Opening Meet Review - Georgie Archer at the Golden Valley Hunt

Georgie Archer, 15, won our "Young Countryside Writer" competition a few years ago and has become a popular hunting correspondent since then. Here is her Opening Meet review from the Golden Valley Hunt: Fuelled by the anticipation of my long awaited first outing with hounds this season, I prepared for the big day. The opening meet was finally upon us, after weeks of watching the photos of other hunts popping up on the internet and enraging me in my hunting deprived state. The frustration at not being able to go hunting had built up and transferred into an overwhelming bubble of excitement that spilled out in the form of indiscernible chatter and an unstoppable smile spread across my face. Having sold my horse Murray and, as I am not going to hunt my new horse for now, I borrowed our other horse, Bugsy, (who is out on loan) for the meet. I had clipped and washed him ready for his debut on the hunting field for this season, although the scrubbing of many green and brown stains on his unfortunately coloured legs was necessary in the morning, we set off tacked-up and ready to go with my chocolate-filled saddle bag attached.

Upon arrival, we were met by a cacophonous scene of trailers spilling horses and riders along the lane to Cabalva, bedecked in tweed, black, cream and some in daringly pristine white. Immaculately plaited horses with sleek, clipped coats joined still-fluffy mountain ponies on the march to the meet. Waiting in front of the majestic house, a crowd of bustling supporters hovered, cameras and greetings ready. Snorting in the fresh morning air, beneath the warming radiance of the sun, horses came to a standstill as the hounds and huntsmen and women, along with some followers, trotted in from the other direction. A wave of electricity rolled through the crowd as the realisation of the coming day dawned upon everyone. Sausage rolls, port and cake halted the frenzied chatter momentarily as stomachs were filled for the coming activity. After the raffle was drawn and speeches were made, it was time for only one thing.

After clattering down the driveway past a cheerful wall of hunt supporters, from those supported by sticks to those still in nappies, all contentedly smiling, we reached the main road and crossed it, to climb the hills beyond. A canter up the hill, weaving between saplings, got blood and adrenaline moving through us as brakes were tested and those boasting layers of thick clothing regretted their unfortunate life choices. Despite the chill apparent in the air, the sun shone determinedly upon us, burning through the meagre layer of clouds with ease. A white-faced child hurtled past me, having escaped from the clutches of her trailing mother who, with a hopeless look on her face, had left the pack of lead-reiners at an eager jog, in order to find her child's exuberant pony (and hopefully the child, too).

Finding myself to be one of those with too many clothes on, I appreciated the rest at the top of the hill as everyone ground to a halt to cool down after the first proper leg stretch of the day. This was to be followed by many more. This first gallop was followed by vigorous road trotting, valley climbing, jump leaping and Mars bar eating (on my part!) that marked the opening meet of the 2015/16 season as one of the most memorable one so far.

We found logs to pop in a beautifully autumnal woodland as we climbed down to a stream and back up the other side, accompanied by the trills of the hunting horn and the sometimes haunting and melancholy and at other times thrilling and heart-stopping sounds of the hounds as the stunning beasts prowl the land, following the scent of the trail. Rails were flown by most of the field, although one in a boggy patch did prove difficult for some, as the top rail had to be repaired by a few handy field members, using bailing twine in order to keep notoriously adventurous sheep in their field. Another break followed this as we watched the hounds scouring the countryside, aided and controlled by our MFH. Drinks were consumed and laughter and conversation commenced once more as the merriment of the opening meet bounced between individuals. Those who had not seen each other for months exchanged titbits of gossip and stories of eventful summers, aided by the alcohol found in hip flasks (some of which has notoriously dangerous origins, as was the case with several offered to those around me, whose faces put me off even sampling the 'delicacies').

The build up to the highlight of the day commenced as we galloped over more jumps in the pursuit of 'the hedge', a legendary hedge that put many off. I, on my noble gypsy cob-come-racehorse, had already committed to doing it, having heard tales of it being trimmed down from a towering height. We powered on towards it, stopping just before the brow a of hill obscuring it, allowing nerves to settle and more hip flasks to be reached for. Being one of the first bunch to jump it, I was extremely excited as I flew towards the hedge and upon locking onto it and seeing the most perfect stride that could be asked for we leaped over it, landing on the other side and galloping over the those who had already succeeded in jumping it. Some opted out and went through the gate, but most managed it and the pictures found on social media of us jumping it later provided much entertainment. As elusive as hedges are in our gorse bush abundant hunting country, it was a tremendously exciting event and the one thing I was waiting for before I had to leave. It did not disappoint and although it was not as big as I had been expecting it to be, it was the highlight of my day. Busgy's pricked ears as he locked onto and leaped over the jump and his enthused striding back towards the meet as we powered home are images printed in my brain to satisfy my need for hunting until I can next get out, which will hopefully be before the end of the month.

When hacking home with another field member, having stretched the limited time that I could stay out for to the absolute limit, conversation flowed regarding every topic possible and it reminded me just how much I love hunting and why I have such a desire to come out. I would come out every Saturday and Tuesday if I could, although I think that missing school would not be appreciated. I look forward to the next meet I can get to with the excitement of a young child on Christmas morning, as I am sure Bugsy does too!

NB the photo shows Georgie at 2014's Boxing Day meet