I’ve known about red stag in Argentina for a long while, but there was always somewhere else I wanted to go so it’s never been a priority. This all changed when I got an email from Field Ethos and their Outrider group about hunt opportunities down there. They had a couple lodge options, but after a long call with them it became apparent there was no other choice but Tupungato. Due to work obligations I couldn’t make the rut but could make the last week of the season.

I killed a giant in New Zealand, one in Spain and two in Slovakia. I was well aware of Argentina but knowing what New Zealand cost me, I wasn’t anxious about it. The FEO price was right and left budget room for an upgraded animal. I’ve already done two trips with FEO - Running of the Bulls and their Georgia Quail Hunt, plus Australia which wasn’t an FEO trip but was a result of their 2024 hunt report - so I was confident that the trip would be prime.

I opted to travel early and spend two nights in Buenos Aires. It’s not what I thought it would be. It felt pretty sketchy. Evidence of its history was everywhere, a landscape dominated by dreary concrete buildings and little to no appearance of modernization. It was a city still emerging from its past. I did venture out to a local festival and enjoyed the dancing and festivities. This was my only highlight of the city.

A short flight from Buenos Aires got me to Mendoza. It was gorgeous. As the wine capital of Argentina, the money clearly flowed. My time there was short as we ran through town to pick up who would be the only other hunter in camp, a Marine vet from Florida and former Chief Shooting Instructor for the National Sporting Clays Association. Our 90-min luxury shuttle to the Tupungato lodge took us out of Mendoza, through countryside and villages, before coming up a rise overlooking a gorgeous wine valley with the Andes as the backdrop. We were handed off to a guide at the property entrance. It was a couple of miles winding through a walnut grove and vineyard to arrive at the lodge. It was classy, stunning.

My room was great. Plenty of space for gear, private bathroom. Food was fantastic. Appetizers, lot of variety with the meals, and the wine was the best I’ve had.

The lodge operators spoke English while the help spoke none. All were extremely friendly, accommodating and excited to have us. The weather all week was spectacular but expected to turn for the worse by the end of the week. This was evident by the wind - it was blowing 15-20 with higher gusts all week. Snow appeared on the mountains the second morning and by the day we left, we had snow at the lodge.

My guide didn’t speak much English. Didn’t matter. Between hand gestures and the general language common among hunters, we understood each other. When I wanted his estimate on a stag’s score I’d pull out my phone, show a photo of the upgrade chart with size ranges and he’d point to the range. Even being post-rut and end of the season we saw a lot of animals. And they were all giants. The hunt price included a stag up to 340 SCI but we never saw any that “small.” We drove roads and walked ridges constantly, stepping out of the truck to look into draws and valleys to see what may be down there. We usually saw something that, anywhere else, I’d say, “Let’s go,” but not here. This was Argentina and here there be giants.

I intended to take one with a bow. After New Zealand I felt confident that one day I’d like to try it. We got close several times but the wind was wicked tough and busted us every time. Our best opportunity came on a long stalk, most of which was done on our bellies. We spotted two stags in a valley and so we walked down the backside of a ridge and skirted up to within 200 yards and then hit the ground. Hands and knees, trying to stay lower than the knee-high grass around us, until we got to about 50 yards. The target stag was bedded so we could see the top half of his antlers. We figured we needed to get a little bit closer to find an opening and then the wind shifted and you could see, by the way the antlers turned, he was looking right at us. Moments later it stood and didn’t even wait. It bolted. We were done.

That evening as we headed back to camp, we spotted a nice stag so I grabbed the bow and off we went. We got to a rise and peeked over and there he was at 40 yards. The wind had shifted during the walkup and now was coming directly behind us and into him as he was facing straightaway. I was nocked and ready. He never turned, eventually just looked back at us, winded us, and took off.

The second-to-last day I borrowed a ranch rifle. Decent gun, .300 Win Mag, decent optic (can’t recall brands). The rifle did not fit me well and my shot was from prone so I wound up getting a gold medal scoping, seriously I’ve never seen so much of my own blood, but it made a helluva photo.

The 150-yard shot was good and as he stood and wobbled I put one more into him. I was impressed as we walked up, as were the guides. It was a stud stag for sure. It green scored 464” and had about 10” of broken tines.

Once the photos were done and the meat and head were packed, the guide and I took turns packing it out. I don’t mind taking my time on a hunt but it sure was nice to have a relaxing day in camp before it was time to come home.

Relaxing doesn’t mean lazy. We were back on the mountain and with both the Marine Veteran and I tagged out, we headed deeper in the Andes range in search of llama. We found a herd that had to have numbered 400. The Marine killed one at what had to be 700 yards and mine was about 300 yards across a very steep ravine. The meat was packed out for guests coming later in the year.

We woke up on the departure day to a couple of inches of snow on the ground. I enjoyed the trip out of this beautiful country back into civilization. Due to some strange airline screw-up I wound up flying from Buenos Aires to New York City and then back to North Carolina and, strangely, arriving an hour before I was originally supposed to. This long put-off trip was well worth it. I still would like to get back down there someday with my bow.