Autumn on Orkney is an understated affair. There are very few trees, so there’s no fiery foliage for us. Instead, it is a season marked by sideways rain, sodden fields and cancelled ferries. The mud starts now, and only deepens as the months go on.
At the stables, there is a flurry of activity as we rush to get the heavyweight rugs ready for use: fishing them out of musty lockers and shaking off the worst of last year’s mud, hosing them down, reapplying waterproof sprays. This week is clipping week, an annual affair when the yard is abuzz with electric shears and wind-blown clumps of hair in brown, grey, black and dun tumble down the aisle and gather like leaves in damp corners.
