𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓 & 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝟓𝟒, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

Run #1855 Monday 28th December from Steamer Quay car park, Totnes with Wet Johnny

Fearing not the inclement weather, hardy and foolhardy hashers alike, set sail for Steamer Quay out in the Totnes wilds.

 

Approaching from Newton side, one of the foolhardy charioteers was confronted by the dreaded 'No Right Turn' sign and had to make a complicated manoeuvre to overcome the obstacle. The Idiot doubled down on the mistaka by then taking the Wong Wei into the Bridgetown complex... shouldn't really be allowed out.

 

The tiny chariot cavalcade chugged into the Steamer tether and a lonely, nigh on deserted place it was. The Penners were out there to Support Your Local Sheriff! (1969) and come the circle up, there we were - the last hashers on a post-apocalyptic planet.

 

The roll call of surviving warriors:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, Erection, Ben, Manopause, Beefy, Pisswell, Fallen Woman (yes, I did see you), Grinder, Deep Throat, ManPig, guest appearance of Zen, BB, Fukarwi and late arriving Wide Receiver.

 

The Grand Master rallied his mini-throng with stirring words before handing over to Wet Johnny. He recounted dreadful tales of suspicious locals who thought he was putting down poison and being hopeful that the marks would endure out there in possible hostile territory. There were two long short splits and a short section where the marks were both sides describing an out and backer. Quite a few of us (the Birdbrain included) usually don't pay attention to the hare's directives, but for once, I'm glad I did.

 

The chequered flag was lowered and the tiny huddle cautiously ventured out. The first L/S split materialized after a hundred yards and out of the corner of my good eye saw ManPig veer off sharply left - onto the short trail... sigh

 

A strangely configured zig-zag ascent of tarmac bends made the Bird Dizzy, his head was spinning, like a whirlpool it never ends.. No? Well please yourselves then.

 

A short urban Tour de Bridgetown ensued before we came upon Piltdown, Georgie and pooch pootling along the road, they were stardust, they were golden and they had to get themselves back to the car park..

 

Beefy overtook further along the bypass after some sightseeing diversion and we arrived on the Plains knowing our Final Destination (2000).

 

A sleepless entity, sister of Doom, Miss Fortune cast down her malevolent gaze upon Fukarwi and the hero of two hundred and more hashes hashed no more this chill evening. Abandoning all hope, grimly did Fukarwi salute before peeling off. Adios amigo.

 

Disconsolate was the Bird who had been Wishin' And Hopin' to singalong along the long [Shirley sic] with the Fam-ed One.

 

Now only the indomitable ManPig was there to play the game with as we hit the west bank climb above a silvery Dart.

 

It now becomes hazy, so in earnest hope that there is someone out there who is slightly interested, here are some observations of the trail:

 

Beefy storming up the hill (the all-seeing Strava reveals all) to catch Deep Throat and Grinder who were FRBeing - comme d'habitude.

 

Fallen Woman well to the fore on the short - a shame there were no other harriets to keep her company.

That champion Christmas pud eater Manopause, though carrying a few extra pounds, sighted so far along the trail that he should have been on the long.

 

A bit of a mystery seeing the lights of the trailblazers far below on their return journey, but nearly a mile ahead. ManPig and the Bird wondering how they had built up such a lead.

 

My heel going completely on the last loop ascent and relieved that ManPig was waiting for me by the red reflectors and that vertical drop stile.

 

Slowmo progress on the muddy trail back but ManPig patiently making sure the Bird didn't become a dead duck.

 

Thought Manopause had caught us up near the new housing estate but finding it was Wide Receiver who had set off late.

 

Pretty clever stuff by Wet Johnny as we finished the trail with Erection, Ben, Fallen Woman and Zen.

Hobbling to the chariot thinking it was the end of me.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

A strange evening, what with one thing and another and difficult to relate to those who were not there, so be so kind as to tolerate my ramblings - made worse by accidentally deleting the original words.

Wet Johnny, what can I say? The trail was a good 'un and the marks were clear and endured thankfully. All our regular hares acknowledge the effort and commitment needed to lay a trail, knowing too well that many will give it a miss at this time of year. 

 

Well done for all that came along and top marks to Pisswell for getting round the long (as she always does). I daresay she was a bit surprised when Wide Receiver joined her from apparently nowhere.

Let us hope that 2021 is better for us all as we have soldiered on so bravely the past few months and truly deserve a change of luck.

 

One last thing, are you okay Fukarwi, Car 54, Where Are You? Talk to me old buddy!

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week and the Station CP at Bovey Tracey with hare Pisswell

Monday 28th December 7:15 pm with Wet Johnny

 

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐇! 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Run #1854 Monday December 21st from Maidencombe beach CP with Bluebird und der Rottenführer Bobby Woll

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒁𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒚 (𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒏)

 

Grisled* veterans, hash heroes past, present and yet to come, stood stoically in a far flung chariot tether under steadily falling rain awaiting their fate. Some had travelled from afar, in faint hope of festive cheer in a plague ridden land of woe.

