one point we found a sheltered bench to glass from out of the wind and took out the lunches the hotel had made us. It was a plain chicken sandwich but I was still nauseous from the car ride. I was able to eat a kind protein bar I had brought but even that made me feel a bit ill.

By the time we reached the fifth peak there were portions that were steep enough I was on hands and knees. But it was in that final “bucket” that we found a herd of chamois. Overall, we saw about 40 animals, but only young and small were in range. There were two nice males about 800 yards away but with no good way to get to them, it was a steep drop-off between us and them. Bebe and Catalin kept looking at them and then me and then talking about them. I couldn’t tell if they were disgusted that they didn’t think I could mountaineer my way there or that my measly 30-06 couldn’t make the shot.

Eventually we started back toward the truck by sliding down the back side of the mountain and looking at the drop-offs on the other side. This was the north side so the snow was deeper. I was following Catalin and tried stepping where he did to limit breaking through the ice snow. This mostly worked but his shoe size was much smaller than mine, I began to suspect that was because he had goat hooves for feet as he continued to go up and down the mountains with ease.

I should note that neither of them spoke any English. The only word they said all day that I understood was chamois, which they would say as they pointed to the next peak indicating we needed to keep going up.

I’ll admit the walk back was pretty tough. I was reaching my limit and going on no sleep and not much food I didn’t have much left in the tank. The wind was getting stronger and colder. At one point I had a serious conversation with myself about whether sitting down and getting hypothermia was a good option, it was 50-50 for while and I really don’t think they could have carried me out.

Eventually we got out of the rockiest terrain but still had a few peaks to go. I kept at it but really couldn’t keep up with them. As we approached the vehicle, they were a few hundred yards ahead of me. Adrain who had spent the day in the truck came down to me and said, “they said it was very hard for you.” I wasn’t happy at that point, I can guarantee it was hard for anyone who didn’t live in these mountains and do it every day. When we go to the truck I checked my phone. My health app said we had done over 13 miles and 365 flights of stairs, that’s 3,650 vertical feet. So yeah, it was a little hard.

Now we began the 2 hour drive back to camp. I’ll tell you I can see why people used to think the forest was haunted. As the sun was setting the shadows off the trees combined with my tiredness and probably some wonky blood sugar from not eating much.

When we got back to the lodge I went straight to my room and took a very hot shower. When I cam down to the dining area for dinner I met a husband and wife from Sweden who were to begin hunting the next day. The wife immediately said “you must be the American we’ve heard so much about.” I asked what they had heard and she said “only that you had a hard day.”

So here I am in Romania after day one feeling like I went basically to my physical limit and I have the distinct feeling that the guides who already don’t like my choice of gun are now disparaging my fitness as well. I was not encouraged.

After a nice meal with a plenty of hot soup and a good conversation with the Swedes I headed to bed early, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

 

[Russ16]

Day 2 – Ghosts at the Peak

After a bit of a better nights sleep I chose to skip breakfast other than a couple of pieces of toast. I was told that we would be hunting a different area and only Catalin would be with me today. The drive was just a bumpy but we weren’t climbing like the day before. We reached the end of the road where there was a small shepherds shack and a river running next to the road. There were two drainages in front of us and Adrian said that Catalin and I would be hunting up the one straight ahead, towards Moldoveanu, the tallest peak in Romania.



Just as we were getting going another car pulled up with the Swedish woman and two guides. The would be hunting the other drainage. As I set off the younger guide asked what gun I had. When I said 30-06 his reaction was equally dismissive. I bit my tongue before pointing out that it was a good enough cartridge to save Europe from the Germans twice.

Off we went, my legs were pretty stiff but after about 45 minutes I’d flushed the lactic acid and felt a bit better than I thought I would. We worked our way up the mountain making steady progress. An hour in we saw a very nice male chamois at about 300 yards. But it Catalin indicated it was moving toward where the Swedish woman would be hunting. Sure enough 20 minutes later we heard a shot. She had her chamois after less than an hour of hunting.

