Have you seen the
great gallop of The Man from Snowy River?
I ask because that classic film has been mentioned quite a few times in recent
weeks. Breathtaking as the Australian cowboy’s plunge down the mountainside
might be, the likes of Lynn Lloyd would give him a run for his money any day. I
have been whizzing around California, Nevada and Montana in recent weeks,
hunting behind some intrepid huntsmen and setting hoof where no foxhunter has
hunted before.
Across the wide prairies with, er, six couple of foxhounds...
The whirlwind began
with the Tejon Hounds in central California, hunted for the first time this season by Tyce Mothershead, formerly
of the North Hills in Iowa, and ably assisted by his wife Hilary as first whip and
two-year-old daughter Finley. No hound would dare stray when being
walked out by Finley and when the family saw a coyote on the road, her
immediate reaction was ‘Tally-ho!’ It’s easy to see where her enthusiasm comes
from, as in only a few short months her parents have absorbed the magic of this
vast ranch with its dozen different fixtures, from the lush grasslands above
the orchards to the north-west of the ranch’s central hills to the
flower-strewn meadows on the southern desert side. Three days after closing
hunt, Tyce, Hilary, Cary McWhorter of Full Cry
and Mooreland in Alabama, Tejon cowgirl Kristy Pedotti and me mounted in the
foothills to the west, with the great central Californian plain with its
endless lines of almond and pistachio trees stretching out below and
cloud-shrouded slopes above. Following on quadbikes were acclaimed photographer
Sarah Farnsworth, perched behind Mike Campeau MFH, Sam Andrews, first whip of the
Santa Ynez and soon to be of the Essex in New Jersey, with his photographer girlfriend
Tiffany, and HC Bright, also of Alabama. When we awoke at 5.30am, the lashing rain and
freezing winds were reminiscent more of England than California, where only a
few weeks previously my car temperature gauge had read 82˚ after hunting with
the Santa Ynez, so we got ready in a more leisurely pace than originally
intended, and by the time we unloaded the horses the rain had stopped. I
mounted tall Thoroughbred Joe, Cary the giant draft-cross Dutch and hounds were released.
The vast 270,000-acre Tejon Ranch
So far, so normal, but
Tyce and Hilary were wearing jeans and cowboy boots, Kristy was in full Western
gear on an impressively chilled and responsive quarter horse (he’s for sale, by
the way!) and the hounds were not a typical pack of foxhounds. In
collaboration with Peter and Amanda Wilson of the Grand Canyon Hounds, the
Arizonan desert of which bears similarities to the dusty Californian slopes (at
least, when El Niño isn’t chucking a last bucket down), sighthound strains are
being introduced to this pack, making for an attractive and effective mix. When
the grass is short and dry, coyotes are often more easily seen than scented, and
the speeds attained by these leggy, fleet hounds can be spectacular. A patchy
run got us all going, horses as keen as hounds, before we hit on a coyote and
reached top gear in seconds. I overran a gate, Joe’s brakes not being his most
finely tuned aspect, which opened up a gap between me and Tyce. A gap that gave
me one of the thrilling runs of my life, as we left Cary and Kristy far behind
and tore to the top of a hill, slowing momentarily before Joe sighted Tyce
ahead and took charge, speeding down a stone-strewn slope, up to a deep ditch
that reminded me briefly of Ireland before we flashed up the other side and
caught up with Tyce, popping a coop and viewing the coyote as it raced along
the side of a gully. It darted left and out of our sight, hounds in hot pursuit
as we kicked on and upwards to the base of the hills, where Hilary viewed the
coyote into a deep tree-lined gorge that led into a ravine. We gave it best,
not wanting to lose the pack in the steep-sided hills, and stopped to gather the hot, tired and very happy hounds. The three of us were the only ones visible in
the landscape, our horses far faster than the others and the quad-bikes. They
eventually caught up!
Come on Dad, let's go! Horses and hounds keen as mustard
Pit stop at a handy pool
Full speed!
Calling up hounds after Wil E. Coyote disappeared into the ravine
The photographers arrive at last and get to work!
The day wasn’t over by
any means, and it wasn’t long before we found again, racing west down the
grassland. I stayed on Tyce’s heels (not that Joe would have had it any
different – being a huntsman’s horse, he couldn’t understand why he had to keep
his nose behind another horse!) and was duly impressed when Tyce didn’t bother
with anything as dull as slowing down before crossing ditches and steep gullies
– man from Snowy River personified! As the sun came out, we hit another line in
a rough covert that led past the orchards, circling at speed til the scent
dried and we stopped for a welcome drink at a stream excitedly scampering with
more energy than any watercourse I had seen in California. One last draw was in
a great green field that led up to the foothills, inviting but treacherous, the
unusually long grass concealing large rocks that prevented any speed faster
than a careful trot. If hounds had found here, an aerial view would have looked
uncannily like the velociraptor chase scene in Jurassic Park… It drew blank,
but we were treated to glorious views as the clouds parted and a conveniently
positioned herd of cattle took Tyce back to his cowboy roots. Hilary and I
swung the long way round, following the fenceline down a slope that made the
Hickstead Derby bank look like child’s play. Honestly, I don’t know what those
showjumpers make such a fuss about!
