Run #1777 Monday 14th January from the Dartmouth Inn, Totnes. Hare: Wet Johnny
Descending past Berry Pomeroy castle en routey for the Dartmouth Inn, a queue of vehicles materialised. Rounding a corner and the cause of the delay could be discerned. No! It could not be! But yes, it was! There at the head of the queue was a Panzerkampfwagen IV tank, resplendent in khaki livery. At the wheel was a snarling Bobbiball who was in uncompromising mood. Down the Totnes hill and over the cobbles of the Plains chugged the beast before turning for the council car park - but, there was a problem. Above the entry gantry was a height restriction board, probably designed for campers, large vans and.. tanks. Bobby's co pilot Wiggster jumped out and surveying the situation called back: 'You'll be okay Bobby, steady as she goes now..' Yes, it might have been doable but for the rangefinder on top of Bobby's Panzer. Five times did the stubborn Bobby edge forward until finally giving best, he reversed from the tank trap and nearly destroyed the vehicles behind. Defeated yes, but still a classic, I salute you!
But I witter on so back to the hash oh Dearly Bemused:
Ah, the Dartmouth Inn, always a popular watering hole for TVH and the roll call was recorded by Teapot as 38, including returnees John and Hannah, All the Way, Whisperer and our own warrior of the ages Rambo. There were also a few alcohol soaked hashers swaying at the circle - more of them later..
Ipplepen Clan Chief Wet Johnny explained the intricacies of his lay and manifold they were: Was it four or five L/S splits? A SS with spice laden cider to warm the cockles and guesstimated distances of 'less than six miles' for the long and fourish miles for the short trail. Marks laid on the right and three and ON ON!
To the sound of Teapot's horn (supported by a birdbrain) the pack dispersed, eager for the fray. The first L/S split appeared a mere hundred metres away. Onto the bridge we surged and to the first check which beckoned and lured the unwary. A goodly number of hashers took the bait and dropped down to the river bank before being called back - curses, foiled so soon. Rejoining the main body, we were unaware that Whisperer, a known FRB, had chosen correctly and had careered away, opening up a big lead. I don't think he would have heeded the old hash chestnut of 'It's not a race'.
The rest of the FRBs comprising Beefy and Poacher/Cider, Manpig, Woof Woof, All the Way, Manopause and the Bird Blue took up station. If only we had stayed on the river bank as lo and behold, we arrived upstream at the Brutus bridge. Down onto the banks of the Dart and towards the industrial estate we rushed and caught up with Manpig, who, most remarkably - given his intake of eight pints the day before* - was still operating, albeit on impulse power only. Manopause and Melon Picker were also inconvenienced by weekend alcohol consumption so were all living up to the hashing maxim 'Drinkers with a running problem'.
Staying to the fore on any hash trail means choosing right at checks - failure to guess correctly quickly shuffles you to the rear and the effort of catching up soon takes its toll, as serial checker Beefy will tell you. The breakaway Whisperer, still on a 'solo' at halfway, finally guessed wrong and was never sighted again, such was the error. Stout runners Will and SM Ellie had also veered off course and became detached from the pack.
Consistently choosing right were Woof Woof and All the Way who kept up a steady pace while chatting away to each other.
Poacher eventually got to the front but was hampered by his hound Cider who was having great difficulty keeping up with his master.
It did seem that we were always taking in hill after hill and Beefy's strava elevation profile shows how severe the ascent was before plunging us back down into the town.
The welcoming light from the back of Wet Johnny's chariot proved to be the SS and as the longs approached down the tarmac, the shorts appeared simultaneously from a track below. Sheer luck or trail triumph? I leave you, dear readers to make judgement though my vote would go to the second named. To keep the pack together, longs and shorts, demands great skill. And it wasn't a single occurrence, as well into the run we had encountered Coldtits, Erection and several other shorts.
From the SS, it was a swift return on flat tracks, open tarmac and the knee jarring descent back to the pub. The trail was enjoyed and praised by the hash. Nice one Wet Johnny!
On offer in the Dartmouth was Dartmoor Jail at a wallet-pleasing £2.50 a pint.
After the DDs, RAd by a still standing Manpig, the hash dispersed - except for the Ipplepenners who, as is their wont, adjourned to the nook in the corner to hold court and of course imbibe a few more bevvies. We were finally given our marching orders by the new barman who didn't really grasp what hashing was all about - perhaps next time..
The 1777th Awards on 14th Jan. were presented to the following Hashers at The Dartmouth Inn,Totnes......
WET JOHNNY: A well deserved DD after a great trail and that warm cider stop.
BOBBIBALL: (Hashit shirt) Now praying for forgiveness after almost demolishing the CP entrance barriers.
PIDDLER: (Substitute Checkin chicken hat) Standing accused of cutting Short again! raises his pinky finger in disgust !
PILTDOWN: (Horsey Horseface hat) With his Birthday DD, but will he drink it all?..."oh yes he will....!"
*Exeter Chiefs game and yes, they won which explains the celebration eight pints.