We continued up the mountain and around 11 reached an elevation where we started seeing chamois. There were two shooters in range but through sign language Catalin indicated that there was no way to shoot them without them falling into a place where we couldn’t recover them.

Then the fog rolled in. We had spotted a very large male at the top of a peak in front of us, it was very cool seeing him moving around the top of the mountain peering down at us. We started working our way toward him. We would move as it was foggy and then stay still when it cleared. When we got to about 400 yards I started looking around for shooting positions if the opportunity arose. I’ll never forget the imagine of him looking down at us with the fog moving in and out and partially obscuring like he was some kind of guardian of the peak. Alas, the fog came to stay and got thicker. Eventually we could only se 30-40 yards. We hunkered down in a soft spot by the rocks and waited. After a while the fog turned to rain. Eventually we had to head back down. It wasn’t as strenuous as the day before, but the rain slicked rocks and a few frozen spots were sporty enough.

Back at the truck my health app said it was an easy day 6 miles and 89 flights of stairs.

Back at the lodge we were greeted by the Swedish lady well rested and showered and I offered her congratulations. She was very happy and talked about how hard it was walking up the mountain to on the hunt. Adrian informed me that her gold medal chamois had flushed out of some brush 50 yards below us before moving towards her.

About 30 minutes behind us her husband arrived, with his chamois. He had to climb something like what we had done that day to get it late in the day. All through dinner he carried on about how sore his legs were how he was having muscle cramps. I started to feel like was having a prank pulled on me or something.

The lady’s young guide joined us for dinner and asked me about the 30-06 and why I didn’t use a better gun. I told him I had rung steel at 1000 yards with the load I was using (at the FTW ranch training over the summer) and felt comfortable with it. I really couldn’t understand the disdain. But overall, we had a nice dinner trading hunting stories and learning about how they hunt in Sweden and Romania. But I made it another early night and headed to bed.

 

[Russ16]

Day 3 – Trails, Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Trails

The next morning followed the now familiar routine, me refusing breakfast other than some toast and them being confused by that, followed by the bumpy two-hour car ride.

We went to the same parking area as the day before but would be hunting a drainage in a different direction. We started out following a sheep trail that headed up the mountain. About a third of the way up Catalin spotted chamois at the top.

At that point he left the trail, and we followed the tree line as far as we could. That meant no more switch back just straight up the mountain. The grass had a heavy frost on it and I had to really watch my footing to keep from slipping down the mountain.

Eventually we had to work across the face of the mountain. At one point we reached a pretty slick bit of scree that was fairly unstable and icy but we slowed down and worked our way across it. A bit further on we encountered a mass of frozen snow with grass mixed in, that’s when I learned another English work in Catalin’s vocabulary—avalanche. He took a few steps out onto it and turned and made a hand motion that it was uneven and to go slowly. I guess he hadn’t noticed that slow was really the only thing I was capable of.

After a bit we got over to the far side of the mountain where we encountered a steep rock face. I figured we would keep working around to the back or something, but Catalin pointed straight up the face and said “chamois.” I then understood we would be going straight up. As we began to get started, he touched the rock and said “like glass” meaning the heavy frost had the rock very slippery and to be careful.

Up the face we went. I was basically on hands and knees for 90% of it, there were a few times that I could rise up to a hunched walk. I don’t know how long we climbed but I later figured it was a couple of hundred feet. After that we reached a place where there was a narrow but steep bench where we could peer over the rocks in front of us. Catalin pulled his pack off and put it on the rock and gestured for me to get my gun ready.

I put the gun on his pack and wedged my feet to hold me upright, using by elbows on the rock to both allow my arms to pull the gun into my shoulder and at the same time pull my body into the rock rather that sliding down the hill. Before doing so I ranged a few spots to my front with my Leica RF binos so I would have an idea of ranges.