 

However, it did not look promising. In fact, to be brutally honest, the Bird thought he was staring disaster in the face. A Host of Golden Daffodils gilded obstacles awaited the duo on their Last Hurrah! hash. A sea of mud would Shirley be off-putting to a few and the weather looked pretty unappetizing - sustained drizzle, wind strength increasing and the threat of heavier outbreaks of rain. The only saving grace was that it was unseasonably mild at some 12 C.

 

Bulletins across the bay from Bobby became fractured and then suddenly ceased. Garbled last words from the Panzer ace: 'No oil, der Panzer is seizing up, try to get there later...'

 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Bluebird waited in his silver chariot. The plan, such as it was, had been put in place and now all that was required were the players - but would they appear...

 

They trickled [sic] into the car park and the fear of not making double figures was groundless. The Last Hurrah! roll call:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Geogie, SM Ellie, Wet Johnny, Erection, Gianluca, Ben, Ollie, Beefy, Pisswell, Archangel, ManPig, Fukarwi, Bobby Woll, BB, Wide Receiver and Able.

B Roads Hit had more bad luck, succumbing to lurgy as did 69 up on the moor. Steph was working, Fallen Woman had a little emergency, Triple Jump and the mysterious Lady Jane demurred and Artful Dodger ran [sic] out of time.

 

The Penners came to the aid of the party, despatching a white chariot raiding party with Wet Johnny, Erection and three elves.

 

Bobby Woll slewed to a halt below the anti-tank barrier with black smoke pouring from the rear and the game was good to agogo.

 

The Grand Master, sporting his staff of Moses authority, greeted the mini pack, playing for time as we awaited Beefy and Pisswell who were Shirley en routey**.

 

He who should not be nam-ed was skulking - I mean sheltering under a tree and was summoned. The glad tidings gave little cheer. Three trails were on offer: Two miles for the walkers, three for the shorts and about three and a half for the longs. But fearing greatly for the demise of the walkers, both hares would escort same to their destination high up above the combe.

 

Hashers were reassured that they were safe from falling off the cliff trail into the sea and, with a silent prayer, they were released into the mud, drizzle and darkness.

 

The shorts and longs headed south towards Watcombe leaving a tiny band of walkers - the GM still recovering from a back injury and Able. Sherpa backpack laden, Bobby and the Bird provided escort and the pioneers fearlessly struck out northwards, en route to the famed 'Suit of Armour' viewpoint.

The climbs, though slow going, were safe. It was the descents that were the problem. Progress was painfully slow and as altitude was gained, we looked back, expecting to see the longs at any moment.

 

What we didn't realize was that some of the longs had (quite understandably as cat litter goes a nondescript grey when wet) gone off trail after entering the orchard and had lost time - fortunately for the hares.

 

With nigh on half an hour elapsed to cover three quarters of a mile, Plan B was initiated and the rallying cream liqueur and mince pie stop was brought back a valley and a hill.

 

Able had a slight disagreement with the final stile but was muddied, not bloodied and there below us were the brightly lit trio of cruise ships - our Three Wise Men bringing their gift of light.

 

The sealed cream liqueur was served up with Tesco's kitchen gloves - first to avail himself being the GM himself who had a generous double hit of the £3.89 a bottle brew*** HA!

 

Just as we began to fret, approaching lights at last were sighted and ManPig, Wet Johnny plus Ben and Gianluca preceded Beefy and Wide who had been further delayed by a Maidencombe beach detour - possibly hoping that the Bird had arranged a boat for a cruise ship tour... sigh.

 

And there were Piltdown and Georgie who had safely navigated the short unscathed and that was a great relief. Erection arrived with Olly, the tiniest hasher seen for many a year and he had never seen anything like it before, but was, like Gianluca and Ben, oozing enthusiasm. Future hashing material those three, mark my words.

 

Just one hasher missing - where was SM Ellie? No reports of her progress from other hashers as we kept looking for her head torch. The longs carried on and some shorts and walkers retreated to the crossroads, keeping high.

 

Erection alerted me that a light was climbing up to us but when I investigated, found it was from a cruise ship!

 

Finally spotted her and we shouted across the valley - was that you and did you hear me SM Ellie?

 

Down Steep Hill did we wend, our journey nigh on done and past the locked and barred Thatched Tavern to find that Ziggy (our brilliant Green Man) had a welcome fire pit ablaze. 

 

In wonder, hashers drew near, blinking in surprise. Shirley it could not be true? Why yes, an On Down of sorts and there was just enough Proper Job to go round for the 'spaced out' TVH.

 

Thanks Zigs, you were the Main Man and I owe you one.

