Here we are preparing to set off from Bridford village on the edge of Dartmoor.
We were soon into glorious open countryside.
But you can't go very far in this part of the world without hitting hills going up which I found rather harder to negotiate than the hills going down (which were rather few and far between). And I soon found that the glorious countryside was eerily peopleless. This is the Kennick Reservoir which I seemed to be enjoying alone
But down by the nearby Tottiford Reservoir, I spotted another Hasher. Aha!
Fortunately, for a man like me, much experienced in the ways of the countryside and the art of tracking, it is not too difficult to follow the spoor of a pack of hashers . . .
though the track was not conducive to fast running.
Especially as the light was now fading.
But wait, was that not another Hasher across the field . . .
And, sure enough, although it had been a somewhat longer run than I expected, we were all soon back at the Bridford Inn, just before nightfall, and, as it was Dartmoor, with pints of Jail Ale in our hands. On, on!