Catalin said “chamois, 1, 2, 3, either 1 or 3” I took this to mean there were three chamois and on and three were shooters. Sure enough after about 20 seconds three chamois came out left to right, his position allowed him to see them before me. 3 quickly turned and ducked back behind the rock. But 1 pranced out to the edge of a rock slide right in front of a rock face I had ranged at 265 yards. The gun was zeroed at 200 so I settled the illuminated dot just behind the should at the mid-point of the body and squeezed. When I came out of recoil I saw four feet sticking in the air, the 165 grain TTSX had dropped it without a step.

And that was it, a year of training, three days of mountain climbing, two nights of wondering if it was going to happen, I had shot my chamois. I hadn’t had a look at the horns yet but it was already a trophy I’ll treasure for the rest of my life. I stood there in silence looking at the 4 feet I could see. Suddenly I realized Catalin’s hand was extended, I took and he said “congratulations” and I know he meant it.

Now to get the chamois. I could see him looking up the mountain and trying to figure out the path, it was considerably steeper above us. About that time the chamois starts to tumble down the mountain and I picture it rolling down into the crevice that led to the river below us. After about 50 yards it stopped, for a short while. Then it started tumbling again. Catalin started walking out to where it was headed, now I’m picturing it hitting him and both of them tumbling into the crevice. But it stopped and he got to it and started dragging it towards me. He found a small pile of rocks where he was able to wedge it for some pictures.

Then as he’s arranging his pack I hear a cracking sound and look uphill to see a small group of rocks breaking off the peak and tumbling toward us, one about the size of a hubcap is on edge spinning straight toward me. Catalin says “duck!” and I turn by back and try to use my pack as a shield. It must have hit something just above me because it diverted and flew by about 15 feet to my left. Catalin says “like glass, the sun” meaning that as the sun had come out and was melting the frost rocks were breaking free. I assumed that meant more would be coming and now would be a good time to get out of this spot, Catalin thought it was a good time to sit down and eat the chocolate bar in his pack.

We worked together to get the animal gutted and ready to pack out. I can tell you that I’m man enough to admit the things I’m not man enough to do and at that moment carrying the chamois out wasn’t in the cards for me. Not because of fitness but I couldn’t figure out how I would get my pack on in that steep location without falling off the mountain. Catalin didn’t even think about letting me try, he loaded it in his pack and started down.

We stopped a few times on the way down to rest and once when we got to the old avalanche which he was obviously nervous about crossing. When we were nearly to the bottom he stopped and sat on a rock large enough for both of us. He motioned to the scenery around us and took a couple of pictures, amazing to think that a guy who does this every day is still awed by the beauty. Then he said “in 10 minutes it is over” and I knew what he meant, not it’s over as in relief but it’s over as in we wish it could go on forever. It was moving.

The health app said only 5 miles but 189 flights of stairs on this day which should give you and idea of how steep it was to get up there.

And down we went getting back to the vehicle and the waiting Adrian. This is where I got a little turned off. This animal was an amazing trophy for me; I can honestly say this was the hardest I’ve worked physically and mentally for anything. Mainly because of that first day. I’ve never measured an animal with a tape measure in my life, but Adrian immediately started speculating on how it would score. He seemed disappointed and kept pointing out that the Swedish woman’s was bigger. I’m sorry but I’d rather have the one I worked for than her gold medal that took 30 minutes of a mountain stroll. It was very off putting.

Anyway we headed back to the hotel where Catalin skinned and processed the animal. We had some fresh grilled for dinner.

The next morning, I slept in and then packed up. We had an early lunch and headed to Bucharest. I walked around a bit on my own that afternoon and had another great dinner at a very traditional spot with Adrian.

Departure with the gun was a bit of an adventure. Down in the basement where a host of people had to look at the paperwork but eventually, I got through. Easy flight with a short layover in Istanbul and back to Dulles.

 

[Russ16]

Conclusion

It was an amazing trip and I’m glad I did it. As you might have figured out I’m not really a mountain person. I’m actually terrified of heights, and I don’t get inspired by the mountains the way some people do, in fact they make me feel a bit claustrophobic. I grew up Texas and spent most of my time in west Texas. I’m a creature of the plains; I like to see the horizon. I understand the beauty of the mountains, but they don’t inspire me the way the wide-open plains do. I’ll take eastern Montana or Wyoming over the mountainous western part any day.

