The Storyteller: The wild hunt is on...

Now that spring is upon us, and the weather is trying to improve, I’ve been tempted up onto the moors for a spot of walking and letterboxing.

The other Saturday afternoon, I set off along the lane leading to Lud Gate and headed up onto Buckfastleigh Moor, below The Pupers. This is a vantage point that gives stunning views of the surrounding landscape, which includes Buckfast Abbey and the lone spire of Holy Trinity Church, the only one of its kind on Dartmoor. It was very lucky that it survived the tragic fire of 1992.

As you crest the hill, with the views behind you, you are gifted with another fabulous vision, that of Eastern Whittabarrow, also known as The Sub. Originally, a Bronze Age cairn, or burial mound, that, over subsequent years, had a conning tower added to it, so now it resembles a submarine, dominates the skyline overlooking the Avon Dam and its reservoir.

On a neighbouring hilltop stands the enigmatically named Heap of Sinners, with Huntingdon Warren Farm below, which was to be my goal that day, until events and the weather overtook me...

As I neared a main, well-worn track that leads up to the outcrops and cairn of The Pupers, I encountered a group of walkers crossing my path, obviously practicing for Ten Tors, or the Duke of Edinburgh award, as their backpacks clearly displayed their team number.

It was then I became aware of a lot of noise coming from further down the hill, in the direction towards which the walkers were heading. Whistling and whooping, like a large rabble was gathering. Suddenly, the recently peaceful moorland became very busy, and I could see many horses with riders below me.

It was when horns started to be blown and hounds started barking that I realised I was witnessing a hunt in full flight, but, fortunately, no foxes were in evidence. They had a few outriders, both on horses and quad bikes, some wearing their traditional red jackets, who were checking out their intended route, for fear of potential saboteurs maybe, but when the whole hunt, with their pack of hounds, charged up the hillside near to me, it was quite a sight, if not a little bit intimidating, as you no longer know their true intentions...

This reminded me of another occasion when I witnessed a hunt out on Dartmoor. This time it was in the Rowbrook area, overlooking the Dart. As usual, I was engaged in a bit of letterboxing when, all of a sudden, the quiet moorland tranquillity was rent asunder by the high-pitched hollering of a woman coming from a house on the opposite hillside, “Get your bloody dogs out of my garden!” she screamed.

As I looked in her direction, I could see a pack of hounds had broken through the fencing of her property, obviously on the scent of something. The next minute, said hounds started racing up a track beside me, accompanied by a horseback rider resplendent in the traditional outfit of a huntsman. As he drew closer, I could hear him talking to someone over a two-way radio, complete with the crackle of a reply. “It’s ok, he’s harmless enough; he’s letterboxing!” he said, as I stood under a tree, plastic pot in hand, preparing to stamp up my latest find.

It was a bit disconcerting, knowing I was being watched from afar by someone I couldn’t see...it made me wonder what might have happened if I had been regarded as a potential threat! This premise became the basis of one of my Christmas ghost stories that year...

Back to the recent encounter, and I spent the best part of the afternoon searching for one particular box, sadly in vain. I eventually gave up and turned my attention to another target in the same vicinity. This I found quite quickly...just as a notorious Dartmoor fog started to descend around me, from the surrounding hilltops.

Accompanying this reduced visibility, I could, once again, hear the sound of the hunt galloping over the nearby hillside, complete with the yapping of the hounds, which seemed to go on forever...I hope none of them got lost in those conditions.

This particular incident put me in mind of the legendary Wild Hunt, which, allegedly, frequently roams the moor, led by a rider who takes on various guises, from Old Crockern, Herne the Hunter, to the Devil himself, who leads his own Whist Hounds, from their “kennels” in Wistman’s Wood, across Dartmoor, in search of lost souls at night.

The other connection that put me in mind of the Devil’s Hunt was the fact that my recent encounter with a real hunt took place within sight of Buckfastleigh Church, home to the tomb of wicked Squire Cabal, long-time alleged leader of the hunt, standing in for the true master when he’s away on business.

Also, resident in Holy Trinity Church graveyard, is a certain Mr Bovey, whose wife, Betty, once told us about his brush with the Wild Hunt one night as he checked up on his cattle roaming the hills above Okehampton when they used to own a farm there. He didn’t see anything, but he claimed to have definitely heard the sound of dogs and horses rushing past him, as he stood watching dumbfoundedly, as his own dogs ran away in fear from something...

If you like these tales of the Wild Hunt or stories of the Devil’s machinations on Dartmoor or even the antics of Wicked Sisters, then why not join Helen Bruce and me for Bad Friday at Field System in Ashburton on 18th April for an evening of storytelling covering just those subjects?

For further details, see the attached poster or contact me directly via my email address: davidtiptrips@gmail.com

I look forward to seeing some of you at Easter...