Welcome to the Teign Valley Hash House Harriers of glorious South Devon. You are guaranteed a warm welcome and a great hash experience. We are the 'Party Hash' and we run from pubs all over Torbay, Dartmoor and the Teign Valley every Monday evening at 7.15pm. Our trails are marked with flour, chalk or sawdust and take in woodland, streams, byways, bridle paths and rolling countryside. We cater for all abilities, you needn't worry about keeping up, a leisurely walk with others or a good paced run if you're fit - you choose. The run duration is anything from 30 minutes to an hour and the distance is normally between 3-6 miles depending on whether you decide to take a short or long trail. Your first run is free, so come along and give it a go! After the run hashers enjoy a drink and food in the pub. On many occasions, the pub will lay on a 'Hash Menu', food specially for hashers.


Starts soon after 7:15 pm each Monday.
The Grandmaster will gather the hash together in a circle and welcome Virgins & Visitors to TVH3 and inform the group of pertinent news or upcoming events.
Hares will announce details or the trail, number of long and short splits and regroups.

Down-Downs - sometimes at the circle but usually in the pub after the run. Hashers and harriets (lady hashers) have a half pint and under age hashers have a soft drink or water. If you are driving, just ask the RA for water.

A Down-Down is a means of punishing, rewarding, or merely recognizing an individual for any action or behavior. Once awarded, the downdown must be drunk without pause, otherwise the RA may take action!

Individuals may be recognized for outstanding service, or for their status as a visitor or newcomer.

Down-Downs also serve as punishment for misdemeanours real, imagined, or blatantly made up.

Such transgressions may include: wearing new shoes, pointing with a finger, or the use of real names rather than hash names.

Hash Names

The use of real names (nerd name) during an event is discouraged, and members are typically given a new "hash name," usually in deference to a particularly notorious escapade, a personality trait, or their physical appearance.

Members are named after attending the hash on several occasions or if something noteworthy occurs to prompt a naming.

Other hashers may share stories or observations about the individual, with the final name being chosen by general consensus from all suggestions put forward by the hash.

Completely new to hashing? Don't know what to expect? Worried, shy or nervous? You needn't be as all newcomers or virgins as they are known, will receive a warm welcome. When the hashers are called to make a circle - about 7:15 pm each Monday, the Grand Master will welcome all hashers and after various notices about forthcoming events etc are dealt with, he will ask if there are any visitors from other hashes or virgins present. You will be asked to come forward and be introduced to the hash. A tip to remember, don't wear new trainers as these are frowned upon by the RA (Religious Advisor) and will incur a sprinkling of flour over them. That's all there is to it and you can then step back and enjoy the run and the social get together after in the On Down (the pub). Whatever your pace, there are certain to be others who will keep you company along the trail. Walk, jog or run - it's up to you.
Hashing is all about making friends and having fun, so just turn up any Monday and have a go.

Pages (when clicked the item will appear at the bottom of the page - click home to return)


