WHAT DID YOU SEE? NOTHING. IT WAS DARK! by Man-Pig

Run #1885 Monday 11th October from the Rugglestone Inn with Beefy.

 

I am always a little doubtful about the wisdom of laying a trail on the high moor in winter. It is dark. There is little in the way of reference points to assess where you are, even more so when you are off road. Additionally, Garmin's and Strava's have their limitations when you are off road, especially if you have a rather antiquated Garmin Foretex 201. Hence, it was with a little anxiety that I jumped in (the wife's) car for the long trek up to the Rugglestone. The moor is surely a thing of beauty by day but, at night, it can become treacherous. Like most hashers, I also suffer from a little trepidation with the prospect of running alone in areas that I do not know well - particularly at night....and even when carrying two torches and a phone!

 

Despite the distance from Kingskerswell a very respectable number turned up for Beefy's trail from his new home in Widecombe. The Kingskerswell contingent alone comprised Hotlips, Zoot , Ali (who doesn't like beer) plus virgin, GM Shitfaced, Threesum and Man-Pig. Next door, OK, Abbotskerswell, attendees included Strap-On and wife. Even further afield we had the usual Teignmouth contingent of Georgie-Porgy, Piltdown and Smellie. The Penners were back in force, Wet-Johnny, Erection and "Two-Pies" Manopause who informs me that he was not the only one who scoffed two pasties at last week's On Down. However, the mini-penners were absent. No doubt October's exceptionally mild weather helped swell the numbers?

 

Zoot and Hotlips had brought a virgin which Shitfaced welcomed into the Circle in time-honoured fashion. There were no notices although Man-Pig had forgotten which pub we were running from next week. This was despite being the Hare. Beefy offered little in the way of instructions apart from advising that both the Longs and the Shorts would find themselves on the moor at some stage. There would also be a sweetie stop and an opportunity for a toilet break! Has TVH3 really aged to that extent already?

 

The first check was at the entrance to the car park. Despite the Bird having done his usual warming up exercises, which usually includes a sneaky pre-run check of the trail, he exited stage right only to find that he was not on trail (BB: deliberate loiter as I hadn't been reccying and wanted to avoid accusations later!). For some unknown reason the Pig wondered if we might be doing Beefy's June run but in reverse. Hence the Pig exited stage left and soon found himself on-trail as the FRB.

 

It was not long before he overrun an arrow that took us through Widecombe church cemetery. It must have been 15 years since we've been through here on the Hash; one of Poacher's I seem to recall. The thermometer on the car read 16.5 degrees when I left Kingskerswell. On reaching the Rugglestone the temperature had dropped to 9 degrees and there was a dampness in the air. The daytime warmth emanating from the stone pillars that supported the access gates to the churchyard was distinctly noticeable - just like mini radiators. That was the last warmth we'd enjoy till we returned to the pub.

 

Exiting the cemetery, an arrow directed us across the road and across the village green. Wet-Johnny out in front pursued by Big End, Ned and the Pig. But what of the Bird? Nothing. Our flightless friend had disappeared into the ether. We sped past the Old Inn towards Wooder Manor before arriving at the only Long/Short split on the trail. If Beefy's blurb was accurate, the Shorts would be doing 3.2 miles and the longs circa 6 miles and no opportunities for short cutting. My guess is that the Shorts retraced the last part of Beefy's June trail whilst the Longs continued to the footpath that eventually joins up with The Two Moors Way; a right turn here would have taken us onto Hamel Down and eventually to Grimspound for a re-run of Pisswell's run from Challacombe Farm. We would not be turning right.....too far!

 

The trail did, indeed lead up the long track to Kingshead. The last time that I had been up here was with a Devon A2B hash well over 10 years ago. I knew pretty much where it was going but it looked different somehow. Had the route of the track changed over the intervening period or was it the darkness? My earlier trepidation began to evaporate, even as we headed for the high moor. The marks weren't just good, they were excellent. Although Wet-Johnny was now some 200 yards ahead of us, Big-End and I had settled down to an even pace together. It looked as though I wouldn't be alone after all. Looking back from Kingshead, we caught a glimpse of a single hasher behind us. Was it the Bird? Was it Beefy sweeping the Longs? No. It proved to be Broadshit. The only other hasher on the Longs. Although we didn't find that out till we got back to the pub.

 

Past Kingshead, we found ourselves traversing a couple of fields that were only accessible by climbing over two high stiles. This was all familiar till we got to a 5 bar gate that took us onto the Two Moors Way. A huge arrow directed us left. Not much further we came across a cross laid in flour. We looked around and saw another large arrow pointing down a track in an almost reverse direction. We were on open moor now but after 500 yards we started a descent down a narrow but steep track with a stone wall to our left. This is definitely a track that I have never been on before. Ahead, we could hear Wet-Johnny calling quite regularly. Ned was just in front of us. We could follow him easily as he had something around his neck that looked like a blue glow-stick - but it flashed. At least we wouldn't lose the dog! This track proved to run past the back of Hatchwell Farm. It was a jolly long track, a little unstable underfoot and I was glad when we reached tarmac at Gamble Cot.