 

Bobby Woll had to feed the Panzer more oil but got back home safely. Good boy Bobby!

 

Walking homewards, a happy hare was singing:

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 ...

 

*archaic like me.

**Slightly late as checked the Labrador Bay CP first!

***O'Connor's Irish Country Cream 70cl £3.89 virtually the same taste as Baileys - go for it!

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

I must admit that I had been dreading the evening as in my mind, so many things could have gone Pete Tong. It was only after talking with Wiggy that I was confident of providing the little extras for the trail.

Thank you all for keeping the faith and coming out on such an inhospitable evening - every one of you made the evening special and ultimately successful.

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to next week and Wet Johnny's trail from Steamer Quay long stay car park at Totnes. Details/map to follow.

 

𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐋 and let's hope 2021 brings better tidings.

ONCE MORE ONTO MANPIG'S KILLER TRAIL DEAR HASHERS

 

Run #1853 Monday 14th December from the Parish Centre CP Kingskerswell with hare ManPig

𝑻𝒉𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉

𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂 '𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈' 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈

𝑶𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆,

𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈

 

The star of hope shone bravely from St Mary's church as I nosed past at a quarter to seven. Entering the deserted Parish centre chariot tether, I wondered if it was indeed Monday - confus-ed at last have I succumbed.

 

Brevity is the word for the Bird this week, warriors all and mayhap you may miss Misses Eaton, Temple and Bassey.

 

Events conspired against several hashers to reduce the roll-call and select was the gathering:

GM Shitfaced, Able, Coldtits, SM Ellie, Beefy, Fukarwi, Pisswell, Grinder, Deep Throat, Wide Receiver, 69, ParaP, Jane, Wigwam, SatNav (late, so late, for our most important date), BB, ManPig, Big End and Well Hopped (with Ned).

 

Cutting to the chase and resisting my usual superfluous chit-chat, I will merely pass on fleeting and nightmarish recollections of the déjà vu trail.

 

ManPig's briefing which failed to jog my memory as he stated 'Only three of you have run this trail before'.

Wondering if it was possible to run after an aborted warm-up.

The penny finally dropping as we climbed towards the Nellie.

The real fear of not being able to cope again with Manpig's Killer Trail from November 10th - the Famous Three who did it being Beefy, Pisswell and the Bird.

Directing the faltering FRBs down Daccombe Mill Lane in the absence of marks. Someone saying 'Why are we following Bluebird?'

Calling FRBs back when they had missed the turning up Downaway Lane.

Relieved that Fukarwi, Well Hopped and Big End were there after Beefy, Grinder, Deep Throat and Wide Receiver had disappeared.

Stumbling and nearly falling on rugged long loop descent. Big End and Fukarwi worried that they might have to carry me back.

Deep Throat overtaking yet again after smashing off-trail.

Chatting with Fukarwi about my favourite tv quiz Pointless which took my mind off the mounting pain in my heel.

The fun of trying to dodge the muddy puddles in Deerpark Lane back on the short trail.

The elation inducing tarmac downhill run before immediately grinding to a halt on the last climb back to civilization.

Being unable to run up the last few yards of a gentle hill and thankful I had got round.

Waiting in the car park with Beefy until Pisswell and ManPig got back.

Enjoying seeing everybody and at least having an evening out.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

It was as dread a trail that I can recall, but perhaps my boat is being called in at last. I still wouldn't have missed it though as I passed the test. I was spent after completing a solo around ManPig's 'Ghost Trail' last month but couldn't have imagined that I would be doing it again. 

 

It crossed my mind that ManPig might have departed early after the trail but I should have known better than that. After laying the Beast, he swept the trail - which was ideally manufactured to see both long and short sections - arriving back with Pisswell. A pretty rugged effort by ManPig. Te saluto, I salute you my son.

 

Thank goodness Fukarwi, Big End and Well Hopped (plus a beautifully groomed and washed Ned - definitely needed again after the trail!) were there for company, I would have suffered greatly without them. But that's what hashing is all about, isn't it?

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week and Glory Be, it's Me. Quite possibly a change of venue from that discussed Monday so make sure you look for updates here. Hares BB AND the infamous Rottenführer himself, Bobby (Panzer) Woll.

A WINTER'S TALE WITH SHIGGY GALORE SERVED UP BY SCREWED (WITH BELLA)

 

Run #1852 Monday 7th December from the Canal CP Teigngrace with Screwed & Bella

 

𝑨 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝑰'𝒎 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑𝒚'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒌

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Dry, starv-ed of the liquid of life, inspiration was absent. Delusion, already alcoholess fermenting, became rampant as I thought of exotic excuses to explain the absence of words this week.

But what would they Shirley think, the loyal and trusting fabled few as they drifted away - perhaps a little disappointed, who knows? So (Cruise) without further Much Ado About Nothing:

 

𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆;

𝑶𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒃 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅...

