CONQUERING MT DOOM, THE MUDSLIDE OF CERTAIN DEATH & WET JOHNNY THE GENT LENDS A HAND

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:

 

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙

𝙏𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙

𝙊𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 .. 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...

 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 while sales staff attend the stalls with refreshments (you Shirley will need them). A short feature might keep you entertained***:

 

𝗕𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗬 𝗪𝗢𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠

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 rottenführer. 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 rottenführer did desist but muttered 'I vill be back - in mein Panzer...'

 

'𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘, 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄!' 'Oh BB, thank goodness, I was having this strange dream, let's go home...'

And now,

 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

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:

 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 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.

****U2

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

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."