Run #1892 Monday 29th November
VENUE: The Village Inn, Highweek, Newton Abbot
HARES: Only Here for the Beer & Shitfaced
ROLL
CALL: Only Here for the Beer, Shitfaced, Bluebird (returnee), Melon
Picker, Forrest-Stump, Gaga-4-it, Ernie, Fallen Woman, Wet-Johnny,
Man-Pig, Piltdown-Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Strap-On, Able Semen,
Tamsin (needs a name), Beefy, Pisswell, Rambo, Zen, Big-End,
Well-Hopped, Satnav, Threesum, Wetfart, Pork Torpedo & Hornie.
IN ABSENTIA: Arkangel, Bobbiball, most Penners, Cheerio Beerio (building kitchen)
THE CIRCLE
Only
Here for the Beer was the named Hare for the evening's shenanigans.
What we didn't know was that he had a co-conspirator - Shitfaced -
recently recovered from a wrist injury (self-inflicted!). With these two
in charge what could possibly go wrong?
Shitfaced
engaged us with a rather long winded tale of how they set the trail or,
more accurately, how they failed to set the trail. "What do you do if
you see a Road Closed sign when setting the trail?". "Carry on", was
the obvious response. For we are on foot and road signs do not apply to
hashers... or do they? I guess this rather depends on whether or not
you're laying the trail by car or on foot.
Inevitably,
it proved to be the case that much of the trail had been laid with the
assistance of the internal combustion engine (in 10 years time the
scribe will be writing hydrogen fuel cell).
Yes,
Shitfaced and Only Here for the Beer came up against a Road Closed
sign. Despite the kindly advice of a helpful local, "The road really is
closed", Dick Dastardly and Muttley drove on before coming across a huge
gaping hole spanning the fill width of the carriageway. Worse still,
there was no room to turn around. "Drat and Double-drat". Hence a neck
wrenching half mile reverse back to the original road closed sign.
Unfortunately, the helpful local was still there. A sheepish smile from
Shitfaced towards the good samaritan. Now, if Only here for the Beer's
car was covered in astroturf everything would have been explained.
Anyway, the outcome of all this was that if you see a road closed sign, ignore it, but only if you're on foot.
There
was one Long/Short split. The Walkers' trail was completely separate
from that of the Longs and Shorts. Accordingly, if the Long trail proved
to be too short, just tack on the Walkers' trail at the end. This
seemed a tad confusing as the Hare had previously told us that the Longs
was six miles.......ho hum.
PART 1: MAN-PIG'S LONG
The
Longs and the Shorts turned left out of the pub car park and commenced a
rather long descent down Ringslade Road to the A382. At the new
roundabout, Beefy and Wet Johnny checked left towards the A38 while Big
End checked right back towards Newton Abbot. Although Beefy was calling,
passing traffic meant that we couldn't hear what he was calling.
Nevertheless, as he hadn't come back to the check we decided the he was
probably "On". A canter along the A382 took us up to Forches Cross and a
big arrow pointing right and onto Greycoat Lane.
At
the bottom of Greycoat Lane, the only Long/Short split, the Longs went
left towards Teigngrace whilst the Shorts took a right towards the old
Exeter Road. At this point, the pack was pretty spread out. Wet-Johnny
and Beefy were ahead and we couldn't hear any calling from them so they
were probably a loooooooong way in front of us. The Pig had been joined
by Tamsin and Big End (sans Ned) as we headed towards Teigngrace and the
obvious right turn over the railway and Stover canal.
Marks
took us right along the new cycle path. An obvious route would have
been to take us straight on and across the field to join the footpath
that runs along the banks of the Teign......but no marks. So it was down
the Templer Way following the marks to Teign Bridge.
Would
we be continuing down the Templer Way to Jetty Marsh road or would we
be heading back towards the A382 by the Vauxhall & MG garage? The
arrows don't lie and a big arrow pointed us right, along the old Exeter
Road, across the A382 and up Whitehill Road. Well, we had started with a
long downhill stretch on Ringslade Road so it was inevitable that we
would be finishing with a reciprocal uphill slog. And this is exactly
what we got from Whitehill Road.....uphill until we hit the pub!