Bit o' weather
Just your average hunt follower...
Cowboy Tyce heads to the last draw
Glorious grass, until you realise there are rocks lurking amid the green
As the sun began to
sink across the central plain, we piled into Tyce’s truck for a magical drive
up into the mountains in the centre of the ranch, stopping for windswept
photographs amid slopes crowded with Californian poppies. Heading off-road to
one of the highest spots on the ranch, the full moon rose behind bare trees as the
sun sank in a blaze of gold and dusk turned the deep dells and pine-clad slopes
purple. The wind meant the elk and wild boar were sheltering far below, but the
wild beauty of this landscape, managed entirely for the game and thus
unblemished by the hand of man, needed no embellishment. The Tejon Ranch is a magnet for hunters, who come to
Into the wilds
Not the most expected sight: the giant pipes carrying two million
gallons of water a minute to the taps of California
A California poppy struggles to open in the gale
Photographer Sarah at work amid the poppies.
No colour adjustment done!
We hunted down there - the great run began from the knoll in the centre
Evening light on the central plain
Looking forward to seeing the results of this shot...
The wild interior
Tyce Mothershead: lord of all he surveys
The Moon rises
Tyce, Sarah, Cary and HC as the light falls
Happy quartet! Me, Tyce, Sarah and Cary
The following morning,
yet another and very different side of the ranch was revealed to us, as Tyce
and his trusty truck took us far from the road on the south, desert side of the
ranch, past the ‘African savannah’ where Taylor Swift filmed her music video for
Wildest Dreams, and into drifts of wildflowers, hundreds upon hundreds of vivid
yellow and blue flowers carpeting the high-desert slopes. Tyce related stories
of coyote runs into the valleys, remembering every twist and turn of the chase.
We spotted one coyote and Tyce glimpsed a bobcat, though frustratingly it had
disappeared from sight by the time I found the right spot. One animal I have
yet to spot – one day!
Yes, those are all wildflowers
Obligatory model shot!
And again! Note our appropriately flowered shirts. No flies on us!
At last, enough warm sunshine for the poppies to open
iPhone vs professional
Looking south to the desert
Sarah, Cary, HC and me with Tejon guide extraordinaire Tyce
It was nigh impossible
to drag ourselves away from the flower-strewn slopes, but we had a long way to
go – 450 miles up Highway 395 on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevadas to
North Lake Tahoe. A slap-up breakfast at the Old Desert Café in the Mojave
Desert set us up properly for a spectacular drive, snowy peaks to our left and
sage-brush dotted desert to our right. A bleak world of blue sky, white
mountains and brown desert, yet beautiful in its unforgiving vastness.
We just had to stop here!
And here!
Mono Lake with its weird salt tufa towers on the edge
Cary worked her magic
with Google and found us a delightful place to stay, Rustic Cottages on the
northern shores of the lake, with a wood-burning stove, comfortable beds and
even enough snow on the ground for the requisite snowball fight. Friendly staff
and a tasty breakfast made for a perfect night – I highly recommend staying
here. We arrived in the dark, but in the morning the views from the beach yards
from our cabin were as spectacular as I had been led to believe, the air so
clear that the furthest shore looked mere miles away – it was more than 20. The
water was crystal clear, too; indeed, the lake is 99.994% pure, only 0.004%
less pure than commercially distilled water, and an awful lot better tasting.
Being a hugely popular ski resort, I was concerned that the lake shores would
be crowded and ugly with buildings, but it was quite the opposite – sitting in
the warm sunshine looking out over this great bowl in the mountains, 6,000ft
up, I couldn’t see evidence of another soul. The pine-clad slopes and sparkling
peaks appeared empty of ski lifts and hotels, even though I knew they were
there somewhere. This is a gorgeous place: I will be back. This time, however, only a brief stay was possible - next stop, Red Rock Hounds, Reno!
Lake Tahoe at last, and as beautiful as I hoped.
The mountains on the far side are about 20 miles away,
yet the air was so clear it felt as if I could touch them.
Glorious
The delightful Tahoe Vista Rustic Cottages. Recommended!
Our cosy cabin, complete with snow for snowball fights.
By the time I took this pic, most of it had been used
What a view!
HC and happy girls
