An English country girl in California: June 2016

There's something about setting off into unknown lands, where no foot, hoof or pad has been before. Few of us get the chance these days, with almost every corner of the earth penetrated and plundered. Explorers today rue that they weren't born in an earlier century, when there were still areas of the map marked 'here be dragons'. But one Sunday in April, followers of the Big Sky Hounds in Montana set off across a prairie where the music of the hounds had never been heard. We were true pioneers, just as the Big Sky is in this vast, beautiful state, where the clarity of the air means the skies are as big as legends say and English saddles are rare.

Montana. Big Sky country indeed.

Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki

Lynn Lloyd has brought the Red Rock Hounds to the remote town of Three Forks at the headwaters of the Missouri River for years, where a hunt member owned the Sacajawea Hotel, a white-painted building with a statue of a bison outside and a welcoming verandah. It was named for the Lemhi Shoshone woman who, with her French-Canadian husband Touissaint Charbonneau, guided explorers Lewis and Clark on their great adventure, giving birth with hardy insouciance en route and arranging the hire of the horses from her Shoshone chief brother that allowed the expedition to continue west. Her story is extraordinary; read more here. In more recent years, Kail Mantle and Renee Daniels-Mantle of Montana Horses has run their herd of 400 horses through Three Forks from winter to summer pastures, often assisted by fox-hunters, their experience of fast work on rough ground proving invaluable. Sadly, the drive ended a few years ago, but they still keep more than 100 horses on the banks of the Missouri. The Red Rock hired horses from them and a friendship was born. Kail and Renee soon caught the hunting bug and, after a night of drinking whisky with Lynn in 2013, woke up to find a couple of hounds on their ranch and Renee the newest huntsman in the West.

A noble bison outside the Sacajawea Hotel, Three Forks

A statue of the Shoshone woman Sacajawea across the

street from the hotel that bears her name

Renee Daniels-Mantle, cowgirl MFH on King

So what next, chaps?

Kail Mantle in his element

Now, fox-hunters from across America descend on Bozeman Airport every April for a weekend of hunting, partying and melt-in-the-mouth beef (I realised on my return after a week in Montana that I had eaten beef, whether steak, burger or prime rib, every single night, and it was worth every extra pound in weight). No fewer than 12 packs were represented, from the Amwell Valley in New Jersey to the Santa Ynez Valley Hounds in California, the Mission Valley in Kansas to the Cloudline in Texas. The latter, led by Susan Gentry MFH, had hauled their horses all the way from the bottom of the US to the top, surviving a nasty moment on black ice in the Rockies en route. But they're an intrepid lot, these Big Sky devotees, setting off up canyons and down cliffs with ease on shaggy ranch horses. Suki Flash of the Green Mountain Hounds in Vermont was even sporting her own homemade full-length chaps in soft, supple deerskin.

Japan-born professional skier Kenji Aoki, now of Montana

Don Palus of Santa Ynez, veteran of the English shires

Who said you can't wear English dress with Western tack?

Sophia of Las Vegas shows how it's done

Suki Flash of Green Mountain in her handmade chaps

Hunt staff with visitors from the Cloudline, Texas

We met at the Mantle ranch on Friday morning to mount up an assortment of horses on an assortment of saddles. Steeds ranged from my round, steadfast Drogan to Mary Tiscornia’s gorgeous grey Arab, whom she partners to great success in the little-known, to me, sport of Ride andTie, where teams of two runners and one horse race across country. Apparently, it’s the swiftest way of covering distance with only one horse. We set off into the steep canyons leading to the stubble uplands farmed by Bob and Pat Green above the Mantle Ranch, where hounds found almost immediately and took off. Those of us on the ranch horses, for whom this was the first serious exercise of the year, were left behind somewhat, but we followed valiantly in their wake and caught up at an old cabin where we were greeted by the ‘whoopee wagon’ and a cargo of Bloody Marys. In the high, dry atmosphere, it was most welcome for humans, hounds and horses alike.

Kail gives a refresher course on Western riding.