Run #1848 Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton with hares Coldtits and Polyfella
Forgetting the turn-off was Forder Lane, I spent some time exploring Cockhaven and Church roads looking for the elusive Lawns End Park, finally having to ask directions from a dog walking local. Par for the course..
But there at last was the haven of the circle up chariot park with wartime blackout restrictions still in operation.
Shadowy hashers picked out:
GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Teapot, Coldtits, Polyfella, Beefy, 69, Fukarwi, ManPig, Strap-On, Pisswell, SM Ellie, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Roxanne, Harry + 2, Artful Dogger, Big End and red led Ned, Well Hopped, Screwed and Bella.
I tried unsuccessfully to get an autograph from Strap-On who has just been unanimously voted the TVH Slimmer of the Century. He is about to embark on a Covid-controlled tour of Torbay to promote his new range of SlimJim© menswear.
Inky black Circle summoned were the motley throng and the usual pleasantries dispensed by the Grand Master before the glad tidings of the evening's jollities were announced by the hares. Two L/S splits with a cautionary warning about something tricky in the closing stages - but the Birdbrain was still adjusting his newly acquired ACME main beam head torch and paid scant attention. It was a decision he would have cause to regret in about fifty five minutes time...Oh Dearly Just an Accident Waiting to Happen..
Polyfella pointed towards the entrance to the park and the extravaganza was underway with Artful, turbo spluttering, careering the Wong Wei and having to be recalled. Misgivings - later to be justified - about the wisdom of wearing road racing flats were to the fore as the grass was wet and slick but Shirley the tarmac beckoned Becky.
A horse is a horse of course of course* and the main road could be sighted in front of that supreme slimmer Strap-On, proudly leading the pack, but the luxury was to be fleeting as we turned for the river, Oh Dearly Having a Sinking [sic] Feeling...
An obstacle course of rocks, piles of seaweed and assorted horrors were encountered as we lurched along the banks of the Teign. The sheet of galvanized metal nearly ended the game before it had really started. In the distance, Artful had regained the lead and was nearly out of third gear on the awful terrain with the Assassin** purring along in stealth mode close behind. Beefy, meanwhile, was taking snaps of the Teign, tourist style, and had little interest in getting involved with the frenetic pace.
Up the little known Jack's Patch lane under the railway to be met by Polyfella, standing guard on the busy main road and who was making sure that there was no hasher roadkill on his watch. Teapot had stolen a march on most (card marked?) but looked quite perky and good to go.
It was then a case of ON ON up and up - and up some for two kilometres until the summit of Mt Doom was reached, some seven hundred feet above the glistening Teign:
๐˜ผ๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ง๐™š ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™ฅ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™š๐™š๐™ง๐™จ ๐™ฌ๐™š๐™ง๐™š ๐™ค๐™ง๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™š๐™™
๐™๐™ค ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™š๐™ฅ๐™–๐™ง๐™š ๐™– ๐™ก๐™š๐™ซ๐™š๐™ก ๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™–๐™˜๐™š
๐˜ผ๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™š๐™ฃ๐™œ๐™ง๐™–๐™ซ๐™š ๐™– ๐™ก๐™–๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ง๐™š๐™˜๐™ค๐™ง๐™™
๐™Š๐™› ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ช๐™ข๐™ฅ๐™ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ž๐™ง ๐™ง๐™–๐™˜๐™š .. No? Well I think I need a shot of O2 at this altitude.
Ah, blessed tarmacadam followed as a reward for our heady endeavours as Beefy and the Bird sauntered steadily along to the final L/S split and if I knew then what I knew afterwards, I would Shirley have heeded Polyfella's advisory, given so long ago at the circle..
Taking the wise option were Screwed and Bella with Roxanne and tiny crew in attendance, but on reflection, perhaps the tinies would have enjoyed themselves on the hilarious helter-skelter Harry...
But never mind, In the Heat of the Night (1967 recommended viewing) a hasher has to do what a hasher has to do and saluting sharply the touring duo embarked on what would be for some, the fateful final frontier...
๐“๐‡๐„๐‘๐„ ๐–๐ˆ๐‹๐‹ ๐๐Ž๐– ๐๐„ ๐€ ๐’๐‡๐Ž๐‘๐“ ๐ˆ๐๐“๐„๐‘๐Œ๐ˆ๐’๐’๐ˆ๐Ž๐ while sales staff attend the stalls with refreshments (you Shirley will need them). A short feature might keep you entertained***:
๐—•๐—ข๐—•๐—•๐—ฌ ๐—ช๐—ข๐—Ÿ๐—Ÿ'๐—ฆ ๐——๐—ฅ๐—˜๐—”๐— 
The Gun Dog vas relaxing und der brown haze swirled down upon a soporific Bobby Woll und he began to dream a fitful dream...so ACHTUNG Baby****
In some far-flung Bavarian bierkeller sat a dejected rottenfรผhrer. He'd had a bad day in der Panzer and had come out for ein or zwei biers. An assortment of life-size cardboard cutout caricatures were arrayed to keep him company including the notorious Blauer Vogel. Entering stage left vas Doris to have her mandatory pint of Guinness. 'It must be a dream,' mused the celebrated tank gunner but the apparition downed der Guinness and turned to depart with a wistful 'I'll see you sometime...' 
It was all too much for Bobby, now suitably saturated mit dem Gun Dog and he rose unsteadily with glass in hand to give a reverse rendition of Der Panzerlied..
'Ve'll meet again, don't know vere don't know ven but I know ve'll meet again vun ..'
'Enough!' cried the management, 'Ve, I mean we will have no singing in this establishment.' Disappointed, the rottenfรผhrer did desist but muttered 'I vill be back - in mein Panzer...'
'๐–๐€๐Š๐„ ๐”๐ ๐๐Ž๐๐๐˜, ๐‚๐‡๐”๐‚๐Š๐ˆ๐๐† ๐Ž๐”๐“ ๐“๐ˆ๐Œ๐„!' 'Oh BB, thank goodness, I was having this strange dream, let's go home...'
And now,
๐๐€๐‚๐Š ๐“๐Ž ๐“๐‡๐„ ๐‘๐„๐€๐‹ ๐€๐‚๐“๐ˆ๐Ž๐
A familiar junction materialized on the Humber Road and a check - is it right to the Red Rock brewery or left?
Wet Johnny couldn't find any more than a single dot, brewery side and a quarter of a mile along the other choice yielded a similar result. We had tarried some time and lights appeared from astern - ManPig and Fukarwi with Artful also resurfacing after taking some strange scenic route.
As usual, Manpig seemed to know where we were and what route to take. It transpired it was left along the Bird abandoned route... sigh
What climbs high above Bishopsteignton must Shirley descend back down into:
๐“๐‡๐„ ๐Œ๐”๐ƒ๐’๐‹๐ˆ๐ƒ๐„ ๐Ž๐… ๐‚๐„๐‘๐“๐€๐ˆ๐ ๐ƒ๐„๐€๐“๐‡ and the Bird knew immediately that he'd got trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T that rhymes with P that stands for pool.
Hashers a half mile away heard the death screech as the Bird fluttered and slid to destruction down the near vertical mud slide. It was just as the Idiot had feared, the road racing flats had less grip than a pair of roller skates and I know what you're thinking Fukarwi - Whatamis.....
The once majestic road running prairie chicken was swiftly reduced to a dead duck in a thunderstorm, but wait, what do I hear? Why it's my old running buddy ManPig, I'm sav-ed Shirley. 
But there was to be no salvation here m'dears as ManPig, with a sneer and a cruel glint in his eyes, swept past, Oh Shirley Shed a Tear for the Dead Duck..
Meanwhile, a little farther down the slide of death, poor Georgie had taken a tumble but a damsel rescuing knight was at hand to give comfort and lend assistance - one Wet Johnny, such a gent and Georgie sends her thanks.
Fukarwi came across a hasher clinging for dear life to the chain link fencing and babbling like an idiot. 'You won't leave me to die out here, will you old friend?' Gently did Fukarwi lead the car crash back to the darkened row of chariots and a total rebuild.
*Mister Ed - great tv series early sixties.
**Wet Johnny you fools.
***I pray indulgence from some and give apologies to same.
Yes, Coldtits and Polyfella, you know that we loved the trail! It kept a few of us guessing and there was never a dull moment out there. I really should have listened to you, Polyfella, but I can laugh about that mud slide now!
Departing (the way I should have entered), I saw a runner coming along the main road. On passing, I realized it was Artful Dogger! Clocking up over seven miles and possibly straying off trail the same number of times, this was probably his last run until the End of Days (1999) or December anyway.
ON ON to next week and Station Road CP, Bovey Tracy TQ13 9AL with hare Beefy. Non Down is wherever you want: "Decide for yourself."


Monday 12th October

Run #1848 Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton TQ14 9PJ with hare Coldtits. To access Lawn End Park, enter via Forder Lane as shown on the map. Take the first right into The Drive and the park is the second turning on the right. Parking and benches at the end of the road. Please indicate on post if you are going. Thank you.