Wet-Johnny
and Beefy were only just back at the pub and were looking perplexed.
"Only 3.5 miles. But Shitfaced had said it was a six miler". We
discussed the route. Wet-Johnny and Beefy had done exactly the same
route as ourselves and we had been "On trail" all the time. We couldn't
have gone Wong Wei!
Nevertheless,
Beefy and Wet-Johnny elected to tack-on the Walker's trail to make up
the mileage. Man-Pig, Tamsin and Big End elected to go for a pint of
beer instead.
Back
in the pub, the number of hashers seemed lower than expected. Sure, all
the Walkers were back and there would be some Longs still out on trail
but what about the Shorts?
The
only Short we'd seen was Zen whom we'd passed on the climb up Whitehill
Road. Where were the others? Later, quite a long time later, Smellie,
Strap-On, Ernie and Well-Hopped staggered through the front door of the
pub:
"Where have you been?" asked the Pig.
"On the Longs", replied Smellie.
"What? till now? It was only three and a half miles", retorted the Pig.
Incredulously,
Smellie queried, "Where have you been Man-Pig? The longs was five and a
half miles". Smellie was quite adamant about this.
Further
analysis of the trail revealed that a cunning plan had been conceived
by the Hares. "Why don't we put in a second long short split but don't
tell anybody? Put down dots the same distance from the junction in every
direction and let them find out for themselves? We won't even mark it
as check. The best bit is, those that do the longer trail will come back
to exactly the same place. They could be going round in circles for
ages!" A cunning plan indeed.
The
net result of Dumb and Dumber's efforts was that some Longs had a jolly
jape of circa 5.5 miles whilst the other Longs got away lightly with a
mere 3.5 miles. Fortunately, no-one was foolish enough to repeat the
loop or even retrace the outgoing trail back to the pub!
PART 2: THE BIRD'S LONG
Many
thanks MP for manning the ramparts, shades of Beau Geste (1966) (dead
legionnaires admittedly) but now, amidst screams of rage and pleas for
mercy, the Bird proudly presents the upcoming epic:
FIVE CAME HOME (based on the TV mini series 2017)
Certificate HHH*
All
day was the Bird in a state of High Anxiety (1977). After a yawning
chasm of six weeks, The Return of the Living Dead (1985) was nigh. BUT
would the plan actually work?
Oh
Yes, Dearly Beloved, it was Shirley showtime and there was a lot riding
on Antonio** from Papillon (1973). Failure would Shirley drive the Bird
back into his bunker for a considerable time - and that would include
all pre-christmas fixtures... I heard that hoorah!
It
started badly and got worse. Striding Wong Wei (after all of twenty
yards) towards the church, the Bird glanced back to see he was alone, whatamistakatomaka.
Skulking
back onto trail, the longs and shorts had long gone - game over so soon
Shirley? Grrrr. To compound his misery, it was quite a steep descent
that was more than tricky and the Bird gingerly proceeded at impulse
power only, shouting a curse to the skies..
A light ahead, a hasher walking a dog mayhap, but try as hard as he could, it proved impossible to get any closer.
But he was a tough old Bird and persevered. It became flatter and semi-trundle speed was applied.
'Nice
to see you back, BB' came the greeting as the walking dog combo was
passed, but I failed to identify the hasher, only learning later that it
was Well Hopped and Ned!
Poor
Well Hopped was also injured and unable to run after taking a tumble
from her bike and cracking a rib in her back. Very painful as I can
Shirley testify. Ned had a good walk though - Well Hopped appeared after
we had finished and changed seventy minutes later.
A
luridly lit roundabout loom-ed and hashers could be seen in the
distance giving the Bird a chance to dance. No need to check, just
follow.
Zen
appeared in the cross-hairs and the Bird closed with menace. A few
yards from triumph, Zen broke into a trot and the chance evaporated.
However, Zen eventually tired of the manoeuvre and ground to a halt to
admire the views and the Bird carved the first notch on his Lee-Enfield.
