Simon K. Barr travels due North in search of the largest land mammals in Iceland’s lava fields. Part 2 of 2.
As we drew closer, the enormity of the herd became apparent. Spread out before us were indeed 50 to 60 reindeer, grazing contentedly in a small valley. Among them, Oli pointed out our target – a magnificent bull with an impressive set of antlers, sporting a remarkable shovel-like formation at the front. “That’s the one,” Oli whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “A mature bull, perfect for your tag. A great example of the species.”
My heart raced as I took in the sight of this majestic animal. But the real challenge lay ahead. The herd was constantly on the move, shifting and milling about in a ceaseless dance. Our target bull was frequently obscured by other animals, making a clean shot nearly impossible. We used every trick in the book to close the distance, taking advantage of the wind direction and using dead ground for cover, much the same as red deer on the hill in Scotland. It was nerve-wracking work, knowing that at any moment, the herd could spook and disappear into the vastness of the Icelandic wilderness. Finally, we reached a position where a shot might be possible. I ranged the bull at 310 yards – a challenging shot under any circumstances, but particularly so with the constant movement of the herd. I dialled in the ballistic correction onto my riflescope, using the data from my rangefinding binoculars.
Settling into position behind my rifle, I deployed the bipod and prepared for the shot. But the bull had other ideas. He moved 90 degrees from his original position, forcing me to reposition my entire setup. This dance continued for what felt like an eternity – find the bull, lose him in the herd, reposition, and start again. My thumb bizarrely ached from using the Can Am throttle for hours of driving, adding an extra layer of discomfort as I grasped the pistol grip of the rifle. The unseasonably warm weather had me sweating beneath my layers, but I dared not move to adjust my clothing. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was likely only minutes, an opportunity presented itself. The bull cleared itself between two other animals and quartered away for a split second, offering a clean shot. Time to react. Taking a deep breath, I settled the crosshairs just behind the bull’s shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The 6.5 Creedmoor barked, sending the 129-grain SST bullet on its way.
The impact was immediate and unmistakable. The bull dropped where he stood, a testament to the remarkable performance of the chosen cartridge and bullet combination. Even at 310 yards, the 6.5 Creedmoor and the 129-grain SST had proven its worth on such a large animal.
As the echoes of the shot faded, replaced by the excited chatter of my hunting pals, I took a moment to reflect on the hunt.
It had been one of my favourite experiences of my hunting career. The vast, unforgiving and open landscape of Iceland had proven to be both a blessing and a curse – offering unparalleled visibility but also providing countless hiding holes in its undulating terrain.
With the bull down, our work was far from over. We still had to extract not only our prize but also our stranded companions from atop the mountain. It was a monumental task, but one that only added to the overall adventure. As we approached the fallen bull, the true majesty of the animal became apparent. With a dressed weight of 98 kilograms, it was a substantial creature. The antlers, with their distinctive shovel-like formation, were even more impressive up close. It was a trophy in every sense of the word, and a fitting reward for the challenges we had overcome.
The extraction process was a major operation in itself. Navigating the treacherous lava fields with our precious cargo required skill and no small amount of luck. The remaining Can Ams soaked up the added weight, their suspensions pushed to the limit on the terrain as we slowly made our way back across the slow terrain. Retrieving Rabbi and Neil from his mountaintop perch added yet more complexity to our journey. Towing was the agreed method but it was no easy task with the terrain as tough as it was. Teamwork and determination managed to bring both men and my beast safely back to our base camp. A job well done, and a good story to boot. The unseasonably balmy temperatures and the rugged, unforgiving nature of the lava fields had pushed our equipment – and ourselves – to the limit, forcing us to adapt our strategies and gear choices on the fly. But in the end, it was these very challenges that made the hunt so memorable. The sight of that magnificent bull, standing proud among his herd. The heart-pounding moments as we stalked ever closer. The split-second opportunity that presented itself, and the satisfaction of a clean, ethical shot.
As I select the images to submit to my editor, my mind is already turning to thoughts of future adventures, but this Icelandic reindeer hunt stands out as a highly memorable experience for its difficulty and the satisfaction of overcoming the obstacles presented by this unique landscape. The hunt tested our skills, patience, and resilience, making it a genuine highlight of my hunting career. I’m already looking forward to a return to Iceland and its extraordinary environment to pursue another reindeer, if of course I am lucky enough to draw another tag in the annual lottery.
KIT BOX
Blaser R8 Professional Success 6.5 Creedmoor rifle
Hornady 6.5 Creedmoor 129-grain SST Superformance