ON ON to next week and the Wild Goose at Combeinteignhead with Shitfaced.
Descending past Berry Pomeroy castle en routey for the Dartmouth Inn, a queue of vehicles materialised. Rounding a corner and the cause of the delay could be discerned. No! It could not be! But yes, it was! There at the head of the queue was a Panzerkampfwagen IV tank, resplendent in khaki livery. At the wheel was a snarling Bobbiball who was in uncompromising mood. Down the Totnes hill and over the cobbles of the Plains chugged the beast before turning for the council car park - but, there was a problem. Above the entry gantry was a height restriction board, probably designed for campers, large vans and.. tanks. Bobby's co pilot Wiggster jumped out and surveying the situation called back: 'You'll be okay Bobby, steady as she goes now..' Yes, it might have been doable but for the rangefinder on top of Bobby's Panzer. Five times did the stubborn Bobby edge forward until finally giving best, he reversed from the tank trap and nearly destroyed the vehicles behind. Defeated yes, but still a classic, I salute you!
But I witter on so back to the hash oh Dearly Bemused:
Ah, the Dartmouth Inn, always a popular watering hole for TVH and the roll call was recorded by Teapot as 38, including returnees John and Hannah, All the Way, Whisperer and our own warrior of the ages Rambo. There were also a few alcohol soaked hashers swaying at the circle - more of them later..
Ipplepen Clan Chief Wet Johnny explained the intricacies of his lay and manifold they were: Was it four or five L/S splits? A SS with spice laden cider to warm the cockles and guesstimated distances of 'less than six miles' for the long and fourish miles for the short trail. Marks laid on the right and three and ON ON!
To the sound of Teapot's horn (supported by a birdbrain) the pack dispersed, eager for the fray. The first L/S split appeared a mere hundred metres away. Onto the bridge we surged and to the first check which beckoned and lured the unwary. A goodly number of hashers took the bait and dropped down to the river bank before being called back - curses, foiled so soon. Rejoining the main body, we were unaware that Whisperer, a known FRB, had chosen correctly and had careered away, opening up a big lead. I don't think he would have heeded the old hash chestnut of 'It's not a race'.
The rest of the FRBs comprising Beefy and Poacher/Cider, Manpig, Woof Woof, All the Way, Manopause and the Bird Blue took up station. If only we had stayed on the river bank as lo and behold, we arrived upstream at the Brutus bridge. Down onto the banks of the Dart and towards the industrial estate we rushed and caught up with Manpig, who, most remarkably - given his intake of eight pints the day before* - was still operating, albeit on impulse power only. Manopause and Melon Picker were also inconvenienced by weekend alcohol consumption so were all living up to the hashing maxim 'Drinkers with a running problem'.
Staying to the fore on any hash trail means choosing right at checks - failure to guess correctly quickly shuffles you to the rear and the effort of catching up soon takes its toll, as serial checker Beefy will tell you. The breakaway Whisperer, still on a 'solo' at halfway, finally guessed wrong and was never sighted again, such was the error. Stout runners Will and SM Ellie had also veered off course and became detached from the pack.
Consistently choosing right were Woof Woof and All the Way who kept up a steady pace while chatting away to each other.
Poacher eventually got to the front but was hampered by his hound Cider who was having great difficulty keeping up with his master.
It did seem that we were always taking in hill after hill and Beefy's strava elevation profile shows how severe the ascent was before plunging us back down into the town.
The welcoming light from the back of Wet Johnny's chariot proved to be the SS and as the longs approached down the tarmac, the shorts appeared simultaneously from a track below. Sheer luck or trail triumph? I leave you, dear readers to make judgement though my vote would go to the second named. To keep the pack together, longs and shorts, demands great skill. And it wasn't a single occurrence, as well into the run we had encountered Coldtits, Erection and several other shorts.
From the SS, it was a swift return on flat tracks, open tarmac and the knee jarring descent back to the pub. The trail was enjoyed and praised by the hash. Nice one Wet Johnny!
On offer in the Dartmouth was Dartmoor Jail at a wallet-pleasing £2.50 a pint.
After the DDs, RAd by a still standing Manpig, the hash dispersed - except for the Ipplepenners who, as is their wont, adjourned to the nook in the corner to hold court and of course imbibe a few more bevvies. We were finally given our marching orders by the new barman who didn't really grasp what hashing was all about - perhaps next time..
The 1777th Awards on 14th Jan. were presented to the following Hashers at The Dartmouth Inn,Totnes......
WET JOHNNY: A well deserved DD after a great trail and that warm cider stop.
BOBBIBALL: (Hashit shirt) Now praying for forgiveness after almost demolishing the CP entrance barriers.
PIDDLER: (Substitute Checkin chicken hat) Standing accused of cutting Short again! raises his pinky finger in disgust !
PILTDOWN: (Horsey Horseface hat) With his Birthday DD, but will he drink it all?..."oh yes he will....!"
*Exeter Chiefs game and yes, they won which explains the celebration eight pints.
ON ON to next week and the Wild Goose at Combeinteignhead with Shitfaced.
