Kazakhstan – The Adventure of a Lifetime

For many, Kazakhstan is not the first destination that springs to mind. Yet for those with a passion for true wilderness and mountain hunting, it more than likely is at the very top of the bucket list. I was certainly one of those people; for years the mid-Asian Ibex had occupied my mind as a “one day” trip.

Kazakhstan’s appeal is simple: it offers some of the most dramatic, remote, beautiful and culturally unique mountain hunting anywhere in the world, at a fraction of the cost of North America or equivalents. The scale of the country, its ruggedness and its sheer sense of remoteness combine to deliver an experience that is becoming increasingly rare, an honest, unfiltered adventure crafted by landscape, weather and endurance as much as by the quarry itself.

Our team of four met at Heathrow Terminal 5, rifles and kit in tow, with enough time to navigate the necessary firearm formalities. Provided the paperwork aligned with the airline’s expectations, the process proved relatively straightforward. Within no time at all we were airside seated in Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant enjoying what we joked would be our last “posh meal” for some time. A short connection in Istanbul, where the airport alone feels like a city, delivered us into Almaty in the early hours and we were soon boarding a minibus for the six-hour journey to the foothills.

Kazakhstan’s service stations offered a cultural experience all of their own, and the drive, filled with anticipation, gave us our first glimpse of the landscapes, largely barren sweeping planes until we approached the foothills. At the edge of the foothills, an old Soviet army truck awaited us, our transport for the final hour into base camp. “Camp” in this part of the world means something quite different from what many imagine: simple, functional accommodation, a dining room, running water, and a group of wonderfully good-humoured people who seemed genuinely delighted to have us there.

Before dawn the following morning we were back into the army truck for the ascent into the mountains. It was here we met our guides and just as importantly, the horses; small, tough, impossibly sure-footed animals that would carry us between 20km and 45km per day. Anyone familiar with mountain hunting in these areas will know that the horse is as integral to the expedition as the rifle itself; these Kazakh horses were exceptional and contributed enormously to what followed.

What unfolded over the next five days was some of the most staggering hunting I have ever participated in. Each ridge revealed a new valley, a new skyline, and often a new herd of Ibex. We glassed constantly; spotting scopes saved miles of unnecessary walking as we sieved through the Ibex. The wildlife was unexpectedly varied. We saw Maral, chukar partridge, eagles and a surprising number of smaller birds thriving in the high, windswept terrain. At one point, we even encountered a large bear at no more than 40 yards!

Our fly camps, small, temporary tented caps, were pitched where most suitable, close to the game but not too close. Evenings were spent around a simple meal, the mountains cast in the last light of day, and the kind of silence, other than snoring, that only true wilderness provides.

By the fourth morning, after long climbs and equally long descents, we finally found what we were after: a herd with a mature billy bedded high on a sunlit spine. The group had begun to sense our presence and were becoming restless. When the opportunity presented itself, it was at a challenging 525 metres across the valley. We set up quickly. I dialled the scope, steadied the client, and within seconds the shot broke, controlled and perfectly executed. The Ibex crumpled instantly and fell from the ridge. A wave of elation, relief and gratitude washed over all of us simultaneously, non-more so than the guide. He was likely most relieved!

Crossing the valley with the horses took time, and when we reached the Ibex the guides immediately set to work. Nothing was wasted. In this part of the world, protein is precious, and the respect they showed for the animal was humbling. With heavy saddle bags we made our way back to base camp, where we waited for news of the remainder of the team. Communication in the mountains is almost non-existent, so the sudden appearance of two Ibex on the fifth afternoon, carried proudly into camp by our other clients and their guides, triggered a wave of celebration.

That final night at altitude was spent sharing stories, comparing photographs, and reflecting on what we had just enjoyed. The following morning we descended to civilisation, returned to Almaty for a well-earned night of comfort, and then boarded our flight home to the UK.

We are delighted to have secured the equivalent week again this coming season, with only a handful of spaces remaining for this trip. If you are interested, we would be delighted to hear from you.

This article was taken from the joint JM Osborne Rural & Sporting and William Powell Sporting Winter Newsletter. To read or download a copy of the newsletter please click here.

Article written by Ollie Severn