MY FIRST STALKING TRIP
In mid October 2005 my husband persuaded me to go on a 3-day stalking holiday to Scotland, which was organised by a great friend of ours, who took a week in Ben Armine Lodge every year. The Victorian sporting lodge is situated on the Sutherland Estate in the Northern Scottish Highlands, where red deer live amongst the heather-clad hills overlooking the Black Water River. The lodge was built in 1863 and also caters for hill walking, bird watching expeditions and fishing.
Not being a particularly country girl, I thought it sounded fun because there would be no cooking, cleaning or laundry and plenty of walking which is one of the few exercises I enjoyed. I was strongly advised to buy proper waterproof clothing and decent boots, so I bought a sage green Laksen outfit, which was waterproof trousers and a jacket. It’s still going strong 16 years later.
We flew to Inverness and hired a Land Rover Defender. After an hour’s drive we got to the private 8-mile long stony drive, which took a bumpy 30 minutes to get to the lodge as it was extremely rough. Our friend had already been at the lodge for a few days and had organised all the suppers and alcohol like a military operation and a wonderful home cook was hired, who was married to the deerstalker. They lived in a separate part of the lodge. As well as cooking, the lovely Linda prepared cooked breakfasts, made the beds, cleaned the common areas and lit the fire.
Most nights there was a roast because the next day the leftover meat was used for the ‘piece’ which was a large filled bap to take on the hill, together with fruit cake from the House of Bruar and a Mars Bar.
We had an excellent roast beef on our first night, with wonderful wines from the Wine Society. The dining room was snug and cosy with tartan carpet and matching chairs and curtains.
The next morning I got ready into my new kit, including a thermal vest and polo neck jumper - I was warned to cover up thoroughly to prevent ticks finding bare skin, and our host threatened us with daily tick inspections. We had a huge cooked breakfast as it was going to be a long day.
It was pretty mild weather and mercifully dry. I was prepared for all weathers and my jacket had many pockets - I had a fur hat, red leather gloves and sunglasses. I was advised to take a book as there might be long periods lying in the grass waiting for the stalk to conclude; sometimes it didn’t . I packed a small paperback called, “ Hunted Priest” a true story set in the Reformation.
We started our walk in single file with our sticks. The stalker led the party followed by the man whose turn it was to shoot a stag - my husband in this case. It was my first time walking on the vibrant green spongy “Sphagnum” moss. Our host explained that this bog moss had antiseptic properties which helped heal deer wounds.
Every so often we came to a halt and had to crouch low on the ground, and keep dead silent while the stalker went to spy a potential beast. This happened a few times until eventually a suitable stag was spotted - that is - either an old stag or a ‘switch’. ‘Switches’ are the most dangerous stags as they have lethal antlers, which resemble spears rather than the usual branch of little antlers. This means that in a stag fight, the ‘switch’ can use its spear to stab its rival and swiftly kill it.
After about 3 miles of stalking, a suitable stag was spotted and we all got into lying positions, while the stalker with the rifle, and my husband left the party to find a closer spot to shoot the stag. They crawled as quietly as possible lest the beast get away. We all waited for some time until we heard a single gun shot. This was no guarantee that the stag was shot, so we had to wait until further news.
No further shots were heard and my happy husband had successfully shot a ‘switch’. As it was his first stag he got bloodied on the face, which is an old tradition. The stalker then gralloched it and an Argocat vehicle appeared, to take the beast, using GPS technology, to the larder - where the carcass would be prepared for sale, the antlers removed, so that they could be mounted and hung up in our house. The beast weighed 13 stone and although ‘switches’ don’t have the most attractive antlers, my husband wanted them as it was his first stag. The used brass cartridge case would be turned into a key ring. Some people make collages out of the cartridge cases.
We walked a further 3 miles to a wooden cabin, where we had our ‘pieces’ for lunch. On our return there was another stalk and another stag. The day’s quota for stags was reached and we all looked forward to getting back to the lovely cosy lodge and hot baths! We walked a total of 12 miles that day and my thighs were burning.
I was so relieved to be able to relax in the panelled sitting room, with the cosy tartan carpet and open fire and a glass of wine. The walls were etched with old signatures including some famous ones such as the Duke of Wellington, the Dukes of Sutherland and Sir Winston Churchill. On the table were tempting boxes of Bendicks Bittermints, Quality Street and proper fudge.
Supper was fresh lobster delivered by the postman, followed by our friend’s wife’s delicately sliced oranges in Grand Marnier with cream, and after post dinner drinks, I sank into my soft bed and slept deeply. It had been a gloriously sunny day for my first time on a stalk, the first of many.