But I’m glad I went and challenged all of that. I learned that if you take your time and go slow you can climb a lot of things you didn’t think you could. I took on the challenge and got through it. As I was flying back, I replayed it all in my head thinking I got that out of my system. Now as I sit here at home, I find myself looking at Ibex hunts on YouTube and thinking maybe if I train a little harder and take some of the lessons I learned. I even found myself looking at mountain goat outfitters the other day. Not sure I’ll ever do it but I’m not ruling it out.

 

[Russ16]

The Gun

I never met my great-grandfather, he died 10 years before I was born. But we share a birthday and a middle name, in fact I’m the fourth of now 5 generations to share that middle name. I believe we also share a love of hunting. I base this on two things, the first is a picture of him and a friend in South Dakota. They had driven up from Oklahoma to hunt and the picture shows a car covered in pheasants and grouse with a pronghorn and two deer hanging from a pole to the side. I can’t imagine what that drive was like on dirt roads and where they hunted but it is obviously to guys that love to hunt.

The second is his guns. The first is a well-worn model 94 that has seen a lot of use but was well cared for. The second is what he replaced it with in 1948 when his eyes got too bad for iron sights. A Winchester Model 70 in 30-06 equipped with a Weaver 2-5 variable power scope. It was state of the art when it was purchased.

I used this gun to take my first deer and a few thereafter before the siren song of new rifles called me away. But when I booked this chamois hunt, I decided I should take it out of mothballs. I don’t think he would be offended that I upgraded the optics 5i+ 2-10 with an illuminated BRM reticle. I worked up a handload of a 165 grain Barnes TTSX at about 2800 fps. It was shooting sub-moa, and I used it on a NM pronghorn in August as a shakedown.

After the shot I had time to laser it exactly, it was 252 yards slope adjusted from me to the chamois. Turning off the slope adjustment, it was 370 yards. I wish I could have shown that to the two guides who had no respect for the 30-06.

I have to tell you that sitting on the top of that mountain with the chamois at my feet and that gun in my hands I started thinking about my great-grandfather and the love of outdoors that passed from him to my grandfather, and then to my father, which then reached me and led to that moment on that mountain. Each of us sharing a middle name.

It was a little emotional in a way I think most hunters will understand. I now have 5 nephews and nieces. Two of them share that same name. It is my sincere hope that one day one of those five will find themselves afield with that Model 70 and hopefully they’ll feel the same connection that I felt that day.

 

[Mark Biggerstaff]

Congrats on your adventure.

 

[Red Leg]

Day 2 – Ghosts at the Peak

After a bit of a better nights sleep I chose to skip breakfast other than a couple of pieces of toast. I was told that we would be hunting a different area and only Catalin would be with me today. The drive was just a bumpy but we weren’t climbing like the day before. We reached the end of the road where there was a small shepherds shack and a river running next to the road. There were two drainages in front of us and Adrian said that Catalin and I would be hunting up the one straight ahead, towards Moldoveanu, the tallest peak in Romania.



Just as we were getting going another car pulled up with the Swedish woman and two guides. The would be hunting the other drainage. As I set off the younger guide asked what gun I had. When I said 30-06 his reaction was equally dismissive. I bit my tongue before pointing out that it was a good enough cartridge to save Europe from the Germans twice.

Off we went, my legs were pretty stiff but after about 45 minutes I’d flushed the lactic acid and felt a bit better than I thought I would. We worked our way up the mountain making steady progress. An hour in we saw a very nice male chamois at about 300 yards. But it Catalin indicated it was moving toward where the Swedish woman would be hunting. Sure enough 20 minutes later we heard a shot. She had her chamois after less than an hour of hunting.

We continued up the mountain and around 11 reached an elevation where we started seeing chamois. There were two shooters in range but through sign language Catalin indicated that there was no way to shoot them without them falling into a place where we couldn’t recover them.

