I had been at the same spot, chasing the same stag, for the past three weekends.
On Sunday, I finally caught it.
I was carrying a full pack of venison back to camp when I slipped, fell down a bank, and broke my foot.
Called Dad to let him know what had happened, and told him I was going to try and make it out.
It took more than two hours through dense bush and rough terrain.
I didn’t know it at the time, but dad had called the Rescue Helicopter. .
I left my campsite, which was in a clearing, and went back into the bush. In hindsight I did the wrong thing.
There was a sense of pride with hunters that says “it’s not that bad, I don’t need to call for rescue.”
I felt I knew the area well enough that I could get out, even though I’m not the most experienced hunter.
I was embarrassed to call for help, because it might’ve been a sprain. If I thought it was a bit more serious I would’ve, but I didn’t want to pull them away from something more important.
I had extra food and water, a tent, a GPS and a personal locator beacon. But did not activate the beacon.
I had all the right gear but didn’t use it!
The rescue helicopter eventually found me on a farm, bordering the bush, and airlifted me to Hospital.