 

Only now that I'm working out the route from the ordnance survey map in front of me does the penny drop. We were now on the road that we would have taken to Pisswell's trail at Challacombe Farm. At Gable Cot a check had already been kicked out by ace FRB Wet-Johnny. So left it was, heading due south for the best part of a mile. I was convinced that we would have to turn right at some stage. However, referring to his GPS, Big-End reckoned it should be a left turn that we needed to take. The trail took us straight through Rowden Cross and to our left we could see a dim light. It didn't seem to be bobbing up and down so I didn't think it was a hasher....just a slow car with poor lights. I was wrong.

As we reached the next junction, we came to a check that had not been kicked out. However, we could hear Wet-Johnny calling "On-On" to our left. Big-End's sense of direction was correct and it had been Wet-Johnny's head torch I'd seen and mistaken for a slow car. We kicked out the check and turned left onto a small road that forms part of The Two Moors Way over Dunstone Down. From the top of Dunstone Down we could see the tower of Widecombe church - maybe a mile distant? Just as we started the steep descent towards Southcombe - a cross! What? We're almost home! An arrow to the right took us on a southerly track, bordered by a stone wall to our left. We followed the wall, and the abundance of marks, until we came to the hamlet of Higher Dunstone where the moor gives way to tarmac.

 

Maybe we'd become too accustomed to looking for blobs of white flour but, somehow, we clearly missed the enormous green illuminated arrow. No one had mentioned glowing arrows in the Circle. We knew where we were now. We didn't think we'd gone off trail. So, where was the sweetie and toilet stop? So close. Only a glowing arrow away.

 

We picked up the marks again as we turned left towards Lower Dunstone. At lower Dunstone four dots in a row swept us right and down towards Chittleford. A fast downhill and then an arrow left towards Venton. At last. The "OH" sign. Select a higher gear for the final canter back to the pub car park. In the final leg Big-End commented:

 

"We're really lucky to be able to go out onto the moor and do a 6 mile run. I'd rather have this than a posh flat in London".

 

"Yes. We are, indeed, fortunate to have all this on our doorstep".

 

Thank you MP and now the usual details plus the adventures of the Bird:

 

Roll call almost impossible to see in the dark but I've given it agogo:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, SM Ellie, Steph, Beefy, Pisswell, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Strap-On, Ann, 69, BroadS, Man-Pig, 3Sum, Satnav, Gaga4It, Slip on Me, BB, Forrest, Hotlips, Zoot, Ali, Archangel, Big End, Melon Picker plus virgin making 28 or perhaps 29 Rugglestonies.

 

THE BIRD CAPERS

With most of the week missed with injury, the Bird fretted, clucked and trilled as he pondered the wisdom of hashing up on the savage moor. However, the thought of staying in and wondering what the lads were doing was an even more bitter pill for the Bird to Swallow [Shirley as sic as a parrot].

Mindful that three strikes and you're out, the Bird decided for once to be sensible and not put himself about on the long. The trail shoes (yes, I had listened to Beefy) were taken out of storage, examined but ultimately discarded. The grip they afforded not able to offset further aggravating existing injuries. And so the drums sounded their familiar beat of 'Hoka Hokum' as the Bird headed for the moor amidst the splendour of the setting sun..

 

A knot of hashers were already in the car park, booking their chariot tether in case of congestion. Young 69 had dropped by, Forrest - with a large dressing on his shin after having a disagreement with a sheet of corrugated iron, BroadS on a risk it and go as a biscuit visit, were joined by Man-Pig sans his Men in Black cruiser - in for repair and the Grand Master himself to be sure Shirley.

 

Now listen carefully, I will only say this once: the ag-ed Bird has to warm up before every run nowadays and this night he informed the mini gathering that he was orf to limber up.

 

There are only two ways to go from the Ruggles - left back to Widecombe or right up the hill into the boondocks. It was the latter that was chosen and walking, stretching and limping the Bird gradually got going. Nary a mark was seen - to the Bird's relief - as he was not about to be tarred and feathered [sic you fools] by Beefy for advance reccying.

 

On the way back, Piltdown drew alongside and enquired if the Bird had run all the way from Maidencombe!?!! Down over the hill and there was a brand new X that Shirley was not there before. And there was a check just outside the car park - Beefy was late laying evidently.

 

The circle was already convened and all the details of the run were missed - but as I was not going to embark on the long it would not be a problem - the warm up had not gone well.

 

The ON ON was called and note thee well, the Bird loitered at the entrance as Man-Pig and Wet Johnny exitoed Widecombe side. Forrest's call of 'We'll follow Bluebird!' eliciting a furrowed brow from Beefy who quite rightly harboured doubts at what the Bird had been up to previously.