Then the fog rolled in. We had spotted a very large male at the top of a peak in front of us, it was very cool seeing him moving around the top of the mountain peering down at us. We started working our way toward him. We would move as it was foggy and then stay still when it cleared. When we got to about 400 yards I started looking around for shooting positions if the opportunity arose. I’ll never forget the imagine of him looking down at us with the fog moving in and out and partially obscuring like he was some kind of guardian of the peak. Alas, the fog came to stay and got thicker. Eventually we could only se 30-40 yards. We hunkered down in a soft spot by the rocks and waited. After a while the fog turned to rain. Eventually we had to head back down. It wasn’t as strenuous as the day before, but the rain slicked rocks and a few frozen spots were sporty enough.

Back at the truck my health app said it was an easy day 6 miles and 89 flights of stairs.

Back at the lodge we were greeted by the Swedish lady well rested and showered and I offered her congratulations. She was very happy and talked about how hard it was walking up the mountain to on the hunt. Adrian informed me that her gold medal chamois had flushed out of some brush 50 yards below us before moving towards her.

About 30 minutes behind us her husband arrived, with his chamois. He had to climb something like what we had done that day to get it late in the day. All through dinner he carried on about how sore his legs were how he was having muscle cramps. I started to feel like was having a prank pulled on me or something.

The lady’s young guide joined us for dinner and asked me about the 30-06 and why I didn’t use a better gun. I told him I had rung steel at 1000 yards with the load I was using (at the FTW ranch training over the summer) and felt comfortable with it. I really couldn’t understand the disdain. But overall, we had a nice dinner trading hunting stories and learning about how they hunt in Sweden and Romania. But I made it another early night and headed to bed.

Really enjoyed the story - but with respect to the 30 06, the Romanians were German allies in WWII - we did not "liberate" them. They might have had more appreciation for an 8x57.

And good on you. I have hunted the Alps and the mountains of Spain a good bit, but the Alpine adventure that almost did me in was for a mountain goat in British Columbia. Between the altitude and steepness of terrain, I was truly challenged. The only opportunity we had was at nearly 600 yards. I did not attempt the shot with my .270. So glad you took yours.

 

[WAB]

Very well written and a great adventure!

 

[Green Chile]

Congrats on having the mental ability to push beyond your comfort level. Also, your guides had probably had a bad experience with that caliber and weren’t very open minded about it.

Did you share feedback with Bob Kern? Any hunt photos you can share?

 

[Russ16]

Enjoyed the tale - but with respect to the 30 06, the Romanians were German allies in WWII - we did not "liberate" them. They might have had more appreciation for an 8x57.

And good on you. I have hunted the Alps and the mountains of Spain a good bit, but the Alpine adventure that almost did me in was for a mountain goat in British Columbia. Between the altitude and steepness of terrain, I was truly challenged. The only opportunity we had was at nearly 600 yards. I did not attempt the shot with my .270.

I know they were German allies that why I bit my tongue! lol

I’d argue we still saved Europe. Even Germany from itself.

 

[Russ16]

Congrats on having the mental ability to push beyond your comfort level. Also, your guides had probably had a bad experience with that caliber and weren’t very open minded about it.

Did you share feedback with Bob Kern? Any hunt photos you can share?

I haven’t sent Bob and email yet but plan to.

 

[Russ16]

Some photos of they will load.

This is from nearly the bottom. The chamois was shot at the rock face second from the top.

Edit: if anyone can tell me how to edit a photo to put in a little dot I would show you exactly where.

 

[Russ16]

My chamois.

 

[Russ16]

Photos form day 2.

 

[Russ16]

Day 1 photos

 

[Russ16]

I also thought this was funny. An electric car charging station powered by a diesel generator.

 

[R eight]

Well done on a great hunting adventure. As for the’06….it’s never a bad choice.

I enjoyed the read. Thanks.

 

[Sika98k]

Spectacular looking scenery and a great write up.
Thanks for sharing. I hate going uphill.

 

[Green Chile]

Just to lend a hand...beautiful photo deserves better viewing.