Veering
right at Forches Cross, three hashers: SM Ellie, Strap-On and Pisswell
were espied and a little further ahead was Ernie, he of the fastest milk
cart fame. A veritable mini hash pioneering gaily along - until the
manic loping Bird rudely interrupted their peaceful jaunt.
And
so it began. The Bird surging ahead with a curious loping gait on any
gradient (though unfortunately very few) and being rapidly reeled back
in on any downhill where the lope could not work.
The banter was convivial indeed and hey! the Bird was back in the Fray Bentos.
Approach a familiar railway crossing did the querulous quintet quest with only a slight delay actually undoing the latch.
It was here, Oh Dearly Bemused, that the diabolical devil dice duly dispensed disaster (Six Ha!).
He
who should never be named, spotted a flour scuff to the left and off we
merrily went. Another (dubious) mark beside a bridge reinforced the
opinion that we were Shirley on trail but...
Confidence
began to wane as the highway was reached with no further marks and we
turned to Ernie for advice and the way home as the black-attired Bird
crow flies.
Back we spurred like madmen and a half mile later arrived - back at the railway crossing... sigh.
The
Bird threw a tantrum and was loath to embark on another circuit, but
gently did they cajole him once more unto the crossing - or close the
wall up with our hashing dead.
The Groundhog Day (1993) was overwhelming as we came to that far side turn.
And there it was, as plain as plain could be, a crystal clear, ghastly white flour mark on the grass - indicating right.
Four
pairs of eyes glared accusingly at the Bird who immediately began to
wail - not with the guilt but with the realization that there was now
another two miles to get to the beer.
Singalong with me please to the Bryan Ferry classic:
Let's stick together, come on, come on, let's stick together
You know we made a vow to leave one another never
And they Shirley did not leave one another, collecting Rambo on the last climb back into Highweek.
The Famous Five who had endured, received a ticker-tape welcome as they triumphantly entered the pub car park.
I need a beer.
DOWNDOWNS IN THE HIGHWEEK INN
A
paucity of awards to dispense and only the Horse Head Hat on show but
never mind, thine RA Forrest weaved and waffled as the seated hash
scoffed their bangers and fries.
A sympathy award to the Bird - listed as a 'returnee' by MP, so long has he been away.
That
old chestnut 'parking' was cited as the misdemeanour and MP was in the
frame for revving and reversing his lady wife's 'Kensington canoe' in
and around the slanting chariot tether.
The
Song Master was given the nod and such was the delivery, MP choked and
had difficulty recovering his composure to down the Raven abv 3.8.
The heavily censored version of the song herewith:
'He's stupid, he's stupid,
He's really ****ing dumb,
If it wasn't for his mother,
He'd be a spot of c**e!'
Two
halves of Raven for the hares turned into an impromptu downdown
competition with Only Here false starting and having to top up his glass
which gave a slight advantage to the Grand Master to take the honour.
POSTSCRIPT
With
Dog End poorly, Only Here for the Beer called in Shitfaced to assist. I
was most relieved about the predominantly road trail and may not have
ventured out if advised it was rough cross-country terrain.
Yes,
it was mainly my mistaka that took our Band of Brothers on our
unadvertised long split. 'A hasher of your experience missing that..'
was Ernie's take as we sighted the clear mark second time around. But we
had a fun time out there and grateful was I for the company of
Strap-On, Ernie, Pisswell and SM Ellie.
Well done the hares!
* As
played by the late Gregory Sierra (see photo) who was Puerto Rican by
descent. A frightening chase scene ensues through the jungle, with
Antonio and Papillon pursued by Indian trackers with blowpipes. Antonio
does not run, he lopes but is still quicker than Papillon (Steve
McQueen) who runs conventionally. The scene left a lasting memory and
was recalled recently when I found myself unable to run after adductor
injury.
** HHH = Hasher health hazard
On-On
to next week and Manaton Village Hall; meet at the Church car park.
Hare Pisswell will arrange beer and scoff so no need to BYO.
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