I’d been dreaming about hunting on horseback in Kyrgyzstan for a very long time. Wild places, wild animals, and new cultures fuel my passion for adventure. Hunting has taken all of us to wilderness, marshes, rivers, and remote locations we wouldn’t have otherwise seen. For that reason alone, we are blessed, we are the lucky ones, we are the wild ones.
Years ago, I watched Mike Babcock (Detroit Redwings) and Rob Dunham (Magnum TV) on television chasing Mid- Asian ibex and Hume Argali (Marco Polo) on horseback in the Tian Shan mountains of Kyrgyzstan. I immediately had the fever and decided I had to go on that hunt at some point in my life. In early 2021, we started planning to hunt Kyrgyzstan in October.
Kyrgyzstan, or Kyrgizia, sits within the massive Tian Shan Mountain Range, and the country is surrounded by China, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Tajikistan. The Tian Shan are one of the world’s largest mountain ranges, and 95% of the Kyrgyz Republic is mountainous. They are also known as the Tengri Tagh, meaning the mountains of heaven or the heavenly mountains. It is a low-income nation, and hunting has provided a sustainable cycle for both wildlife populations and income for the local people.
The Naryn River flows from east to west through the country where it enters Uzbekistan. North of the Naryn, you will find the Tian Shan Argali, which is not currently importable into the USA due to lack of research relative to the species. We would be hunting south of the Naryn where you will find healthy populations of the Hume Argali and Mid-Asian ibex.
To hunt Asia, simply getting to your hunting destination is always half of the adventure. We boarded the plane in Istanbul for the five-hour flight to Bishkek, the capital and the largest city in the Kyrgyz Republic. Upon our arrival, we loaded the team into two Toyota Landcruisers for the 15-hour drive to basecamp. We began climbing into the mountains as soon as we crossed the Naryn, and the last seven hours of driving consisted of dirt roads, trails, and creek crossings. It was some of the most remote and rugged country I’d ever seen.
After going through the last of the numerous remote Kyrgyz military outposts, we paralleled the border with China for the last several hours of our journey before arriving in basecamp. Our home for the next 10 days sat in a valley roughly a mile from the Chinese border. The towering peaks inside China climbed north of 18,000 feet into the clouds. It was like God built a mountain fence to separate the two countries. As we unpacked our gear, I watched as the storm clouds rolled in and the temperatures crashed. The horses were content in the round pen as I stared at them in admiration. They were as tough as the cold, rocky ground they stood on. Tomorrow, they would carry us up and down the Tian Shan in pursuit of some of the finest mountain game the world has to offer.
We woke up to a snowstorm and howling wind, but we were eager to get out in the mountains, so we saddled up and rode out. We rode up and down drainages for five hours without seeing any game. I had a pounding headache, nausea, and fever that I presume was brought on by the altitude. At one point, I thought I might fall off my horse. I self-medicated with Diamox tablets I had brought along for the altitude, and
I recovered quickly. The air seemed thinner than normal for 13,000 feet. The snow continued and visibility was poor, so we made the decision to return to camp for the day to prevent spooking game we couldn’t see.
Day two brought more snow early followed by wind, but the sky was relatively clear. As we made our way down the valley, sheep covered the hillsides. It was truly a spectacular sight. There were around 250 ewes grazing on the south side of the drainage. As we looked north, we spotted six rams. At least two of them were shooters, so we closed the distance on horseback before snaking up the drainage on foot. One of the shooters was bedded at 450 yards, and it was immediately clear he was over 50". However, there were 15 ewes feeding that had us pinned down. We waited them out for two hours before they went over the top, allowing us to make a move on the ram. He was bedded and slightly quartering left to right, giving us a clear view of his curl. I squeezed off the .300 Win Mag and the ram piled up 70 yards later after running over the top of the hill.
