The Wright stuff

Exmoor, Brendon Two Gates

HOUNDS bounded down the hunt lorry ramp and, without preamble, flowed through the open gate on to the moor at Brendon Two Gates.

Heads down, they set to work methodically drawing away from us. Their huntsman, Tony Wright, quietly rode beside them. Unbound by occasion, these hounds are granted the luxury of all the time in the world to do themselves justice.

There was no whipper-in, just a handful of very hardy riders wrapped up against gale-force winds and forecasted heavy showers. A brave rainbow shimmered on the horizon and within its silhouette a deceit of golden plover lifted ahead of hounds, swirling as though it was a still summer’s day despite the wind taking away our breath.

We crossed the road to Holcombe Burrows where this end of the coombe kept out the wind so seemed eerily silent. At last, a chance to catch up