 

That's better, I think I can continue now Shirley, so read on my one faithful reader and rejoice (or despair) that all is not now lost:

 

A lone chariot with Manopause at the wheel was tethered in that wild and lonely Canal car park out in deepest Teigngrace. There was nothing else to do and Manopause became aware of a chariot describing complicated manoeuvres out on the highway. Twice it passed before finding the entrance. It could only be one hasher, and He who should not be nam-ed finally nosed alongside.... sigh.

 

My first natter with another hasher for some time and merry was the discourse until they arrived...

And arrive they did as they had FB pledged.

 

They trickled in from the hills and the valleys; from town, village and hamlet seeking redemption and solace.

 

Tricky seeing those in attendance but finally think I have everyone including dear Coldtits who arrived late but not as late as Archangel who started his run on Tuesday morning but play the game he Shirley did, eventually:

 

GM Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltdown, Georgy P, SatNav, Triple Jump, Gaga4It, Steph, Pisswell, T Humper, I-Poo'd, S M Ellie, Able, Well Hopped, Big End, Wet Johnny, Erection, Manopause, Beefy, ManPig, Deep Throat, Grinder, Artful Dogger, Wide Receiver, Slip on Me, Natalie, Coldtits, BB and Screwed with Bella.

 

Had it been but thirty five days since we all gathered by the river*? It seemed more than that to our close-knit and hash-starved band.

 

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩

𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩

𝘼 𝙢𝙖𝙟𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨

𝘼𝙥𝙧𝙚̀𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠!

𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙚'𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙗𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙙

𝙏𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙

 

The Grand Master reminded us how to circle up and offered up a question** (with no promise of a rewarding beer as there wuz no beer to be had) to the chilled cohort patiently waiting with frosty breath. Hares were requested for upcoming trails and then Screwed was asked to elucidate the intricacies of this, her virgin lay.

 

Three trails to satisfy all tastes and abilities: A walkers' pick me up (hopefully not) of two miles or so; a short of three plus miles and a long of five or more miles. We had previously been warned of mud, mud, glorious mud, so were prepar-ed Shirley.

 

The last but certainly not least instruction was 'No checks out there!' and we were summarily despatched into the Teigngrace mud.

 

All of five yards of terra tarmac and then it was skatey-skiddy time off-road. A Torbay AC club outing up front as Deep Throat and Grinder formed up with Wide Receiver and Wet Johnny and stretched the metaphorical rubber band ahead of a clod-hoppered and one-eyed Bird,

 

Artful Dogger, complete with doggy Reuben, were getting organized and a combat betrousered Beefy was starting to gather up a head of steam [sic naturally].

 

Holding the reserve head torch in one hand was not a good idea as soon it could not be operated owing to the finger numbing cold, glove time already Eddy?

 

Some way out, deep in the boondocks, a bugle was sounded - yes, Oh Dearly Impressed, Teapot was out and about, determined to get an infusion of hashing.

 

Soon we were spread out and some were isolated, but the trail twisted and turned along the canal banks and, as others, I found entertainment and contact with other hashers along the way.

 

Wide Receiver was a hundred or so yards up the track and pottering along, enjoying the scenery but even at his leisurely pace, it took a sustained 160 BPM*** effort to gain contact.

 

Passing by the ancient railway track, Wide pointed out the strange 'rocket' lying close to the disused railway. It was a veritable and unexplained mystery and we tarried awhile with Coldtits. But what's this? The appearance of Erection who had been like an itch I couldn't scratch for a couple of miles astern. Abandoning Penner buddy Manopause (unfit and presumably on the short?) Erection was evidently rockin' and rollin' en routey.

 

The trio set off again across the fields speckled from afar with twinkling urban lights and the terrain was rugged and shoe-suckingly muddy but at least the hands were warm again.

 

We were never far from the beautiful, the beautiful river [sic] but Deep Throat ('On a mission' according to WR) got closer than anyone, nearly careering into the icy depths at his frenetic pace... sigh.

 

Piltdown and Georgy (out and about again after fall) plus hash doggy moved over obligingly away from the electric fence as we overtook and soon we turned for home.

 

The FRBs were waiting and tales of derring-do were bandied about. ManPig and SM Ellie had somehow contrived to miss the long and a stewards enquiry ensued to determine the whereabouts of the river bridge and whether all had gone over it.

 

But never mind, we hashed and we had fun - full stop.

 

*There's almost always a river nearby at our hashes.

**When did the canal close? Apparently in 1937

***Beats Per Minute - anything over 150 is heart attack area for the Bird.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

Reflecting on the evening, there was great satisfaction derived. We had the usual excitement of the pre-circle gathering, then the trail itself which was excellently marked throughout and on horse racing going I would describe as 'heavy'. For a virgin trail lay, Screwed (with Bella) discharged her duties like an old hand, checking the marks beforehand, monitoring on trail and waiting for all hashers to return.

