‘Everything a huntsman would want’
catherine.austen@futurenet.com
North Cornwall, Camelford, Cornwall
IN 1944, from Cornwall’s Davidstow Airfield where the North Cornwall met, the Royal Air Force flew Bristol Beaufighters to cover the west flank of the Normandy landings.
Conditions were what could only be politely described as “formidable”. It was a pity our day’s hunting wasn’t postponed 24 hours like the Normandy landings due to adverse weather.
I jest not when I say it was touch and go as to what would happen when we opened the car door, as winds – straight off Bodmin Moor – battered anything in the way.
But these are hardy people – only a handful of riders wore waterproofs over their hunting coats. There was an element of pride in this statement which did not extend to the ingenious tactics practised at the meet, hosted by the supporters’ club, as foot-followers and the field alike prevented spilt port slaking the wind’s wrath.
Hounds huddled on top of the Cornish bank by the side of the road near the cattle grid leading down to Tremail. Their eyes were slits against rain that stung as if handfuls of glass smithereens