Run #1847 Monday 5th October from Ipplepen FC with hares Wet Johnny and Erection

Court was held once more out in the far-flung but welcoming kingdom of the Penners, those Heroes of Ipplepen.
Dread Draco continued to terrorize and the checklist of edicts grows. But where there's a will, there is Shirley a way and the Penners' Party would not be thwarted.
Great were the preparations that had taken place to engineer the evening's entertainment and every last detail of the operation had been duly scrutinized by Captain W Johnny to ensure smooth sailing. Why, even a batch of Forrest's finest flour concoction* had been imported, complete with deluxe packaging.**
Thus was the stage set and merely the players required to put the play in motion, Oh Dearly Get your Popcorn and Take Your Seats...
Even more tricky than usual as the Bird brain was not concentrating on the task Shirley. But never mind, arm-ed with a prompt vid clip from Beefy, the roll herewith with advance apologies to any omitted:
GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgy, Teapot - yes, back again, SatNav, 3Sum, Beefy, BroadS, Fukarwi, SM Ellie, Popeye, Wigwam, Gaga4It, Forrest 'n' Muttley but no Wood Lend - studying, Penners five: Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Roxanne and young Harry, Manpig, BB, Big End and NED, Well Hopped, Coldtits, Archangel - on time, I-Poo'd, T Humper, Getting Wet, Jane, Screwed, Strap-On - gotcha this week and flying FRB Artful Dogger.
A grey day, full of foreboding and I must shamefully admit that I even considered giving it a miss, Oh Shirley sacrilege.
Forrest and the Bird were first to arrive and shortly after, Captain Johnny appeared, having just finished the trail.
Shadowy figures emerged from their chariots and a bewildering array of head torches strobed the autumn evening air. Ahh, the thrill of the impending trail and the accompanying adrenaline rush, it's Shirley showtime hashers!
Captain Johnny briefed his cohorts and confidence was high. Two long short splits, a walkabout roundabout a mile and a half, a short of maybe three baby and the main dish, the lordly long, estimated at just short of six miles.
And that was that - and with a battle cry of 'Vamanos muchachos, vaya con dios', what a glorious sight the covid adjusted cavalcade made as they precipitated out into the Ipplepen bocage.
They made all of seventy five yards before the first 'make your minds up' check. Fukarwi thought he was on a winner and headed for the village (never to be sighted again) though the snorting cavalry pawed the ground impatiently, awaiting news from the other scouts.
ON ON was called straight on towards the main road, but whoa! your steeds as another check halted the impending charge yet again, merely a hundred yards up yon lane.
The Bird thought he had seen this game before and veered sharply to port up a narrow track. There were unfortunately two factors that conspired against the road running loony tune - a palpably inadequate head torch and an inability to see beyond two feet...sigh
With a drumming of petulant hooves they waited back at the check as the returning Idiot announced: 'Nothing up here, nary a blob...' Along came hare Erection to witness the debacle. Not a word did he utter, but merely pointed solemnly up whence the Bird had come...Oh dear, whatamistakatomaka..
Harsh words were uttered (by the Bird) and various jocular insults cast and, finally, the hash was underway, Oh Dearly Hash Hiatus.
Spearheading the action, Archangel led the pack north towards Abbotskerswell. Overtaking in the confines of a three foot wide muddy path was problematic, though hashers were hardly dawdling, were you Strap-On and BroadS? It was quite hectic early stages as excited hash hounds dashed back and forth and Forrest very nimbly hurdled one such hound - could have been nasty..
The A381 was timely as the FRBs - Artful, Beefy, Big End and Ned - were just getting a head of steam up and were about to slip the field.
Beefy admitted playing the noughts and crosses game and impressive were his first few checks: O X O X O X which resulted in him travelling a good half mile farther than the majority of longs.
The last of Beefy's hat trick of X's was at the Two Mile Oak and even the Bird thought he was good to go until the head torch wavered and return-ed.
Popeye and Well Hopped had been on a good run of checks but Popeye finally chose a wrong 'un and the pack shredded apart. Ultimately, there were four hashers and the red l.e.d collared Ned left at the head of proceedings.
Adequate seemed the Bird light until Big End's searchlight strength beam made it seem as luminous as a hospital ward night light. Big End said what the Bird had been thinking: 'You're going to need a better head torch!'
But never mind, the virgin trail, hitherto unseen and untrodden, alluringly beckoned the twelve legged party onwards until Artful paused with a turbo assist problem.
On and on through plantation and copse, highway, lane and track coursed the three hashers with red l.e.d Ned showing them how it was to be done.
Turning for home up Moor road and a chance to singalong with me:
๐‘พ๐’† ๐’„๐’‚๐’Ž๐’† ๐’–๐’‘๐’๐’ ๐’•๐’˜๐’ ๐’„๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’…๐’“๐’†๐’*** ๐’๐’‡ ๐‘ฎ๐’๐’…
๐‘ป๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’˜๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’˜๐’‚๐’๐’Œ๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’‚๐’๐’๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’“๐’๐’‚๐’…
๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐‘ฐ ๐’‚๐’”๐’Œ๐’†๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’Ž, ๐’˜๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’‚๐’“๐’† ๐’š๐’๐’– ๐’ˆ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ
๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’•๐’๐’๐’… ๐’Ž๐’†
๐‘พ๐’†'๐’“๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’๐’ ๐’…๐’๐’˜๐’ ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’‡๐’๐’๐’•๐’ƒ๐’‚๐’๐’ ๐’„๐’๐’–๐’ƒ
๐‘พ๐’†'๐’“๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’ ๐’‹๐’๐’Š๐’ ๐’Š๐’ ๐’‚ ๐’“๐’๐’„๐’Œ '๐’' ๐’“๐’๐’๐’ ๐’ƒ๐’‚๐’๐’…
๐‘พ๐’†'๐’“๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’ ๐’„๐’‚๐’Ž๐’‘ ๐’๐’–๐’• ๐’๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’‚๐’๐’…
๐‘พ๐’†'๐’“๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’“๐’š ๐’‚๐’' ๐’ˆ๐’†๐’• ๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’”๐’๐’–๐’๐’” ๐’‡๐’“๐’†๐’†
๐‘พ๐’† ๐’‚๐’“๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’‚๐’“๐’…๐’–๐’”๐’•
๐‘พ๐’† ๐’‚๐’“๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’๐’…๐’†๐’
๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐’˜๐’†'๐’—๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’๐’• ๐’•๐’ ๐’ˆ๐’†๐’• ๐’๐’–๐’“๐’”๐’†๐’๐’—๐’†๐’”
๐‘ฉ๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’‡๐’๐’๐’•๐’Š๐’† ๐’„๐’๐’–๐’ƒ ๐’ˆ๐’‚๐’“๐’…๐’†๐’..
No? You're very hard to please out there.
Archangel and Screwed teamed up to get round the pretty testing long with an extra bit tagged on to collect recovering from injury Bella for the final stages of the trail.
BroadS finished with arms raised aloft in triumph but with puzzling news of Manpig. They had run together for part of the long but had somehow been separated at some point - as for Fukarwi, he also strangely disappeared into the Twilight Zone of lost hashers.
I could not stay to enjoy the footie club hospitality or even a beer or two, but am assured that a great time was had by all individuals who dropped by post hash.
Many thanks WJ and Erection for an exacting and well-marked trail. Glad I made it!
Just outside the club entrance, as I was driving back, SM Ellie appeared. She had run the long (as expected) and though on her Trail of the Lonesome Pine, she was a happy hasher and had her own adventure out there.
*Sawdust you fools
**Forrest's battered and torn rucksack
***Coldtits and Gaga4It of course
๐—ข๐—ก ๐—ข๐—ก always in hope to next Monday 12th October from Lawns End Park, Bishopsteignton, Teignmouth TQ14 9PJ with hare Coldtits. Details to follow.


Run #1847 Monday 5th October 7:15 pm from Ipplepen FC with hares Wet Johnny and Erection. If approaching from Newton Abbot, take the turning right by the garage (on your left) off the A381. Please indicate below if you intend going.