There was a few minutes of discussing the trail afterwards in the car park before Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow, our craving for the TV hash assuaged for now.

 

The temperature dipped markedly as Manpig and I waited for the safe return of Coldtits and an air frost glazed the tarmac and remaining cars, freezing my car boot lock solid. A Winter's Tale indeed this night but so well done Screwed - and the gallant Bella of course. A great deal of effort and well-received by all who took part.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

BroadS (knee injury) had wisely opted out to be on the safe side but why weren't you there 69 and Para?

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week from the Parish Centre CP Church End Rd, Kingskerswell, Newton Abbot which is about 50 metres up (towards Newton Abbot) from our usual car parking space in Church Meadow. Trail lay by our hasher on the spot, ManPig! Take care everybody.

A WANDERING VIRGIN & BELLA GETS THE GREEN LIGHT

 

Run #1851 Monday 2nd November from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny

Even more tardy are the words related this week, as I confess to a great melancholy which many of us may share. 

 

I beg your understanding for the confused jumble that follows:

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Devastated, hash, drink and be merry, afore the numbing November wilderness that Shirley awaits. 

 

Well, that should have cheered you up, so let's get ready to rumble.

 

They came to circle-up for the last round-up:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, Georgie, Able, visitor Mr X from H4, Pisswell, Steph, Natalie our virgin hasher, Beefy, Manpig, B Roads Hit going to risk it, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, SatNav, Jane with her wonderful wellies, Wet Johnny, Archangel, Coldtits, 69, Well Hopped, Big End & led Ned, Screwed & Bella. I think I got everybody.

 

Old friends, new friends and friends to be, gathered in the velvety, embracing darkness, faintly illuminated by a waning gibbous moon. Intimate, like a family affair, which of course it is, Oh Dearly Politically Incorrect Let Us Stick Together..

 

Ah, I feel a song coming on, so singalong with that seductive ladies swooning crooner*:

 

𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 (𝒏𝒐𝒕) 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓..

 

Yes, I know, I'm pertubalating** again.

 

Circle called to order and a virgin summoned for initiation. My, we hadn't seen this ceremony for many a wandering moon and you saw the joy in Teapot as he asked for flour to anoint the damsel new. And what was this? I do believe that a pair of new shoes were on show and gleefully did the R A supremo baptize the forbidden footwear.

 

An in depth pre-circle quizzing of the hare reveal-ed that the trail was heavily endowed with off-road and that a prodigious amount of the wet stuff had fallen - most recently at 5:30. 'But will I get away with my So Cruise road racers?' persisted he who should not be nam-ed. 'Do you remember the place you went a right royal purler last time? Well, it's even slippier now, so....'

 

Wet Johnny outlined the order of battle: A walkers' deluge delight, a soggy short of three or four and a long of five glorious miles.

 

The ON ON was called and with long warriors thin on the ground - Fukarwi on the road again - Beefy and the Karrimor clod-hoppered Bird sallied forth for the last Lockdown Long.

 

On skirting Orley Common, the second check materialized and the Bird waited (and recovered) to kick it out once Beefy had checked it out.

 

Whilst loitering with no particular place to go, (so we hashed way out on the Kokomo), a light approached from behind and a small dog attended by a young lady hove into sight. Naturally assuming it must be Well Hopped, I started a conversation, but was cut short by a 'I'm not with you lot!' and with a haughty sniff, she swept by... sigh. 

 

Just after a mile, B Roads Hit knew his hash was ended as the month long knee injury resurfaced and it was a lonely journey back to the chariot. Bad luck BroadS, but you'll be back, just like Arnie.

 

Meanwhile, back at the sharp end, Beefy and the Bird were puzzled. Where was old mucker ManPig? No sign of lights behind and for that matter, where were Big End and entourage? It was a rum do and no mistaka.

 

The crop denuded field of Agincourt mud opened up and on reaching the other side, the duo looked back to see a light commencing passage. Yes, it was ManPig who had been holding station some two hundred yards distant for a mile or two. But never mind, like all hashers true, his enjoyment of the trail was undiminished.

 

Shades of the previous week as we intersected with Coldtits on the short trail and had a chin-wag. Far away on the horizon, more lights appeared. It was beginning to get quite 'congested' out there but a Gold Star for the hare at cleverly combining the trails.

 

Past ye olde Church House Inn at Torbryan coursed the trailblazers. Glancing through the dimly lit window, two lonely and mournful drinkers were hunched over a table. And there ahead were Big End, Ned and Well Hopped, apparently on a short trail awayday.

 

Not so welcoming (trail shoes most unsuitable) road was encountered as we turned for home and came upon the l.e.d garlanded Bella who had got the green light with Screwed.

 

The last check awaited and Beefy chose right up the hill to espy Wet Johnny waiting for us accompanied by the long absent Manopause - nice to see you, to see you..