Rule no 1: don't hang on the horse's mouth

The ever elegant Lynn Lloyd moves off from the Mantle Ranch

Graceful Mary Tiscornia leads Don of the Los Altos, California,

Dale of the Santa Ynez, California and Cathy Evans of both the

Red Rock, Nevada and Amwell Valley, New Jersey

Charge!

Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki

Not your average field master: Kail leads third flight

Bloody Mary stop on the Greens' land

Lynn with the great Vinnie

Lynn Lloyd MFH, Angela Murray MFH and a very happy Kail!

Bob’s father and grandfather had farmed these wild uplands before him, but neither had encountered hounds before. When Lynn and Renee first asked if they could hunt his land, he immediately agreed, but it wasn’t until he climbed a hill and saw a coyote followed by hounds followed by horses that he realised what they were talking about. Verdict: ‘I loved it!’ For those of us who hunt in the crowded Eastern states of the US or in Britain, the idea of having such a huge area of virgin land just waiting to be opened up is intoxicating. Hunting here means taking an elk with a rifle or bow, not a pack of foxhounds, but the Big Sky Hounds are swiftly growing in popularity and support. For the present, Renee is hunting with 12½ couple of retired Red Rock Tenessee Walker hounds, an ideal situation as it gives hounds that have grown too slow for their fast-paced Nevada home a new lease of life and Renee can learn from their experience. Although she will always keep the older hounds for slower days, the next step is to start a breeding programme of her own. Sensible of the large task ahead of her, she is enrolled in the MFHA’s Performance Development Programme, invaluable for learning from professional huntsmen, but, equally sensibly, she intends to breed for her own, unique, country, perhaps trying Penn-Marydels for their resonant voices and cold noses. Next stop: building kennels.

One of Lynn's handsome Tennessee Walkers enjoys the rest

Lynn and her hounds, the oldest ones of which find a new

home in Big Sky country

No words necessary

One of the Big Sky's first hounds, Christopher, sadly passed away on the hunting field, but he is still benefitting the hunt through the Christopher Fund. At the hunt ball on the Saturday night, a beautiful platter carved in his honour was auctioned off to raise funds for the hunt. The successful bidder would have their name carved on the back, and be entitled to keep it for a year, after which it would be auctioned again. It was one of several ways in which this youthful pack is laying the foundations of their own history, as they embrace ancient hunting traditions. Colours were awarded to dedicated members and we all toasted the news that the Big Sky is now registered with the MFHA. There was a heartwarming sense of this remote pack being welcomed into the hunting community, taking up old ways that are valued all the more for being fresh.

The Christopher Fund

Me (check out the cowboy boots) with the Amwell Valley crew

Me with Dale Hoeffliger, roommate and Santa Ynez president

Anything goes! Full hunt dress all the way to cowboy attire

The evening also gave rise to one of the more surreal moments of my life, during the after-dinner entertainment provided by Kail, as accomplished with a guitar as on horseback, and the deep-voiced country singer TJ Casey. Kail called me on stage, a summons I obeyed with trepidation given my own gullibility and Kail’s sense of humour. My instructions were to hold TJ’s nose closed so that he could imitate the nasal tones of legendary Texan-born singer Willie Nelson – to great effect, judging by the applause. Definitely one of the most memorable hunt balls I’ve attended, and I’ve been to a few!

Who needs a campfire when you have TJ Casey?

Kail singing one of his wickedly amusing songs...my personal favourite:

No Mares, about the buckskin mare

Am I really doing this?

Apparently, it works!

Wende Crossley and Mary Tiscornia of Red Rock with

Dale of Santa Ynez

Carousing with a legend: me and Lynn Lloyd

The new generation: Angela Murray MFH and Renee Daniels-Mantle MFH

The following morning, we set off into the unknown. Western gear was the order of the day – indeed, as Renee pointed out, wearing cowboy attire here shows respect to the local way of life, just as wearing a smart coat and polished boots shows respect to British landowners. The Red Rock staff stayed English as befitted their horses, but Renee was resplendent in cowboy hat and jeans aboard the handsome paint King. I donned my cowboy boots, but, as I was riding the off-the-track Thoroughbred Hank, I retained my helmet. He had behaved badly on the first day, but after two days of schooling from Kail he was on cracking form. With clouds scudding across a sapphire sky, we headed towards the distant, diamond-bright snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Hounds scattered before us like beads from a broken necklace, dark specks against the dry grass. No coverts here, nothing to impede progress bar the odd strand of barbed-wire fence and the pesky post-and-wire gates. (They were a pain to drag open when I was a wrangler on the Bitterroot Ranch in Wyoming. Wire really is a pernicious invention!)

