Wapiti Ballot, Stillwater — 2024
A collection of diary entries over nine days in the Wapiti Area of Fiordland.
In 2023, my friend Anna and I decided to take a punt and enter the Wapiti Ballot for the following bugle. Unsure how successful we’d be, we drew Stillwater — 4th period. An amazing block with plenty of potential for good animals. Both reasonably novice hunters, we set the intention to survive Fiordland and see some animals. If we managed to shoot something, that would just be the ultimate bonus.
What took months of prep — talking to people who’d been in there, reading about the valley and its tops, organising logistics with the four other guys we were sharing the block with, and saving our pennies for the heli — came around really quickly. We were excited and nervous to see what the trip would entail.
At the time, I was in the middle of a big life shift — I’d just moved towns and was navigating the start of the recession, which was having major impacts on my freelance work and income. This trip was more than hunting for me. I needed to be cut off from the world, have a break, reset, and put things back into perspective.
Packing prep, getting dropped at the airport
Setting the Scene
There are four ballot periods of ten days from March through April. We were in the final period — the end of the bugle. Sometimes, animals have quietened down by this stage, and combined with weather events, they can be more in the bush rather than out on the tops or in exposed places. This can dramatically shift how you hunt and what you see and hear.
The ten days prior had seen so much rain that many parties couldn’t get in, and trips were cancelled. We were delayed by a day getting in as helis had to collect groups leaving Fiordland later than expected. Then, on the night we were supposed to be dropped in, rain and snow hit — meaning we headed in on day two of the period. Nerves and excitement were at an all-time high as we sat around waiting for that phone call.
The following entries are pulled from my phone notes — part diary, part download. Some days I was quite detailed, other days I was a little over it. Regardless, nine days in the wild couldn’t have come at a better time.
Waiting in Te Anau, the Wapiti Area & blocks, the boys sharing our block waiting for the heli.
Day One — Saturday
We were up early and checked the weather — cloud clearing, snow on the hills. Southern Lakes Heli called that afternoon and said, “Come on down and wait here; we’ll see if there are any pockets of weather we can get through.”
We pulled up and waited — cracking a can (ginger beer, beer). Three minutes later, we were on and jumped the crew that had been waiting. A four-minute briefing and we loaded our gear. Dropped off first ahead of the boys, who were heading into the other half of the block.
We were on firm ground with our gear; a few tears left their ducts as the heli flew off. This was it — we were alone in here for nine days.
We quickly scouted a camp spot and found one in a clearing further upstream. Heaps of sign. We pitched our tent, opened the cookies, and went to collect firewood. That’s when I heard something run — Anna had just been eye-to-eye with a young six-pointer for about forty seconds before I scared him off. If he was here, there must be others — and they clearly weren’t deterred by the heli. It was 5 p.m., and we’d only been here two hours.
Firewood collected, fire going, dinner done, and packs ready for tomorrow’s mission up to the saddle.
I slept only about four hours — busy brain still waiting to shut off.
Views flying in, our tipi tent, Anna after the heli flew off.
Day Two — Sunday
We left at 8:30 a.m. with the intention of walking. If we saw something, it’d be a bonus, but we weren’t really hunting. No bugling to guide us, but our ears stayed alert.
We ended up on steep terrain that I found difficult — slippery rock, the odd plant to hold onto. Anna, the mountain goat, peered down from above. I tried a couple of access points but called it. I didn’t want to face injury this early.
We climbed back down to look for another way. After a couple of hours, we realised we were only 300 metres from base as the crow flies — not even a quarter of the way there. With only tomorrow as a fine-weather window, we knew we wouldn’t have enough time to get there and back. We’d underestimated the bush and peeled too far from the stream.
We ate lunch by the stream, then followed game trails back to base — much faster and easier. Lesson learnt.
Later, we spotted boot prints in the mud — hard to tell how old they were. It played on my mind.
At 3 or 4 p.m., we wandered along the clearing edge to collect firewood. Sign everywhere — and rain setting in. Then Anna, out in front, spotted a cow. We have signals for “cow” and “bull.” Anna sat down, got out her phone to film. The cow meandered toward us, stopping and barking — Anna barked back. It went on for ten minutes, the cow stomping around giving warning calls across the clearing. Eventually, we stopped and kept walking.
We returned to camp, cozy and grateful. Anna blew up the “mattress boat” we’d bought at The Warehouse to help us cross the stream if it rose. We slept on that — I felt like I was going to roll off all night. Better sleep, but lots of dreams. My mind was still settling in.
Anna climbing above me on the slippery face, lunch by the stream, the Cow in the clearing.
Day Three — Monday
A better sleep but not amazing. Lots of dreams — told Anna about them.
Our plan was to head around the true right of the pond in the bushline and see if there was anything in there. It was meant to be a clear day, so we were keen to dry some gear.
We headed off, following the same trail as when we’d seen the cow. Cool little clearings, plenty of sign, nothing fresh.
Back at camp, we made brekky, strung up a new clothesline, and lay in bed glassing the tops — nothing but rocks and bushes tricking our eyes. Surely they’re there somewhere.
“Tell me when the sun’s here,” Anna said.
I was starting to lose faith it would ever make it into the valley. Roy had warned us: “Take warm clothes — those valleys don’t see much sun.”
By 3ish we were sitting in the clearing again. No animals. We joked about planning a roast.
Awesome firewood tonight. Mash and veg for dinner. Dried some more stuff and plotted tomorrow’s mission — rain was forecast.
Trying to dry gear & glassing from bed, back in the clearing, our cozy tent.
