COURT FARM CORRAL SLUGFEST & FROM ICARUS TO PHOENIX

Run #1883 Monday 27th September from the Court Farm Inn with Alexis

 

His face deathly white and peaked

His forehead even sweat bestreaked

His eyes despairing hollows of madness

As sped off he into autumnal darkness

From plunging Icarus to born again phoenix

A sad story Shirley befitting Kleenex...

 

Fading eyes discerned the transit of a satellite amidst the carpet of stars overhead. Still and quiet was the night. So very peaceful.. the eyelids grew heavy, flickered and slowly closed..

Ah, to drift away into final and eternal sleep...

A bright white light enveloped the crumpled creature and the Afterlife reached out to envelop the Bird gently into its comforting arms...

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Beloved, I had told you that I didn't feel very well and a few of you did comment on the ghastly wan features of the brooding Bird..

 

I had even asked Piltdown to move his chariot in case of imminent flight [soon to be sic as a parrot] and enquired how long the short trail might be.

 

Oh Liability, thy name is Shirley Bird this fateful night.

 

But let us dwell not on the melancholy most mischievous mayhem and returneth to this much anticipated virgin lay and the upcoming slugfest between Shitfaced Fury and the Archangel Joshua who waited with clenched teeth for the hare to reveal their fate.

 

There now will be a short intermission as sales staff dispense bedpans, emergency foil blankets, soft drinks and ices to the long-suffering readership.. This is going to be a truly Tolstoyan epic..

 

Right you are, here we go again..

 

ROLL CALL

A solid turnout for our return to the Court Farm Inn (last hash from here on 21st October 2019 #1817)

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, SM Ellie, Wetfart, U Bend, Soapy, Able, Triple Jump, Julie, Carl, Swinger, Manopause, Wet Johnny, Erection, Roxanne, Piddler, Pisswell, Beefy, Man-Pig, Big End, Well Hopped, Roxanne, four mini penners, Muffin, Archangel, Mouldy, Zoot, Hotlips, Ali, Bird, Strap-On, Steph, Screwed & Bella, Coldtits, Forrest, giving another 39 Steps hashers true and with 3Sum at the On Down.

 

HOW LONG IS THE LONG?

A long of differing Strava lengths, spake the virgin hare, it could be six, seven or even eight miles... a frightful silence upon the circle fell as the Fury turned a Whiter Shade of Pale. Stoic and unmoved was the Archangel Joshua - he of unending stamina.

And so it began, and what a hash it was to be - on run number eighteen hundred and eighty three - I really do try and keep you all amused..

 

PART ONE: ICARUS DOTH SOAR

Cautiously did the Bird ascend Stoneman's Hill of woe on his journey to the sun - prepared to capitulate at the slightest sign of discomfort. Wet Johnny to the fore and the pitter patter of Beefy resuming station after taking the obligatory snaps of the climbing pack.

 

Down Stoneman's Hill and quite unexpectedly the lawnmower burst into strident life. Shirley it had been only a fuel blockage and now it was clear? A muttered curse by Beefy at the mile marker as his tech had failed to engage and then it was all systems agogo as the cemetery flashed by to port.

Beefy and the Bird came upon that Child of the Hash, Wet Johnny, by the check at St Mary's Church and merrily did we speed down the Church Path to the main road, taking a hard left and then right into Bradley Park.

 

WJ and Beefy orchestrated and stretched the rubber band to an ever-widening fifty yards or so and the Bird took a quick look over his shoulder to see if there were any other takers - Shirley the Man-Pig and Big End would be closing now? Yes, a light entering the park - GameBird On!

Reunited with the Turbo Boys as they took a pit stop and fortunate for the myopic one as marks could not be seen - even when WJ kindly pointed them out.

 

Crossing the Lemon and seeing the climb to Ogwell, the Bird bade a tearful goodbye to Beefy who merely replied 'Au revoir, L'Oiseau Bleu!' And remarkably, he was correct as the Bird just about maintained contact and the duo descended into East Ogwell and past the bombsite that was one of our former favourite watering holes - the now deceased and not so Jolly Sailor.

 

The indolent Bird was now locked into follow Beefy mode, but both ground to a halt as the marks had apparently petered out. It was here that things took a turn for the worse. Retracing our steps back into the village, Man-Pig lurched out of the darkness and spotted what I thought was an old arrow. Wisely ignoring my input, Beefy and MP veered left and quickly sighted marks on the right. 

 

However, convinced that Beefy and I had already come down that way (we Shirley had not), the Bird squawked loudly that it could not possibly be that way.. and an odd feeling of disorientation swept over his tiny bird-brain.