 

From mid-pack, the Bird slotted in behind Man-Pig as the climb to the crossroads unwound - calling MP back as he had missed marks over a stone stile. The pack clambered over as the Bird saluted and abandoned ship to set off to have a little road run on his lonesome.

 

At the junction by the Old Inn, most remarkably dots appeared going left and up into the hills. 'That's 'Andy, 'Arry, pop it in the oven!' mused the Bird and off he ambled adventure bound.

 

But what trail was I on? Long, short or walkers? If it was the long, I would Shirley incur the wrath of the FRB's and the hare! An arrow pointing skywards beckoned and what a hill of woe unfolded as the Bird struggled to the stars themselves. Nothing behind, no lights, no calls - no retribution yet.

 

A left turn onto the moor (and apparently there was a L/S spilt mark here?) and the dreaded off-road but the Bird had found a game to be played and play it he Shirley would, whatever the outcome.

The marks were deluxe de Beefy standard and even a slight deviation was punctuated by an arrow. Bravo Beefy! 

 

Lonely as a cloud did the bedraggled Bird wander over the starlit moor, ever guided by the wise hare's marks. The sharp downhill was the only 'downside' and the injured legs did not like it up 'em one bit.

And now Oh Dearly Beloved, we come to the heart of the matter and I may be able to give 'illumination' to those that missed the Green Arrow and SS (which I was unaware of).

 

Immediately hitting the concrete there was a blob by a low wall. Continuing straight down for fifty yards with NO marks - and an alarm bell went off in the Bird's tiny brain and he retraced his footsteps back. AHA! There were two more blobs close together which would have been hidden coming down.

It did look as though the trail went into someone's garage by all the parked cars but just off to the left, a lane opened up. Around the corner and the Bird stopped to gaze awestruck at the splendid green arrow - reflecting back the light from his head torch. The magpie Bird had never seen such a beautiful thing and even contemplated claiming it as a trophy - thinking it was a council direction sign for a concealed byway.

 

Fortunately for the Bird, the desire passed and he unfastened a gate and proceeded but... what was this, it led down to a house, this Shirley could not be right! But the marks were clear so it must be a strange right of way but the house owner Shirley could not be happy with all and sundry flitting past 24/7?

A window was open so turning off my head torch, I tip-toed past and legged it when clear - that was a close one!

 

Back on tarmac true and a couple of hundred yards later, another strange sight did assail mine eyes. A large band of walkers (Gaga4It, 3Sum, Satnav and Uncle Tom Cobley and all) led by the be-staffed Grand Master approached, going against the marks! What on earth was going on!!

 

The Bird babbled his close escape from the chateau of fear and warned the walkers to proceed with caution. They didn't seem that interested so I left them to the mercy of the chateau's owners, who Shirley would hear the large group passing.... It was only much later that I discovered it was the SS at Beefy's abode.. Whatamistakatomaka!!

 

Oh the glory of the flattish road but all too soon the OH appeared and it must have been the short trail I was on as barely half an hour had elapsed. I determined to get my money's worth and set off for another lap - and even more adventure as it turned out.

 

Turning off again onto the moor, a shout! Shirley that was Wet Johnny, but how was that possible? As I coursed across the moor, the shouts continued from a tangent above and to my right and were getting closer. I called back and on hitting the concrete legged it past the Green Arrow one more time and fled for the final mile, determined to hold the rampant Wet Johnny off. A quick chat with Archangel en routey and the OH passed for the second time. 

 

In the Heat of the Night (1967) the legs just about held up and triumphantly did the Bird enter the car park with an hour on the clock.

 

WJ, Man-Pig and Big End were not that far behind having covered a fair more distance on the long. BroadS had a similar experience to me with a solitary trek on the long with (I think) only trail sweeper Pisswell behind. I needed a beer after that..

 

ON DOWN AND DOWNDOWNS

 

Snug as bugs in a Rugglestone were the hash après trail and the Butcombe hit the spot. Forrest was the RA and the awards went thus:

 

FUKARWI and POLE DODGER (not Dancer as Forrest stated again!) had popped over for a pint and took the opportunity to thank the hash for their support of Pole Dodger's fund for his upcoming competition. A round of applause from the hash.

 

Forrest awarded the Cheeky Chimp hat to SHITFACED for 'Popping out'.

 

A DD for SLIP ON ME for her 'long p***er' hound.

 

Confusion never far away, in the absence of Beefy, Forrest given a DD as 'substitute hare'.

Right on cue, BEEFY appeared in the doorway and was awarded the Viking hat by 3Sum for the SS cum toilet stop at Beefy's 'Green Arrow' abode.

 

PISSWELL had the Homing Horse Head hat to award but was (thankfully for me!) too late to award.

 

POSTSCRIPT

The evening turned out a lot better than anticipated and yet another adventure to savour. The ground that Beefy covered was prodigious and notable for the excellent marking for which I was most grateful. It was well worth the journey, thanks Beefy.

 

ON ON to next week and the Park Inn at Kingskerswell with Man-Pig.