๐—ฃ๐—Ÿ๐—˜๐—”๐—ฆ๐—˜ ๐—ฅ๐—˜๐—”๐—— ๐—–๐—”๐—ฅ๐—˜๐—™๐—จ๐—Ÿ๐—Ÿ๐—ฌ: After the hash ends on Monday night in the car Park of Ipplepen Football Club, the Clubhouse will be open, so if any individuals would like to have a drink and support the club they will be very welcome. Seating will be arranged outside on the patio, observing the current rules.
Bottles and cans of lager, ale and cider are £2.50, and cans of soft drinks £1.00. Cheesy chips will also be available to order for £2.00. All proceeds on the night go towards supporting the footie club.
Card payments preferred but cash will be accepted!
In order to comply with the current regulations please observe the following:
Face coverings must be worn on entrance to the club house. These may be removed when seated, eating or drinking. They must be re-applied when using the toilets, and when leaving the clubhouse. Please follow the one-way system in place. Table service only in the clubhouse. Please follow the ‘Rule-of-six’ at all times. Before arrival please ensure you have downloaded the NHS track and trace app (NHS Covid-19) to your phone, as you will be asked to check in via an official NHS QR code on entering. If you are unable to do so, Thank you, We


Run #1846 Monday 28th September from Stover Country Park with hare Wigwam

An ominous rumbling materialized and hashers turned in horror to see the sinister, diesel spewing outline of the trundling Panzerkampfwagen mit der Rottenfรผhrer Bobby Woll at the wheel. A spontaneous (sotto voce of course to comply mit das covid-19 regulation) rendition of Bobby Woll, Bobby Woll, broke out as the much decorated tank commander approach-ed. 
After making two tours of the congested car park area and inflicting major damage on three scout cars, a scowling Bobby made a strategic retreat to the main car park...
But enough of this idle chit-chat, back to the safari trail..
The Country Park Safari proved to be a popular (guaranteed) holiday destination:
GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgy, Teapot (hooray!), SatNav, 3Sum, Beefy, BroadS, Fukarwi (hooray again!), SM Ellie, Soapy, Melon Picker, Popeye, sporting a smart new coiffure, Wigwam, Bobby Woll, Gaga4It, Triple Jump, Able, Forrest, Wood Lend, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Manpig, BB, Big End, Well Hopped, Dad, Coldtits, Archangel (eventually!), I-Poo'd, T Humper, Jane, Screwed (no Bella, confined to barracks with injury poor girl) AND not forgetting Strap-On - I did!
Time for a catch-up with Safari Ranger Wiggy before the hash arrived and arrive they did in some force, quickly filling the tiny car park to capacity. A light drizzle fell and it was tricky getting the attendees as some stayed in their cars. Thanks Beefy for the vid clip.
There was to be no mass circle as the Grand Master and hare began dispatching hashers onto the trail as they became available.
They said he wouldn't come back, they said he shouldn't come back, but there he was at long last, the venerable Teapot, taking no chances and wearing a head encompassing goldfish bowl. We bid you welcome back indeed!
Then a cry rang out from the mauled Bobby Woll survivors: 'Shirley that's Fukarwi over there!' And yes, there was no mistaking the outline of the celebrity, feared lost to mankind and hashing.
But no time to chat, you dirty rats, and the hash hero was sent rat-packing towards the lake. Last to arrive were Soapy, Mawgan and Melon Picker and the game was Shirley at least a foot long... No? Well...
A few walking crew were still getting themselves organized for the country park safari and only two warrior longs tarried - Beefy, waiting for a possible arrival of a virgin hasher and a fidgeting Bird.
They could linger no longer and at last, the full hash caravan, covid-19 spread out all over the park, was underway, Wiggy. 
I have to report that the Wiggster had removed himself from the locale to get back for the Liverpool - Arsenal footie game but he would ultimately be the unsung (but beer glass toasted) hero of the evening.
After smashing his knee on an unforgiving granite rock the day before, Beefy was taking it fairly easy but the terrain was hashing heaven to his companion - flat, fast and plenty of tarmac - AHHHHHHH purred the Bird*.
Barely half a mile in and there was Fukarwi, walking (!) and having a chat with Piltdown, Georgy and Teapot. We thought you might be unfit, but really Fukarwi - but more on him later. 

The blast on Teapot's horn was the first sounded since early March and I went all Play Misty for Me (1971).
Through the scattered ranks we sliced, calling when passage was needed. Virtually on rails did we So Cruise as checks had been responsibly kicked out and gradually we moved through the hashing carnival caravan. Screwed looked lonely without Bella and SatNav and 3Sum were having their usual natter.
Towards the sharp end, a drama was about to unfold. A doughty advance party arrived on the shores of a mighty expanse of water, stretching as far as the head torch illuminated eye could see. 'Shirley we cannot proceed', did they mutter in awe.
Back they fled in confusion (you know who you were Shirley Popeye and Erection to name but two) and scattered into surrounding hedgerows seeking refuge from the great flood. 
Arriving soon after, the rearguard, men of steel, (well man really, as the Bird is quite timid as you know) rallied the wide-eyed mini-throng. 'What's occurring out there t' t' teddy bears?' 'A mighty lake, so deep and wide - Shirley it can't be crossed!' But reinforced and regaining their courage, the party came once again to the shores of the terrifying Teign.
Carrying the tattered standard, a lone warrior advanc-ed into the swirling depths - all six inches that is... sigh
Fifty feet of paddling and dry land was reached and once more unto the hash, dear friends, once more... I don't know Sooty, what do you think Sweep?
Sa fari so good and the level crossing, de rigueur for many a hash hereabouts, appeared on cue to the left. A baying hound from the adjacent house alarmed but railwayman Beefy knew the occupants and we would Shirley pass unharmed.
It was plain sailing, or so we thought, as another kicked out check was espied. However, it had been kicked out in two directions. Advancing in the direction of the the most heavily 'kicked', we were met by an oncoming light - Forrest and his faithful Muttley - oh well, it was worth a try, Forrest..
The novelty cum fun section revealed itself as the trail veered sharply off trail into the trees. A vertical six foot drop wasn't as much fun as the Bird had hoped and Beefy stood by to pick up the pieces. It was great fun wandering in the tepee - or Wigwam - strewn sector though, which gave sufficient time for the gang to catch up.
Rejoining the path, two shadowy figures - Wet Johnny and Wood Lend - dashed across the safariteers** from off trail and it was only at the stewards enquiry that the story emerged. Going off first, Wet Johnny had linked up with Big End (sans Ned who was with Dad), Well Hopped and Wood Lend and for some reason unknown, they had decided on doing a lap of the lake before taking on the trail proper.
Most unexpectedly, the On Home appeared at about four point five miles and Plan B was executed by a select band of said safariteers***..
So let it be written, so let it be done Shirley. Manpig, Beefy, Fukarwi (yes, he had rejoined after his catch-up) BroadS and the Bird set off Once More Unto the Breach, Oh Dear Friends Everywhere.
Around the lake and Soapy, Mawgan and Melon P were sighted, Wandering Lonely as a Cloud but evidently enjoying the excursion.
The lights from the car park flickered through the trees and Shirley that was the end, but in a curious twist of fate, it nearly turned into the End is Nigh.... sigh [sic]
Gaga4It and Triple Jump strangely (we thought) called out as we passed: 'Where are you going?' We thought no more of it until... we lurched out onto the main Bovey Road! A hundred and fifty yard dash for survival ensued as the Famous Five legged it down the road towards the safety of the country park.
The sound of vehicles close behind forced the Bird to take an impromptu short cut through the hedge into the car park which nearly ended in disaster. But hey, we were only home!
A beer or two was required for some and, for one reason or another, the Star at Liverton resembled a ghost town, being eerily empty. Bobby and the Bird plumped for the Sharps Atlantic pale ale 4.5 abv as we feared the Sea Fury might be a bit rough - No? Well...
At a range of a hundred feet, semaphore signals were employ-ed to communicate with Popeye et cetera..
My, we Shirley had fun out there on safari with Fukarwi and the rest of the hash. The trail had something to cater for all tastes and many were the words of praise I heard during and after the event. Thanks Wiggy, you did us proud - as always.
*Can a Bird purr Shirley?
**I hereby claim coining the word.
***I like it, I like it Captain Mainwaring.
ON ON hopefully, to next Monday 5th October from Ipplepen Football Club, Moor Road Playing Fields, Moor Road, Newton Abbot TQ12 5TT with Wet Johnny and co. Detailed instructions to follow.

