Stina - Rod & Rifle

used by wapiti hunters for decades.
During Mike and Barraclough’s stay
they had some tremendous stalking
action as they chased bugling and
roaring stags on the coastal faces with
Barraclough taking some outstanding
photos and video footage. Over the
last few days one of my big toes had
become badly infected and during the
night waves of pain shot up my leg and
I thought my trip was over. In the early
hours of the morning as rain lashed our
Above; The Stina Burn tops looking towards the head of Bligh Sound.
Left; The late Charlie Tattersall holds Steve Collings big 13 from the Stina
(1991); 42.5 inches long by 39 inches wide.
tent I’d had enough
so asked Dave if he
would use his knife to
open my toe to relieve
the pressure. The relief
was tremendous and
after applying a liberal
coating of antiseptic
cream I had no more
problems. After packing
camp for the last time
in the rain we headed
down the ridge towards
base camp at the
mouth of the Catsarse.
Arriving at Catsarse
Creek we found a
raging torrent and as
we tried to work our
way along the creek
edge to fi nd a better
crossing we could
see the level rising
rapidly making it far too dangerous to
attempt a crossing. With nowhere to
camp we had to climb several hundred
metres back up the ridge to fi nd a fl at
spot and it was here that we found the
remains of the Australians campsite
from several years ago. It had been
left in a disgusting state with rubbish
everywhere. As we cleaned up the mess
some pretty angry words were directed
at them and I certainly hope they never
return to Fiordland. Huddled under the
fl y soaking wet and with base camp just
across the creek we both felt quite sorry
for ourselves. By late evening the rain
had eased so we dropped down to the
creek to check its level to fi nd it must
have dropped at least a metre. Leaving
a river level marker peg in the sand we
raced back uphill to break camp and
returned to attempt a crossing just on
dusk. On our arrival back at the creek
an hour later it had dropped more so I
called out to see if Mike and Barraclough
were at base camp and sure enough
they appeared on the river bank. Within
minutes we were changing into dry
cloths and downing cups of hot coffee.
Packing camp up next morning in
the sun was pleasant but sadly meant
the end of another great Fiordland
adventure. Our chopper arrived on time
and we were treated to a fabulous trip
out as our pilot took us on a scenic trip
home looking for deer on some of the
high ridges.
This was the wettest trip I have done
to Fiordland with only three fi ne days
out of fourteen however we still saw
some good animals. It’s the beauty and
magic of Fiordland and her wapiti bulls
that draws me back year after year no
matter what the weather.
Acknowledgements; The Banwell
Archives; John Hall-Jones;
ROD & RIFLE 19