 

Reluctantly resuming and only a few yards adrift, it happened. A feeling that I could no longer stand upright and an overwhelming desire to get to my knees in case I fell. A swirling sensation and suddenly I was sitting down with my knees drawn up to my chin - awaiting what I felt was going to be my demise..

 

PART TWO: SLUGFEST

Meanwhile, back at the longs and there were precious few participants out there - perhaps disquieted by the prospect of a possible eight-miler. Carl and Swinger were making steady progress and some way in arrears was the slugfest grudge match with an observer cum referee alongside to record the saga for posterity.

 

Oh Yes, Screwed and Bella were witness to the legend in the making and even recorded footage at the five mile mark, coincidentally by the Two Mile Oak pub. Perky indeed looked the Fury and just a few yards back, the Archangel was playing a waiting game - Shirley the Fury would fall by the wayside soon.. How soon? Very sooon hopefully.. The big hitters who had waded in and taken the skinny odds on the Archangel doing the bizzo were now looking a bit anxious.

 

ICARUS continued:

Back by the wayside, the Bird slept, perchance to dream.. It had been nigh on ten minutes since Man-Pig had dolefully cried 'On-on Bluebird!?' and then around the corner Carl and Swinger appeared to come upon the dread sight of The Bird Who Fell to Earth (2021). His wings were scorched and smouldering Icarus-like and, for a brief moment they thought it was a corpse as Carl shone his head torch down.

 

Don't go into the light, don't go.. mused the hallucinating Bird. 'Are you okay Bluebird?' enquired Carl and the life force flowed once more as the Icarian Bird was helped to his shaky feet. 'I'm okay, I'm fine, just having a breather...'

 

And now, a return to minor insanity, I give you the rip-roaring rendition from your favourite roving reporter. Let's hear it for Man-Pig!

 

BLACK HAWK DOWN by Man-Pig

Late September is always an odd time of the year. It is a time for reflection on the Summer past and the bleak midwinter still to come. Looking back to the Spring we looked forward to the the extended daylight and making the most of Devon's best beer gardens in the evening. I always look forward to getting some motorcycle miles under my belt. I do not relish the inevitable and interminable gardening and the obligatory maintenance work that attaches to older properties. For all these are outdoor summer activities. I look back at over 25 years of hashing with TVH3 and I recall a time when there was a large variation in attendance between the summer and the winter months. However, in recent years, I rather get the impression that there is probably little change between the numbers in attendance throughout the year. This is a testament to the dedication of all you guys out there who turn up, week-in and week-out and make TVH3 such fun. And what fun we had this week with a fortnight's worth of awards to dish out. But what about the run?

 

What would virgin Hare Alexis have in store for us? Being slim and light-footed, would we get an ultra long Long? If so, how would last week's protagonists and this week's combatants fair? In fact, would Tyson Shitfaced and Joshua Arkangel even make it back to the pub before last orders?

 

Able Seaman apologised for Teapot's absence. He was self-isolating in advance of a hip operation. In Teapot's absence, Tyson Shitfaced called the hash to order. No virgins this week so straight over to virgin Hare Alexis for the low-down on the trail. "It is almost all road. There is a Walkers', Shorts' and Longs' trail; 2.5 miles, 3.5 miles and........" silence!!! What on earth were the Longs in for.......poor Tyson & Joshua?

 

This would be the first run of the year that would take place in almost total darkness. Hence, a trail comprising mainly road was actually quite a wise choice. Clear instructions to turn left as we exited the pub car park caused some confusion for those who did not know their left from their right and continued in a straight line up to the road. "Not that left. This left and onto the footpath".

 

The very short footpath took us into the centre of Abbotskerswell and at the first junction it was a steep uphill climb past Manor Farm. Beefy was back in photography mode to capture the groaning throng on the ascent. As the road towards The Priory began to level off we came to our first check at a staggered crossroads. Wet Johnny went right. Man-Pig straight on and Bluebird banked left and claimed the first "On-On" of the evening. After 300 yards (yes YARDS....post Brexit we're reverting to Imperial measurement....including PINTS....but they never went away!) an arrow directed us up a cul de sac and onto a footpath. I think that this may have been only the second time that we've run up this footpath since it was fenced-in a couple of years ago.