 

On her first hash, virgin Natalie, accompanied by Steph, went for a wander but both managed to get back to tell the tale. After seeing Beefy's Strava posting, they saw what had happened and are looking forward to next time.

 

Close to home, SM Ellie curiously appeared from the opposite direction. We never found out what exotic locations she had discovered on her village detour.

 

A pint or two of Otter in the Wellington put the seal on a very good evening.

 

*Bryan Ferry of course.

**Please tell me you didn't Google it.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

A professional trail lay by Wet Johnny and the five miles was exactly what was wanted. I know I harp on about my love of the rolling road, but with the correct footwear (for once), I really enjoyed the open country and muddy stretches aplenty. We thank you WJ for your well thought out and varied trail.

As hashers drifted away, Happy New Year greetings were exchanged as you never know, do you?

A closing tiny verse, intended for my own consumption to give even more cheer:

 

𝑶𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒐𝒉 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑨𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆..

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to who knows when. Take care, hashers.

MING THE MERCILESS, BECHER'S BROOK & A POSSIBLE WONG WEI

Run #1850 Monday 26th October from the Park Inn, Kingskerswell with hare I-Poo'd's Birthday trail

'𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 '𝒆𝒎 𝒚𝒆𝒕...'

 

Back to Headquarters for I-Pood's Birthday hash and an oasis hiatus in the curtain of autumnal depressions.

 

Prove to me that you're no fool* and recall those present:

 

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Teapot, 3Sum, Gag4It, Triple Jump, Brenda, Fukarwi, Roxanne, Harry, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, Big End, Small End, Ned, Well Hopped, Dad, I-Poo'd, T Humper, Archangel, Wiggy, Beefy, ManPig, SM Ellie, Slip on Me, Coldtits and special celebrity visit (and run) of Poacher and wingman Compo. Bobby Woll** arrived après trail for a diesel top-up.

 

Arriving late at the circle - test jog to see if it was possible to run - darkened figures were assembled for the pep talk and only a brief opportunity to check who was there. A number of tiny hashers were evident: Roxanne with Harry; Wet Johnny had brought along another Mini-Me - Gianluca and likewise Big End with a Small End (never did find out the nerd name).

 

A hashing milestone at #1850 and the expectant huddle half thought a tee shirt would be on offer, but the GM only celebrated the hashing landmark with a question about the first university to run a X country, Oh Dearly Robbed of a Memento..

 

Over to the hare(s) and a couple of stark warnings which sharpened the senses: Livestock in a field and the best angle of attack plus a stile that might 𝗘𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 (1999 Arnie) for the unwary.

 

The Go With Thy God was slightly anticipated by a pumped up and warmed up Bird who flew the coop (liked that so much last week, thought I'd try it again) and took wing down the hill, ignoring the vet's warning of a possible coronary.

 

With ears flat back and eyes narrowed, he waited for the Assassin to inevitably pass, not knowing that Wet Johnny would not be playing tonight, but having a day off training a wannabe assassin.

It was familiar territory down across the railway line and hard a port heading south up to the South Devon Highway flyover, safari so good, muchachos.

 

The footfalls and the flickering torches astern closed up as we crested the flyover and the L/S walkers split mark was espied. Thank you I-Poo'd, relief at not turning off into the shiggy either side and all hail the hill, Harry.

 

The tiny troops and hashing dads were formed up and Fukarwi - he that is patently lacking in fitness Shirley, was able to tag along for the ride.

 

Up and ever upwards ManPig, Beefy and the Bird endured and a windmill was mentioned by ManPig which seemed a good place to build one - on top of a mountain..

Breasting the summit and then:

 

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒘

𝑨-𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘

 

Come on, singalong with Johnny Cash and the Ghost Hashers in the Sky:

 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒍

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍..

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒐𝒐𝒉

𝒀𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒚𝒊 𝒚𝒂𝒚

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚...

 

Didulikethat? No? Well I did anyway.

 

Warily did the dread three steer [sic] past the mighty herd, but hold hard Harry, the next obstacle loom-ed large - the fearsome stone drop stile AKA Becher's Brook on the National course at Aintree. The hashers with hooves of steel leapt over with alacrity but the delicate one hesitated, sensing, as always, his imminent demise and had to be assisted by Beefy.

 

The entrance to Compton Castle appeared on the left as we changed direction and the promise of the Gun Dog urged us onwards.

 

Glancing back, Beefy's light had disappeared and the thought was that his knee injury had forced an abandon, so it was a relief that he appeared safely a short time after the finish.

 

ManPig was on a mission and pushed on. Suddenly, a harriet appeared from the right hand track - it was SM Ellie and I stopped for a quick 'We must stop meeting like this..' and ManPig was quickly fifty yards to the good and going for glory. Into Snakey Copse and there, in the distance, was another short trail hasher and he was going pretty well. 