Day Four — Tuesday
Best sleep yet. Almost full moon. Spooning kept us warm, but it was a cold night — I’ll wear two pairs of pants tomorrow night.
Woke late. Brekky and a Tim Tam mocha while it started to rain. We rejigged the tent to stop leaks and waterproof for the next few days.
I checked drainage and distance from the stream again in case of heavy rain — no high-water debris nearby, so think we’ll be okay.
We headed along the true left of the lake with a day pack and lunch. Found some good game trails and scoped the entrance to our planned climb for Friday. Looked good. Couldn’t cross the outlet, so we stopped for lunch in the rain, watching the birds. Quiet. Beautiful.
Back at camp, we were dripping wet but dry underneath thanks to our shells. Tried to get the fire going but smoked out the tent. Dinner was tortellini, mash, veg, and salami — the best yet. I combed and plaited my hair and felt fresh.
Heard distant bugling that night. We bugled back — probably doing more harm than good!
Checking the stream, waterfall flow increased across our stay.
Day Five — Wednesday
Weather report came in: hunker down, prepare for wind and rain for the next 24+ hours.
We secured the tent and fly, checked the stream height — 80mm due. Heard a heli flying low over the tops; ran out excited, wondering if someone had tagged out or just tapped out.
Sore back, stretches, painkillers, magnesium. Our “mattress boat” got a hole overnight, but luckily no flooding. Woke periodically to check if the floor was floating — it wasn’t.
An extra fly over the tipi door helping with weather protection.
Day Six — Thursday
Brekky, and a wander around. My cycle starts (great).
We walked to check crossing points for tomorrow, taking photos and feeling more settled in this place.
Had a bathe in the stream with Dettol and shampoo — felt amazing, standing starkers in the rain. So connected to nature, I could’ve stayed longer but didn’t want to risk not being able to warm up properly.
The rest of the day included naps, reading, and rest. Spirits still high, though the weather was confronting — thunder, lightning, heavy rain. Puddles growing.
Played cards, messaged the boys and the heli company. Decided to try head out Saturday — weather was too unpredictable for the tops. Feeling a bit defeated and ready for home.
But also peaceful. Relaxed. Settled. It had been good to simplify — to read, rest, breathe, and feel the elements. So grateful.
Toasty fire, the weather moving through.
Day Seven — Friday
We had great intentions of heading to the saddle, but woke to sleet and more rubbish weather. Cramps didn’t help.
Still, we went for a walk. Rain turned to snow. We didn’t get far before turning back.
Back at camp, we stripped out of wet clothes and had lunch. Later, the rain cleared and we sat in the clearing, sipping Fireball and chewing tobacco, listening to country and glassing the tops. Couldn’t see anything, but we laughed about fun nights out.
Of course, it started raining again.
Heli confirmed a 2 p.m. pick-up tomorrow. The boys had seen lots of animals and were back on the tops — no mature bulls but good footage.
Inside again — cards, biltong, fire. Moroccan lamb and veg for dinner, apple crumble for dessert. Face mask, reading, and bed. This is living.
Insomnia hit later — maybe Fireball, maybe excitement about getting out of the wet.
Smiling through the sleet (my waterproof gloves are in fact not waterproof), Anna finishing off the Fireball.
Day Eight — Saturday
News came in that the heli couldn’t make it through the weather — delayed until tomorrow.
Absolutely gutted.
We were defeated, barely talking. Decided to go shoot at the parries through the drizzle — thought it might cheer us up.
Packed up main camp and set up the small tent in the clearing for our last night since we hadn’t used it yet. The boys had told us they’d been playing bowls with river rocks, so we gave that a go. Hard to enjoy when you’re over it!
Cold night without the fire, but the moonlight was incredible. Cards again, reflection, and early to bed — excited for pick-up.
Our last night in the small tent we brought, our view across the clearing.
Day Nine — Sunday
Brekky, coffee, final pack-up. The most beautiful, clear morning — typical!
The elation when we finally heard the chopper was next-level. We’d made it. We’d survived. We didn’t quit.
The boys had already been picked up but left an InReach on a log, so we flew to their spot — got a quick tour of the area and a yarn from the pilot. Surreal to think we’d be in civilisation within minutes.
Anna had to head back to Wānaka straight away, but I stayed the night near the airport in Queenstown. Found a cheap room at the Hilton. Grabbed a beer and some chips, called my family, and watched the sunset.
The boys weren’t flying out till the next day, so they came to pick me up. We went to Arrowtown for dinner and drinks, then into town for karaoke. Two hours’ sleep and a serious hangover got me on the plane. What a way to end the trip.
Just before the heli picked us up (stoked), Anna processing what we just did before hitting civilisation again.
Reflections
When we entered the ballot, we said our goal was to survive Fiordland, see some animals, and find some perspective. We did all that. People talk about the rain in there, but I was yet to experience it, and experience it we did. These are the trips that build grit and tolerance for less than ideal conditions. They’re the trips that grind you down to simple survival skills. Where all you have to do is survive the elements, use your knowledge and wits and not float down a swollen stream. It sounds easy and like we didn’t do much but this was an experience in itself.
Obviously, we didn’t shoot a wapiti, but there were plenty of other learnings. Nine days in the bush stripped everything back to what really matters — simplicity, resilience, connection.
Stillwater lived up to its name — a place to pause, breathe, and remember why we do this.
Forever grateful for the experience and that we drew a ballot for our first year entering. Can’t wait to get back in there. Fiordland has me in her grasp. I’ll see her soon.
To find out more about the Fiordland Wapiti Ballot or the foundation that run it, head to www.fwf.net.nz