 

Exiting the field via a style we came to another check. Big End and Well-Hopped were tempted to check right and back towards Abbotskerswell. The FRB's, who comprised the usual suspects of Wet Johnny, Beefy and Bluebird had all gone left. I knew that there was another footpath 200 yards up the road that would take us to Decoy Country Park so I veered left too. At the style that accesses this footpath.....nothing. No arrow. No check and the sound of "On-On" from the FRB's who were heading towards Newton Abbot cemetery. Maybe the Hare's description of "....nearly all road" had not been espoused with forked tongue? Another footpath, this time down to Wolborough Barton, was passed and ignored until we came to the Walkers's split. The Walkers would peel off left, past a reservoir, and descend back down to Abbotskerswell. The rest of us were cemetery bound.....some more than others (see later).

 

At the cemetery the trail took us right towards Wolborough Church. I just caught a glimpse of Wet Johnny darting down the footpath that exits opposite the entrance to Bradley Barton. This was the last I'd see of Wet Johnny until our RV back at the pub.

 

The trail was well marked with a combination of arrows and dots - pretty closely spaced. Sure enough, on arriving at the Totnes Road, a Long/Short split kept the Shorts on road whilst the Longs descended into Bradley Barton and along the footpath that follows the River Lemon. Again, I just caught a glimpse of a head torch on the far side of Bradley Park, maybe 250 yards ahead of me? It later turned out to be Bluebird. That guiding light was soon extinguished as soon as the Bird embarked on the meandering trail along the Lemon; obscured by bends and trees there was no light to guide me. Nearly half a mile later we crossed the Lemon at the ford. It was at this point that there were lights to the left of me. Definitely hashers but where had they been? They were on the wrong side of the river. My guess was that it was Karl and Swinger just having completed an evening course on "How to resuscitate your Cock" delivered by the RSPCB.

 

A fast climb up the lane to East Ogwell. It would Shirley be left and back down to the Totnes Road near the cemetery? No! An arrow to the right and downhill to the semi derelict Jolly Sailor which had been destroyed by a fire earlier in the year. Another hash-friendly pub lost.....sigh. Lights! Not one but two. It was Bluebird and Beefy.

 

Initially all seemed well as we followed the marks up towards Stubbins Cross. Beefy was pulling away from me as usual. But where was the Bird? "On-On Bluebird" I cried but not a squawk of a response. Odd, I thought. We're fairly evenly paced. I called again but still nothing. I eventually got within hailing distance of Beefy, "We're Birdless". We concluded that the Bird had probably short-cutted back down to the cemetery.

 

We continued on-trail completely oblivious to the fate that had befallen our erstwhile friend. For, unbeknown to us, the Bird had taken a funny turn. As we ate up the miles the crashed Bird was lying in a hedgerow - barely conscious and hallucinating. "What is that yellow orb in the sky? Is it my Maker calling time on my all to brief tenure on this fragile planet?" Fortunately it was not. It was Karl's head torch. Karl and Swinger came upon the hapless Bird and helped him to his feet. Whereupon, after a few deep breaths, he manoeuvred himself for take-off. Very gingerly at first. A walk. A cantor. A jog. Airborne. The Bird flies again....thank goodness! Shepherded by Karl and Swinger the Bird made it safely back to base having completed all of the 6.73 mile Long.... a flight worthy of Amelia Erhardt.

Meanwhile, the carefree FRB's continued on oblivious. At Rydon Cross, a kicked-out check took us across Denbury Road and onto Rydon Farm. Man-Pig completely failed to notice the right angle bend and only stopped when he realised that he was in Rydon Farm's farmyard surrounded by agricultural machinery.....ooops (BB: I had to brake hard here).

 

Back on trail and an arrow at Dornafield Cross guided us towards Two Mile Oak. We could clearly see the pub car park illuminated in the distance. At Two Mile Oak Cross,v it was straight across the Totnes Road and a level run down Whiddon Road to Gulland Cross. The final check - kicked-out left. At Greatoak Cross an arrow pointed left and our steep descent into Abbotskerswell.

Beefy's Strava had kicked-in late, so he had to add an extra mile to the recorded total. Yes, a lot of road but well marked and fast....perhaps too fast for our octogenarian Bird? Some new road that I've never hashed on before. All-in-all an excellent virgin lay. And the best bit? We all missed the monsoon rains that started impacting TVH3's turf from midnight onwards. But what about Tyson & Joshua?

What indeed Man-Pig, and a timely reminder for a flurry of epilogues to put the readership out of their collective misery - if you're still here, you've done awfully well.

 

EPILOGUE: THE SLUGFEST

Back at the Court Farm Inn, a huddle of RA's deliberated when to launch the Downdowns, acutely aware that commencement was dependent on the return of Archangel and Shitfaced. ETA had been calculated at around five to ten - what to do and what a to-do? But then at around quarter past nine and well ahead of schedule, the slugfest boys were sighted in the car park - hurrah!