Monday's details:

Run #1846 Monday 28th September 7:15 pm from Stover Country Park CP TQ12 6QG situated 300 metres south of the Drumbridges roundabout. Our hare is Wigwam. Do not forget your head torch, they are a must now.

๐—ฃ๐—Ÿ๐—˜๐—”๐—ฆ๐—˜ ๐—ฅ๐—˜๐— ๐—˜๐— ๐—•๐—˜๐—ฅ that once you have completed your run or walk, that is the end of the Teign Valley hash trail. If any individuals choose to use any pub facilities afterwards, then it is done by their personal choice. If a pub offers food, then it is up to individuals to organise themselves and is not part of the Hash. To give us an idea of numbers, please indicate on post if you are attending. Thank you.


Run #1845 from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with hares Forrest and Manpig

'I'm late, I'm late, for a most important date...' did I mutter incoherently as I sped towards Trusham, en route for the Cridford Inn. 'Try and park in the village!' Forrest's advice was etched firmly in my mind. Not if I'm in time in my tiny chariot..
A place, a place, my kingdom for a place! Paranoia had Shirley set in early, Oh Dearly Having a Panic, but there was a place next to Manpig's pantechnicon (special dispensation as he was Shirley hare). Seconds later, caps were tipped as the Grand Master Himself arrived in a cloud of dust and slotted in alongside. Didulikethat? No? Well...
From every hidey-hole, nook and cranny within Trusham, hashers wended their way, circle-bound. Amidst the phalanx of Penners shone a jacket so bright and clean - Shirley not used for many a moon.. Why yes, heeeere's ROXANNE!
๐‘ฏ๐’†'๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’†๐’‚๐’…๐’†๐’“, ๐’‰๐’†'๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’†๐’‚๐’…๐’†๐’“
๐‘ฏ๐’†'๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’†๐’‚๐’…๐’†๐’“ ๐’๐’‡ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐‘ท๐’†๐’๐’๐’†๐’“๐’” ๐’‰๐’† ๐’Š๐’”..
Proudly did Red Light Roxanne enter the car park, escorted by his motley crew: Poker faced assassin Wet Johnny with Erection [definitely sic] - no you fools, pay attention now! and Ravi - he came back, a man like him...
And there was a face I recalled, the hasher who sav-ed my life* from this very pub and I rack my brains trying to recall what we named him on April 29th 2019 Run #1792**. Well, it's just Chris for now but another merely magnificent mover to watch out for on trail.
Mine eyes discerned:
Piltdown, Georgie, GM Shitfaced, 3Sum, SatNav, Roxanne, Ravi, Erection, Wet Johnny, Polyfella, Popeye, Olive (AH3), Gaga4It, Manpig, Forrest, Wood Lend, Chris, Strap-On, SM Ellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Screwed, BB, Beefy, Pisswell, Archangel, Coldtits, 69, Triple Jump (welcome back).
Circle spaced summoned, Manpig and Forrest dispensed details of the upcoming saga: A long, about six miles, a short and supporting walkers pick me up, all laid mainly on the right in Forrest best sawdust. Wagons rock 'n' roll!
The L/S split was laid merely a hundred yards or so up the hill and so it began, the duel in the setting sun o'er Trusham. Come on, do ya feel lucky, Popeye? Well do ya!
Oh Ye Hashing Gods On High, the FRBs were Shirley on a kamikaze mission. In a blur, Wet Johnny, Beefy, Chris, Polyfella and Wood Lend had only gone for it and rapidly disappeared from view down in the darkening hollows of the Goblin Wood.
Fearing a fall and not so nimble as he was fifty years ago, the Bird doggedly tried to limit his losses, though close behind, Popeye called encouragement: 'You're going like Twinkletoes BB!' I wish my son...
Fortunately for the flightless one, the technical off road section petered out and resurrection road resum-ed, Roxanne.
Cometh the hills, cometh the Big End... I had a bad feeling when Ned, red LED attired, cantered gaily past on the half mile heartbreak hill, as Shirley Big End would be close behind. And so he was tobesure tobesure and the Bird wiped a tear from his anguished eye as the doughty hasher climbed like a stag, leaving most toiling in his wake.
Strap-On was having a right go-go in hot company; 3Sum managed a morale-boosting run round after her recent op; Screwed and Bella were out and about again and Archangel, he of the late arrival, was destined to complete the long, ravine and all!
Two miles in and another check to fool the FRBs, yet another triumph for the wily Manpig. 'He's one of us after all!' the FRBs agreed. Wood Lend had not come back from scouting, so with cutlasses drawn, down we plunged into the boondocks.
I am sorry lads, but I wasn't paying attention and failed to see the footpath on the right and had to be summoned back from my reckless excursion by Beefy. Oh the shame of it... But SM Ellie was quite pleased to make contact with us again - it can get lonely out there, can't it!
Over a gate into the red diesel aroma farm and a flurry of head torches appeared on the far side of the field - Shirley the shorts, though Manpig was a bit perplexed pubside as he didn't think the trails overlapped, but Forrest, apparently laying independently, was just as cunning as his co-hare..
Twists and turns, varied terrain and 'interesting' gradients kept us on our toes (literally). Beefy detached up the road aways and it was the merry band of Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, the Bird and Chris - still looking magnificent but with a few frays appearing as the hills began to take their toll - who continued into the unknown reaches of the Teign valley.
What goes up must Shirley go down and an arrow left took us down, Way Way Down to - I don't believe it, we've done it again!
Wearily, the house owner came out to enquire if we were Desperately Seeking the footpath and kindly directed Chris and the Bird back up the hill.
And there it was, the deadly Ravine of Death and what suffering did it inflict on the hapless longs.. sigh
We came upon Wet Johnny, looking for a possible exit up into the high field on the right where, unbeknown to us, the shorts were having a gay day, skirting the gruesome gully.
Delirium set in and a demented howling could be discerned from the deepest depths of the ravine and an unknown hasher began to recite (some said babble) the epic poem 'The Salutation'***. If things were dread down there before, they quickly became desperate as hashers tried to flee the torment.
Caught between a rock-strewn gully and the demented reciter, Erection and Ravi endured until mercifully, the echoes faded into the distance...
Arriving in higher Trusham, a suspicious little huddle had assembled at a check. Polyfella began searching up the hill - away from the pub - and then we descended to within a stone's throw from the beer, whereupon another check tantalized. Beefy was disappointed that the fun didn't continue, but the ON HOME was eventually shouted and thus we had finished quite an adventurous and eventful trail. ๐—›๐—ข๐—ข๐—ฅ๐—”๐—ฌ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—›๐—”๐—ฅ๐—˜๐—ฆ!
The shape of things to come at the Cridford as Paul the landlord took orders when individuals were seated at the 'six a table MAX' - did you get that Popeye?
*Pulling me to safety as I tried to jump the Ravine of Death.
**We tried a naming but failed, such was the uproar made by various harriets!
***Search for it in vain, for it is not listed on the much vaunted and assumed all-knowing internet.
A tremendous Trusham trail, and, Oh Dearly Hold Your Breath and Fingers Tightly Crossed, unless you hear differently:
๐Ž๐ ๐Ž๐ to next week, Monday 28th September from the Stover Country Park car park with Hare Wigwam.