 

For a moment I thought it was Big End (same blue jacket), but as I closed, found it was Wiggy who confirmed later that for a few moments out there, he felt he was going great guns.

 

Ming the Merciless ManPig wasn't going to let 10 Grand Prix points slip from his grasp and continued to pour it on - right into his chateau which was most handily placed for a quick wash 'n' brush up.

 

There was no hiding from the all-seeing eye in the sky GPS, which revealed a possible Wong Wei by dear Coldtits nearing the end of her run. Arriving back at the railway bridge near the church, she embarked on another lap before eventually turning back.

 

Shirley Suspicion fell on the Bird when he arriv-ed back alone at the Park fifty minutes after departure. 'Did you see the castle?' enquired 3Sum to wit the reply from the dim-witted one [sic] was 'What castle? ...sigh

 

Now for a well-earned Gun Dog. Over and out for now, Oh Long Suffering Readers.

 

*And walk across my swimming pool - from the 1970 rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar.
**Sad news that the real Bobby Ball passed away this very evening.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

Testing and well laid trails, with all tastes catered for and a lot of work put in by I-Poo'd and company. The shorts at 4.19 miles (courtesy of Coldtits Strava) was only a mile shorter than the longs so they are to be congratulated on their efforts out there. The walking trail was an interesting figure of eight 1.47 miles (courtesy of 3Sums Strava).

 

The individuals that dropped by into the Park were particularly well looked after by a very hard working and attentive Park 'n' Ride - thank you 'Dad'! Some great photos posted of I-Poo'd enjoying laying the trail and a very Happy Birthday to you from everyone with thanks for all your efforts. In closing, a good time had by all and it was good to see Poacher again, cheers my old son.

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 with everlasting hope in our hearts to next week from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with hare Wet Johnny.

ALL ARE SAFELY GATHERED IN ON AN EVENTFUL EVENING

Run #1849 Monday 19th October from Bovey Tracy CP with hares Beefy and Pisswell

 

I was late, so late, for a most important date as I turned into Bovey. A figure striding purposefully towards the Dolphin - away from the circle CP - caught my (Pop) eye, more on that later.

 

Entering the car park, a goodly number was already gathered by the river, the beautiful the beautiful river, but still below the maximum Judge Dredd requirement in these dystopian times.

 

Circle spotted:

GM Shitfaced, Teapot, Piltdown, Georgie, 3Sum, SatNav, Able, Slip on Me, Well Hopped, Big End & Ned, Screwed & Bella, Fukarwi, Roxanne, Harry, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, SM Ellie, Pisswell, ManPig, Strap-On, BB, Coldtits, Artful Dogger, Beefy, Popeye, Gaga4It, Triple Jump and special guest appearance of Wide Receiver.

 

A pleasant surprise to see Wide Receiver back with us once more, but little time to chat as circle up was imminent. But wait, that's Popeye loitering in a tent* across the road and I know it's early, but singalong with me to the Coasters smash hit of '57 if you please:

 

(𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎**)

𝑨-𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒂-𝒘𝒂𝒚

𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉

𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏'

𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒂-𝒘𝒂𝒚...

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Named and Shamed, Popeye was a searchin' for the Land Ho! circle but after a few bird calls from the car park, eventually joined our ranks... really Popeye, we thought you were one of us not one of...

 

And, Oh Dearly Confusion May Reigneth, there were two overlapping trails out there in the Bovey boondocks but never mind, Beefy had a cunning plan which was to be executed with remarkable precision. I know, hashes are not renowned for going right, but this was to be the exception that proves the rule, Rodney.

 

Contact had been made with Beefy's opposite number at Land Ho! and a campaign plan was hatched. TVH marks were a single dot and t'other one would have a double dot. Justatomakasura Shirley, all checks were suspended with arrows substituted. Hashers with caveman IQ's struggled to comprehend the complexities of the enterprise and Pete Tong nodded sadly.

 

Two L/S splits and a longish long of six miles and a bit with supporting short and hiking trails and, without further ado, Beefy dropped the chequered flag.

 

With the pep talk still being digested, the pack Hit the Road Jack [sic] and now comes the tricky bit which, doubtless, a few will be interested in, Oh Dearly How Can I Get Out of This...

 

Wide was on rails early doors and on the bunny through the unlikely chicanes pursued by Artful. Onto the B3344 Highway to Heaven and the Nike Epic Reacts*** were a joy - though a recent knee niggle was hampering engaging top gear - love it ,safari so good... BUT

 

An arrow of Ultimate Doom pointed down into an unappetizing and apparently muddy lane and the Bird, still undergoing therapy from the previous week, was loathe to leave the safety of the tarmac. Wet Johnny was bringing up the rear and enquired if all was well with the Bird who had now gone a Whiter Shade of Pale. But now I must hand you over to the hash proper while I try and make up a good story..