I couldn’t believe the sheer size of the animal in both body and horn. They are truly massive, spectacular mountain sheep. I stared in amazement as I imagined the neck strength required to hold such impressive horns atop his head, much less to carry them up and down these mountains. I was euphoric as I rode back to basecamp and took in the magnificent views of the snow- covered peaks and gin-clear streams in the valley of the Tian Shan. Although I was living it, it was hard to believe we were on horseback in remote Asia hunting sheep. I thought of my grandfather, and I wished he was here to see it.
That evening, we feasted on fresh Marco Polo, pickled vegetables, bread, and copious amounts of Kyrgyz vodka. The team was ecstatic and well fed. We listened to Vladmir tell stories long into the night about the hunting history in Kyrgyzstan and the history of the Kyrgyz Republic. He opened hunting in this country, and he is one of the finest gentlemen I’ve ever met. Tomorrow morning, we would rise early to make a plan for the ibex, but tonight belonged to the celebration accompanied by lifetimes of hunting stories with true friends.
Preparations are always better over strong coffee and a large breakfast. The temperatures were in the low teens, and the windchill was in the low single digits. More snow had fallen overnight, and we donned our three-layer rain gear over our insulation kit to block the wind. Sitting on a horse generating no body heat would be brutal without proper protection. I hoped my horse had slept hard and recharged for the climb ahead.
The ride from basecamp was beautiful. We climbed nearly straight up and out of camp, zig zagging from peak to peak. At times, the horses were knee deep in the snow from the wind drifts. Our Kyrgyz guides were very experienced mountain hunters, and they were executing their plan to perfection. We were targeting a very large group of ibex, which meant a lot of eyes on overwatch trying to pick up approaching predators. Snow leopards and wolves are the natural predators in the Tian Shan.
After five hours of riding and glassing into drainages in a 30-mph blistering wind, I thought perhaps the animals had moved. Suddenly, one of the guides made eye contact to grab the rifle. He had spotted the herd just below us. We low crawled on our stomachs for nearly 50 yards when I saw them. There were three billies bedded below us from 350-400 yards. One of the billies was very big with good hooks and great mass. He was bedded and quartered away from us downhill at 350 yards. I had a steady rest on the bipod, and the bullet anchored him in his bed. It was over; I had just taken an old Mid-Asian ibex. As the shot rang out and echoed off the canyon walls, an incredibly large herd of billies ran up the opposite side of the drainage. There were over 150 animals in the group, and it was incredible to see them pour out of the drainage. It brought a smile to my face as I witnessed how well the population was doing with mature animals. My ibex was over 12 years old with a magnificent beard. I ran my hands over the horns in awe of my old mountain monarch. He had heavy bases and incredible length, and his body was built like a tank.
The ride back to camp was euphoric once again. We dropped down into the drainage and took in the surrounding peaks. I grinned to the team as our guide rode ahead down the valley with my trophy strapped to the side of the saddle. It was a moment I’ll never forget. The horses realized our hunt was over, and it was a horserace back to camp once we hit the valley floor of the main drainage. They charged up the valley, leaving the guides behind as if their celebration had already started. They had a fresh meal waiting for them in the round pin, and their mission was accomplished. They had carried three Americans and two Kyrgyz guides up and down the Tian Shan for three days, and they did their jobs to perfection.
The next morning, I was walking around camp and saw one of the women stuffing sausage into the casings taken from the stomach of my harvests. There were nine piles of meat with nine different families’ names written on notebook paper naming each pile. It made us happy to know that local families would be eating fresh, protein-rich mountain game from our adventure. It was the great big circle of conservation on full display. We paid them for the hunt-of-a-lifetime which will continue to give those animals value for years to come, and although two animals were taken from the mountains, they would feed a village.
I will look back on this hunt as one of the finest mountain hunts in the world. The Kyrgyz people are wonderful, hardworking, tough horsemen, and incredible hosts. They are proud of their culture, and they live a simple life absent of the stresses of the western world. The animals and the mountains in which they live are truly majestic. I pray that I can come back one day and hunt with my children on horseback in the remote and unforgiving Tian Shan mountains.
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