Run #1845 Monday 21st September from the Cridford Inn, Trusham, TQ13 0NR with hares Forrest and Manpig. PLEASE remember that once you have completed your run or walk, that is the end of the Teign Valley hash trail. If any individuals choose to use pub facilities afterwards then it is done by their personal choice. If a pub offers food then it is up to individuals to organise themselves and is not part of the Hash. To give us an idea of numbers, please indicate on post if you are attending. Thank you



Run #1844 Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor with Hare Pisswell

๐™Ž๐™๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™›๐™–๐™˜๐™š๐™™, ๐™Ž๐™๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™›๐™–๐™˜๐™š๐™™, ๐™ก๐™š๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ข๐™š ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™œ๐™ง๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™ข๐™–๐™ง๐™š
๐˜ผ๐™ก๐™ก ๐™–๐™ก๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™œ, ๐™™๐™ค๐™ฌ๐™ฃ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™œ, ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ก๐™š๐™š.
๐™๐™ค๐™ง ๐™„ ๐™ฌ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™œ๐™ค ๐™™๐™ค๐™ฌ๐™ฃ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™’๐™ž๐™™๐™š๐™˜๐™ค๐™ข๐™—๐™š ๐™๐™–๐™ž๐™ง
๐™’๐™ž’ ๐™‹๐™ž๐™ก๐™ฉ๐™™๐™ค๐™ฌ๐™ฃ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™‚๐™š๐™ค๐™ง๐™œ๐™ž๐™š, ๐™‹๐™ž๐™จ๐™จ๐™ฌ๐™š๐™ก๐™ก, ๐™„=๐™‹๐™ค๐™ค'๐™™, ๐™ ๐™ƒ๐™ช๐™ข๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ง, ๐™’๐™ค๐™ค๐™™ ๐™‡๐™š๐™ฃ๐™™, ๐™ˆ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฅ๐™ž๐™œ, ๐™•๐™š๐™ฃ, ๐™’๐™š๐™ฉ ๐™…๐™ค๐™๐™ฃ๐™ฃ๐™ฎ, ๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ง๐™œ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™๐™–๐™ซ๐™ž, ๐™€๐™ง๐™š๐™˜๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ, ๐˜ฝ๐™š๐™š๐™›๐™ฎ, ๐˜ฝ๐™ž๐™œ ๐™€๐™ฃ๐™™, ๐™’๐™š๐™ก๐™ก ๐™ƒ๐™ค๐™ฅ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™™, ๐˜ฟ๐™–๐™™, ๐™Ž๐™˜๐™ง๐™š๐™ฌ๐™š๐™™, ๐™‹๐™ก๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™ ๐™š๐™ง, ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™›๐™ช๐™ก ๐˜ฟ๐™ค๐™œ๐™œ๐™š๐™ง, ๐™Ž๐™–๐™ฉ๐™‰๐™–๐™ซ, ๐˜ผ๐™—๐™ก๐™š, ๐™‚๐™–๐™œ๐™–4๐™ž๐™ฉ, ๐™Ž๐™ˆ ๐™€๐™ก๐™ก๐™ž๐™š, ๐™Ž๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™–๐™ฅ-๐™Š๐™ฃ, ๐˜ฝ๐˜ฝ, ๐™๐™–๐™ก๐™ก๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™’๐™ค๐™ข๐™–๐™ฃ, ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ ๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™ˆ๐™–๐™ฃ, ๐™‹๐™ค๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ฎ๐™š, ๐™‹๐™–๐™ง๐™–๐™‹, 69 ๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™ช๐™จ ๐™– ๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ง๐™œ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™ก๐™–๐™™๐™ฎ,
๐™Š๐™ก๐™™ ๐™๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™ก๐™š ๐™๐™ค๐™ง๐™ง๐™š๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฉ๐™ช๐™ข๐™ฅ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ก
๐™Š๐™ก๐™™ ๐™๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™ก๐™š ๐™๐™ค๐™ง๐™ง๐™š๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฉ๐™ช๐™ข๐™ฅ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ก
No? Well please...
Come on, let's get this show on the road with another quick chorus to rouse the troops to action:
๐‘ฏ๐’๐’• ๐’Š๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’˜๐’†๐’‚๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“, ๐’‰๐’‚๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’Š๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’‚๐’Ž๐’†
๐‘พ๐’†'๐’“๐’† ๐’‚๐’๐’ (๐’๐’๐’• ๐’•๐’๐’ ๐’„๐’๐’๐’”๐’†) ๐’•๐’๐’ˆ๐’†๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“ ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’‰๐’‚๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’Š๐’” ๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’‚๐’Š๐’Ž
A military operation had to be mounted to get to the Rugglestone, high up on the moor and a feeling of great anticipation prevailed throughout the day. Oh Yes, Dearly I Don't Get Out Very Often, Monday is undoubtedly the highlight of the week for many.
The Penners had finally broken radio silence and avowed to make this hash and other MIA had also pledged reinforcing the barricades.
Keeping religiously way under the speed limit over the moor - 40 mph way too fast - as roamin' cows, sheep and ponies all over the shop, I was pleased that there was a space for the chariot in the Rugglestone's congested car park just before seven.
Pisswell had promised that she wouldn't lead us into any bogs (shame that) and what with the heatwave and weather assur-ed, we were set Widecombe Fair for a glorious night, Oh Dearly Why Didn't You Make It?
Interesting chat with ParaP about Haldon aerodrome in WW2 and a quick catch-up with the regulars. However, the main talking point was the return of the Penners, Wet Johnny (looking ominously fit), Erection (still slimline) (Manopause nursing injury) and a new Penner, Ravi. Welcome back lads, we really missed you! 
And they weren't the only returnees - Wood Lend, Gaga4it, Big End, Well Hopped and Dad returned at long last and I only spotted Zen after the run as he was a bit late for the circle I think. Pisswell had brought along a virgin hasher and apologies if I missed anyone else. Pause for breath..