 

The pack dutifully descended into the black hole, turned left across two fields and were regurgitated back onto the main road three hundred yards along. Wide and Artful had flown the coop but the advance party of longs comprising Wet Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped, Fukarwi and Erection came across a very surprised hasher who could not believe his eyes and promptly fell to the ground, a foaming at the mouth. Oh Deary Me..

 

Convinced he was back on trail, the Bird flew [sic] down the road while the scouting party - equally convinced that the Bird had finally cracked - turned back to explore other more attractive avenues [sic]...

 

No marks, no marks, was the result and the Bird was now in quite a quandary. On his lonesome, he raised the white flag and retraced his faltering footsteps. Nothing! Not a sausage! Back to the right-minded...

 

A panel of red warning lights flashed on Artful's dash and after making the only real hill summit, he decided to abandon his burnt-out Ferrari and freewheeled forlornly back down into Bovey for an early bath. He only just missed intersecting with a (by now) very desperate Bird who was playing his final card to get back in the game.

 

A tiny blob of flour at the fire station roundabout gave hope that the trail would cross the Moretonhampstead road at some point and six turn-offs (all carefully inspected) later, a glorious arrow of redemption was sighted on the right hand side. That's handy Harry, pop it in the oven****..

 

Only just in time as Wide appeared some way in front of the next hasher, Wet Johnny, who had gradually moved through the pack. Then ManPig arrived and went on his lonely way. Several minutes later, merry banter could be heard and the Fukarwi styled 'touring club' crossed the road - namely Fukarwi, Popeye, Big End, Ned and Well Hopped.

 

Two hundred yards later, we came upon ManPig who had been studiously examining the vegetation for some time, looking for clues....sigh

 

Hashing proper got underway and the trail led us into the East Dartmoor woods of Beefy's realm. Hash calls could be heard from Land Ho! and ManPig called back to let them know that TVH were here and about to join the party. Did you hear us Grinder? I know you're there, so don't try and hide.

 

Ah, familiar territory and the tiny marks were intuitive as we toured the riverside trails and it was going swimmingly until the (Wong Wei) railway road chugged into view and the first sighting of the dread double dots.

 

And then it all kicked off Arry. A weird combination of Mad Max vehicles and figures, tricycles, motorized lawnmowers, mopeds and quad bikes came charging down the old railway line towards the bemused duo of ManPig and the Bird. Yes, Land Ho! were having a hoot in the woods, hereabouts and thereabouts.

 

Also having a 'hoot' was Coldtits on her usual nocturnal investigations en routey, listening for owls, spotting bats and mushrooms. Remember, a hash is many things to hashers and it's not all about cavorting around racking up Grand Prix points.

 

A casualty of the trail was Strap-On (which curiously reads backwards: No-Parts) who took a tumble and was later found to have fractured a metatarsal which will necessitate a few weeks off running. Beefy was sweeping the trail and was able to direct a limping Strap-On the quickest way back to base.

 

Another adventure was panning out farther back on the trail as Screwed and Bella somehow took the last long split and came across Roxanne - whether son Harry was with them is not clear as we encountered the little lad in the car park and he didn't seem to know where dear old dad was - answers on a postcard please.

 

Homeward bound we spotted the Land Ho! chariot tether in Parke and they shouted encouragement as we passed. Despite my unfortunate 'detour' I recorded 6.26 miles - about the same as those that did the official trail.

 

The Bell or the Dolphin? We preferred the Bell but as time was pressing, opted for the Dolphin and entering from the front, failed to spot the 'No Entry' sign and we were gently chided by the staff. After registering our life histories, there was just ninety seconds to get the drinks in but at least we got some beer, unlike the hare..

 

*No? Well...

**Land Ho! of course.

***Sadly still no trail shoes at the moment

****Loved that advert back in the day when a pizza carton landed on the table from on high.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

All in all, a most eventful evening, what with the overlapping trails; the howler of a mistake early trail by someone who should know better; the fall and injury of Strap-On - fortunately not too serious; the accidental foray onto the last long by Screwed and Bella and a rather well thought out trail by the hare which combined virgin urban sprawl with ideal hashing trail territory in the woods.

 

As you know, the usual closing thoughts are recognition and thanks for the work undertaken by our hare(s) on the night, but Beefy and Pisswell's efforts were exceptional. Planning, laying and sweeping were executed faultlessly and the sight of the hares entering and leaving the Dolphin without having the opportunity to at least have a drink was disappointing and no reward for their joint efforts. I'll get you a beer next week! ManPig and I waited for you in the car park, Beefy and we only just got in before the last orders at 9:15 pm. Never mind, we all knew how well you both had done - thank you from everyone Beefy and Pisswell.

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 with hope in our hearts to next Monday from the welcoming Park Inn at Kingskerswell with Hare: I-Poo'd.