A few minutes later and the Heroes of The Trail (2021) entered the bar but what had happened out there in the rolling hills of the virgin hare's seven miler?

 

What we do know is that Shitfaced Fury was clutching a t-shirt bearing the legend: 'I CHALLENGED SHITFACED ON THE LONGS!' and 'AND LOST!' on the back.

 

What the savvy statisticians also know is that the virtually 100% road trail would have been most unsuitable - and indeed painful for Archangel (especially that downhill drop at the end!) and he would have preferred an off-roader 'mudfest' to give of his best. But don't let that detract in any way from the remarkable effort put in by Shitfaced in covering the seven miles and staying on his feet for an hour and threequarters.

Not a bad effort by Screwed and Bella either and great that she got some footage of the warriors en route.

 

Err, do I hear either slugfester calling for a rematch? SLUGFEST 2?

 

EPILOGUE: THE PHOENIX

A few faltering steps and it seemed it was not possible to continue and a fearsome thought that a Swing low, sweet chariot might be necessary to carry the Bird home.. Oh the shame of it, Shirley and the thought was banished.

 

The mantra 'Confidence is high' was mumbled for the next mile. Reassured by the following Carl and Swinger, I made my way home, aided further by the downhill drop into Abbotskerswell. From foolish Icarus who flew too close to the FRB's, to born again Flight of the Phoenix (1965), Shirley a tale with a moral lesson to have you reaching for the Kleenex... No? Well please yourselves then.

 

EPILOGUE: THE VIRGIN TRAIL

You will never hear me criticise a virgin trail as a first ever trail lay is usually stressful and confidence is needed to go out and lay [sic] yourself open to adverse comments from the beer-swilling rabble back in the pub.

 

The preparation and workload for the Court Farm Inn trail were truly awesome and I do not use the word lightly. Alexis reccied and ran the long on Thursday (66 mins 32 secs for 6.67M !) laid the full long trail (Strava 8M) on Monday and two more sorties for the short and walkers, filled in the gaps later and finally swept 3M on the hash! Whoa!

 

The trail was mainly road (my favoured terrain anyway) but took in Bakers Park and the scenic River Lemon stretch. Like Man-Pig, I've hashed around there many times but, in truth, never knew exactly where we were going (I know, what's strange about that!) and seeing the Two Mile Oak on the left hand side really surprised me. It was well marked and well-received by the regular hashers.

Just to think you were worried about laying a trail beforehand, Alexis! Very well done and thank you from all who went out on the evening. A shame you could not make it to the pub, you were missed!

 

TWO QUESTIONS

Just a couple of queries, what exactly happened to COLDTITS on the 'short' trail? Her Strava revealed 5.35 miles covered and on closer inspection, I saw that the extra couple of miles were due to a 'detour' to FORDE PARK! You kept very quiet about that, didn't you, Coldtits! A certain DD if anyone had spotted it. Quite an adventure and well done for retracing your footsteps and getting back on trail.

Also, I'm intrigued about the four mini-Penners. Did they do the long? I can vaguely (still not quite with it) recall Roxanne, drink in hand, going into the car park to see where they were.

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

A bumper edition as Mouldy (Hashit shirt), Forrest (Homing Horse Head) and Swinger (Checkin Chimp) all turned out with their awards from a fortnight ago. Man_Pig had the Viking hat and the Bird was sporting the Covid-secreted Bat Hat once more as his award from the Manor Inn. 

 

Man-Pig negotiated the halves and we were all set.

 

Swinger dropped the casual line: 'We found Bluebird in a hedge...' and got things off to a 'flyer' if you'll excuse the pun... After many a cruel jest, Bluebird got the Checkin' Chimp.

 

Mouldy's retribution was swift - CARL awarded the Hashit shirt for pulling said Bird out of the hedge.

Man-Pig jumped on the merry bandwagon and awarded SWINGER the Viking hat for aiding and abetting Carl.

 

Forrest had a throwback award for MAN-PIG and offered up his 2019 Trail of the Year shirt as well as the Horse Head hat (hurrah!) for always complaining about the award?! and for wearing white socks with brogues!!

 

Shitfaced pulled rank and stepped up to the oche to gleefully deliver his triumphant t-shirt and award a DD to ARCHANGEL.

 

Finally, Mouldy spotted an easy kill and summoned the owner of a blue bag forward to explain why he had left his head torch on - glowing through the bag... DD for STRAP-ON.. sigh.

 

And yes, I did have an award to deliver but was still in the Twilight Zone and incapable of the effort..

perhaps next week..

 

ON ON to next week and it's back to the RED ROCK brewery with Big End and Well Hopped.