The Grand Master's chariot was tardy and the crew were trying to find a space, but with time a pressing and light a fading, Piltdown got on with proceedings - handing over to our hare of the evening, Pisswell of the Moors.
One L/S split, keeping to the footpaths and avoiding the bogs of certain death, the long about six miles and the short about three. Keep it simple, keep it safe.
As has been the norm for the past five hashes, there was a staggered start with small groups (maximum of six) setting off at intervals onto the trail.
The usual trailblazers, Plonker (last hash until December - can't say Christmas as apparently there isn't one this year) and Artful hadn't arriv-ed so the Bird felt lucky and pinged out onto the welcoming tarmac.
Things were going swimmingly until the first check where the Bird played the game checking but chose wrong and was ignominiously shuffled to the rear.
๐‘ฉ๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ ๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’‘๐’–๐’“๐’“๐’†๐’… ๐’๐’Š๐’Œ๐’† ๐’‚ ๐’Ž๐’‚๐’…๐’Ž๐’‚๐’, ๐’”๐’‰๐’“๐’Š๐’†๐’Œ๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’‚ ๐’„๐’–๐’“๐’”๐’† ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’Œ๐’š
๐‘พ๐’Š๐’•๐’‰ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’˜๐’‰๐’Š๐’•๐’† ๐’“๐’๐’‚๐’… ๐’”๐’Ž๐’๐’Œ๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’ƒ๐’†๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’… ๐’‰๐’Š๐’Ž ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’‰๐’Š๐’” ๐’“๐’‚๐’‘๐’Š๐’†๐’“ ๐’ƒ๐’“๐’‚๐’๐’…๐’Š๐’”๐’‰๐’†๐’… ๐’‰๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰*
SM Ellie and Strap-On were going for gold and then round the bend appeared Popeye, going like the clappers and furtively looking over his shoulder to check who was screaming to the gods on high. 
Up ahead was Manpig making a good fist of things as was his wont and then an ominous patter of feet came from behind. Oh please let it be Beefy and not..... Arghhh, NO-OO, it's WET JOHNNY!
Dressed all in black, the hash assassin swept past with nary a sideways glance, never to be seen again... Sigh, back to the drawing board, Beefy.
But never mind, the mysterious moor beckoned, and teaming up with Manpig, we left the trickle of tarmac, shedding a farewell tear.
Wood Lend plus two tiny Baskervilles joined our tiny band and immediately we lost the trail. Big End, Well Hopped and Popeye arrived and spreading out, we searched for clues.
I did fear for Manpig as he approached a rather large cow which stood its ground, glaring at the intruder.
Trail found and resum-ed, on we coursed through many a gate and over high stiles galore.
The last vestiges of light retreated and the head torches were illuminated as we continued into the realms of darkness. Not really a place to be on your own and I was glad that I had companions.
'ROAD!' did the Bird scream triumphantly on several occasions only to groan as the marks almost immediately resumed onto the purple moor. But what the heck, it was gloriously warm, underfoot was dry and I had no idea where we were, Oh Dearly Never a Moan. Oh bury me here should I fall one night... and I Shirley did a few minutes later.
And many were the adventures the three hashers and two muttlies had before the garden lights of the Rugglestone were espied far below.
Descending a steep (tarmac) hill, another patter of feet closed fast astern and there was Plonker who had somehow mislaid Artful en route.
And then suddenly we crashed into Widecombe crossroads and a quick burst on the banjo saw us back into the car park. Olรฉ!
We found out later the reason why Beefy hadn't overhauled us. He had been sweeping the trail to make doubly sure that none had gone astray. I believe there was a slight suspicion that Coldtits might have arrived late and was on trail but she messaged that she could not make the hash, so all was well.
Five and a half miles and an hour of fun on a tropical, adventure trail with at least one spill.** It was great, Pisswell, we really enjoyed it. Very worthwhile and memorable. Thank you.
I cannot really say that the Rugglestone was welcoming as it was closed inside but taking drinks orders at the door. Manpig and I plumped for the Butcombe and my word, what a fine pint it was. We supped and appreciated a couple - beers that is - in the garden before wending our way back home across the moor. Quite an evening.
Thank you for the words of encouragement, Wood Lend, appreciated.
*From one of the finest poems I have read: 'The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes. Shirley worth a read.
**He who shall be nameless came a purler in some far-flung meadow.
ON ON to next Monday 21st September from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with hares Forrest and Manpig.


 Run #1844 Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor TQ13 7TF with hare Pisswell. Parking will be limited in the car park (opposite) and so the pub suggests parking in the village car park which is free and a short warm up run to pub. Once again, can I ask that you indicate on this post whether you will be attending the trail. Thank you everyone and thank goodness we can still continue our beloved hashing.