Cowgirl chic

Me on Hank, playing safe!

Setting off into the unknown

Lynn with Big Sky first-field master Lori Dooley

Hounds draw the big country

Lynn, Mary and Renee give a good lead

Angela Murray's indefatigable poodle keeps a look out

at the break. She literally rang rings around the hounds

Climbing a rocky knoll and scrambling down the other side, we crossed a snow-filled ditch and hounds went up a gear: they were on a scent. We took off at full speed, Hank extending his stride to fly across the ground as if it was the Derby course. The pack clearly relished the going, too, and despite the dry winter grass gave us the hoped-for quick thing. I couldn’t stop grinning and nor could anyone else – fortunately, the margaritas that bounced their way to us on the back of a quad with Ron Crossley and Brian Lessinger proved to be just the thing for soothing scratchy throats! We capped the day with a climb to a high plateau, some 6,500ft high, with caviar-lobster-rare-roast-beef-mint-ice-cream-with-cherry-on-top-feast-for-the-eyes views in all directions. Simply spectacular.

First field on top of the world

Howdy there!

Big skies and big smiles!

An even bigger smile!

Lynn and Renee reflect on a job well done

Sliding off the edge of the cliff we had a quick wash and brush-up before assembling at the home of chuck-wagon cook extraordinaire Pixie Elmose, standing alone in the middle of the windswept plain. Pixie had enchanted us all by singing at the ball the night before, and she serenaded us again, her sweet voice floating out across the darkened landscape as the stars blazed out above. I thought of the words of TJ Casey’s song In my Blood, ‘in the land of the buffalo, where the mustangs roam their country wild and free…wherever I roam, home’s calling me’. Wherever I roam from now on, I will leave a part of me in this glorious state.

Gentle hack home

Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki

I survived!

Pixie, whose voice and food are to die for

A lonely homestead in the West

Antelope raced along the stubble as the sun set

Last of the sun on the distant peaks

Most of the foxhunters left the following day, but I was lucky enough to curl up on the Mantle Ranch for a little while longer, listening to stories of the great horse drive (oh, to have known Kail and Renee five years ago!), eating, you’ve guessed it, more beef, and, to my delight, taking King Tut off for a few hours’ ramble around the hills. I haven’t ridden on my own since I took my darling Welsh Cob Tina around the lush fields of Tipton Hall Riding School in Herefordshire (great place to ride if you’re in the area!), and it was bliss to be alone with the crystal air, soaring hawks and incredible views. We stopped for a muffin and a treat in a sheltered canyon and loped back across the valley in time for tea. Bliss.

Mantle Ranch cabins, Democrat on the left, Republican on the right!

Both very comfortable

View!

Heading down out of the winds

My trusty companion, Tut

Off into the wide blue yonder

Which way now?

Looking down to the Mantle Ranch

A beaver!

Sunset over the Missouri River

Lord of all he surveys

There was one more treat in store before I moved on: another day’s hunting! It was a Wenchday, so called because of the predominance of women – come on chaps, where are you?! – and it was a treat to see Renee hunting her own pack. We met on the swish Gallatin River Ranch, the owners of which requested we wear formal dress, and we spent a happy morning clambering up steep cliffs as hounds worked busily, rewarded with a couple of quick things. I rode Hank again and he was perfect, never fussing on the hills and proving he has quite a jump on him when he took fright at a twig and leapt a stream as if it was Becher’s Brook. Renee listened to her hounds and quietly encouraged them, never harrying and totally absorbed in the landscape. This is a glorious country to hunt, and in Renee, the Big Sky has a fine leader. Here’s to many more wonderful seasons under Montana’s skies!