Image may contain: text that says "Coombe Northway B,3387 238 PH Southcombe be in the Moorg Webburn River 256 Venton! hut Circle Logan Stone Wind Tor Hollowe? Tor hut Cireles Higher Dunstone Pil Tor Soales Arrishe Blackslade Cairn Btackslade"


  Run #1843 Monday 7th September from the Wild Goose Inn with Birthday Gal T Humper

With a barely concealed snarl of rage, Bobby Woll wrestled the Panzerkampfwagen into the tiny village car park, ignoring the large overhead sign KEINE PANZERS HIER*... Yes, Oh Dearly Dismayed, the Rottenfรผhrer was still Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

A fine turnout as follows:

GM Shitfaced, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Strap-On, Archangel, Manpig, Beefy, Piltdown, Georgie P, SM Eliie, Wigwam, Coldtits, Wetfart, Beefy, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Slip on Me, Plonker, Artful Dogger with Reuben the pooch making his hash debut, #69, Forrest, BroadS, Able and two virgins - Jane (GM's auntie) and Joey (another TBGS recruit brought along by Artful) and, appearing post-run but having run, was SatNav making a grand total of twenty seven hashers true.

An official circle was formed up (plenty of room to distance) and the Grand Master addressed the multitude. Birthdays two would be reveal-ed later and I-Poo'd's famed alcoholic steeped confections would also be on offer.

With the glad tidings dispensed, the GM handed over to the Official Hare for the evening - T Humper.
One L/S split, a long of five miles, a short of four and a walkers' exercise of one and a half was on the menu.

However, Oh Dearly Confus-ed, the local Bird had been enlisted to mule the flour around the long. The trails had been laid on Sunday and such was the madding crowd gadding about, it seemed like a good idea to send a live hare out to live lay some sections of the trail... Sigh

A smattering of head torches were on show, though Beefy was prematurely advised by He who shall be Nameless that they wouldn't be needed...Double sigh

Thus the hashers of war were let slip and the wiles of the trail beckoned - but back to them later, Oh Dearly Hang on a Sec...

The bandana clad Wiggy and Forrest spearheaded the serried ranks of intermingled shorts and walkers as the live hare, carrying a 1.5 kg of flour, legged it up Slackery en route for the river. Time was of the essence, as the greyhounds would Shirley devour the Bird if he tarried Larry.

Meanwhile, back with the charging longs, a turbo charged Plonker had lit the FRBs up and with eyes narrowed and red visor down he led the warriors up the rise en route to Stoke. Half a mile later, the OH marker was sighted - arrowed towards them and mighty were the wails that echoed down the valley. Oh Yes, Oh Dearly Hold Your Hands Up, the Bird brain had Blue-footed booby** bird boobed.

The longs had failed to see the faded grey cat litter marks turning into the footpath after two hundred yards. Yes, I know (now) it should have been a check but didn't want it there when the trail came back on itself.
But never mind, shades of The Bard, methinks I do protest...

Cut back to the hash vanguard and gaily didst the prancing Bird continue his guileless fool's errand, liberally dispensing flour as if it had gone out of fashion (it was ruddy heavy mush, if you must know).

Amongst the elephant grass
The hashers hurtled past
Confronted with the L1 L2 impasse
The legion stood aghast...**

For those that were there - if they care, the L legend explain-ed:
L1 = A Walk on the Wild Side and L2 = Sod it, let's just get on with it. 

The first L1 took the intrepid disposed onto the now overgrown but former footpath skirting through the woods beside Netherton House before merging with the Templer Way.

The second L1 had been intended as a 'beat the tide' section but proved to be a gentle meander along the sand into Hearn Field.

Fallen Woman did well to get round the multi-terrain short of over four miles as did Piltdown, Georgie and Coldtits, who had to rush back for the mother-in-law back at the homestead. We were blessed with lovely weather and timely sunset with great views over the Teign en route.

By Arch Brook VP (as identified in flour) they paused to wonder before the brave stumbled up the Teignharvey 'road' Stoke bound. The tarmac worshippers' prayer was answered with the plunge down Forches Hill and the road run in back to the Goose. Goodbye, that's all he wrote.
By the way, how did you all fare with the 'water jump' just before Forches Hill? Pretty nasty if you were going too fast!

Finally released from his floury impost, the Bird fled, fearfully looking over his shoulder for the pursuing horde which never appeared.

Yes, Oh Dearly I told You So, a few did make the car park in the fast fading light but darkness reigned when the longs finally completed their journey. My apologies all you longs - my error, not yours.

Opening just for us, the Goose was welcoming and the whisper had already gone out - They've got Legend!
The 'bring your own grub' route was generous indeed by the management and a table was set for the de luxe confectionery and birthday cake for T Humper and Forrest - Happy Birthday to both!
I had brought most of a Mediterranean Vegetable Quiche (left over from Dear old Mum's meal) which was sampled by so many that I was left with a tiny morsel.

*No Panzers here!
**Yes, a real bird - I did not know that.
***It looked so good when I typed it after 4 pints of Leg End. Now I'm not so sure Shirley.

Well, after completing five hashes after the End of the World darkness, the dread news on Tuesday sent shock waves through the hashing fraternity. GM Shitfaced collapsed on his sofa in a beer-induced coma after unwisely communicating with a demented Bird - sorry about that GM but I was on the liquid of life as well.
As for the words, they were not possible. A dread malaise took hold and morbid were my thoughts. But better late than ... sorry everyone.

So, finally, in the words of the Prophet Gerry, singalong with me:

When you hash through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of a hash
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Hash on through the wind
Hash on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Hash on, hash on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never hash alone..

The punchline quite simply: FIVE HASHES AND NO FUNERAL

ON ON to Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor with Hare Pisswell.


HASH SUBS £25 and for your assistance you can now use the BACS payment system to pay please.
Details as follows.... Hash Account number 69068186 Sort code 55-70-01 NOTE you must use your HASH NAME as a reference. Many thanks Three-Some & Satnav



Grand Master Shitfaced mobile 07973 682201
Vice G M Winfield mobile 07855355338
On Sec Piltdown Man mobile 07773038756
R A Organiser Teapot
R A Manpig
R A Forrest Stump
R A Fallen Woman
Hash Cash Threesome
Hash Tax Satnav
Trail Raiser Doris
Haberdashery Zoot
Song Master Pork Torpedo
Social Sec T. Humper
Spider /Web Bluebird
Life President Pottsie
Vice President K C sadly not with us



GREATHASHGOD: A dedicated site (presently mothballed and serves as archive content only) with all TVH3 content. Mostly photos from each Monday's hash but also some video clips. Named after our Life President Pottsie.

PRECONDEROTOUS: Containing the entire archive of TVH3 of some 1000 vid clips and over 5000 posts and photos. Started on November 11th 2007, the site is active with Bluebird's personal content but the archive content is fascinating and preserved, well worth a look.























Previously unreleased clip - Vicky's naming from the Sea Trout