ANNUAL (almost) FIRE HASH TRAIL

On-Down at The Ferry Boat Inn, Shaldon

 

Run No. 1961

 

FIRE HARES: Bluebird & Man-Pig 

 

kindly assisted by Shitfaced & Beefy

 

Who wuz there: Bluebird, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Soapy, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Beefy, Pisswell, AA, a very fast young man (didn't see him in the pub afterwards - who was he?), Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Polyfella, Broadshit, U-Bend, Wet-Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Piddler, Warmfront, Psycho, two virgins brought by Pisswell & AA plus our very special guest of honour - Doris!

 

FIRE TRAIL by Man-Pig

You were promised a baptism of fire. Would it turn out to be a damp squib? Despite an unscheduled downpour just before the trail, initial plans sounded plausible. Traditional marks would be scarce as the essence of the trail was to follow the flames. Now that it had stopped raining, might it just work?

 

GM Shitfaced would light the first flare beside the third green. Beefy would follow the trail and collect the bamboo staves whilst the mini menagerie hares ran ahead setting the trail in fire.

 

Initially, all went according to plan. From our hilltop vantage point we could clearly see the first flare.This was followed by a snake of torchlight moving slowly towards us way down below or - not so slowly as it turned out. Time to light the second flare. This went well until a gust of wind blew it over. Four lost minutes trying to re-erect it for our now blind pack. Re-erected, hotfoot it to the next flare. Oh no! The Bird had lost his phone.

 

Another two minutes lost retracing our steps only to find that it was in the Bird's pocket all the time. The delay meant that the FRB's comprising Beeflicker, Warmfront, Psycho, Wet-Johnny and Broadshit were upon us before we'd even got it lit.

 

A Long/Short split had the Longs going downhill whilst a handful of shorts ending up chasing the Hares towards Labrador Bay car park.

 

The Pig proceeded just past the car park and managed to get his flare lit just before the arrival of the FRB's. FRB's? They had planned to follow a long loop on the lower coastal footpath. A schoolboy error by the Hares meant that we had forgotten to mark a Long/Short split for the Longs' to do the lower loop. This was compounded by the Bird who chose to light his flare below a convex escarpment. The net result was that the Longs' didn't see it and missed out on the loop.

 

However, by the time the Shorts' had arrived, the Bird's flare was well away and a just discernible glow had the Shorts' on the Longs' trail and vice versa. You could not have made this up.

 

The balance of the trail was designed to be flameless and normal marks were resumed. Bluebird had set a loop down Deane Lane towards Stokeinteignhead and then back up Millen Lane. This had been laid in cat litter. The balance of the trail was simple but had yet to be laid. That is why a perplexed pack saw the Pig running towards them with a bag of flour shouting "Keep going!"

 

The final part of the return trail was a live lay as the Pig laid the trail from the junction of Millen lane with Butterfly Lane and back to the Ness car park. With the speed of Beeflicker, Warmfront, Psycho and the anonymous young man, it was a job to stay in front and out of sight....only just made it back into the Ness car park about three minutes ahead of them.

 

You could have done no more, MP. And now, the author of the doomed undertaking presents his testimony to the jury.

 

GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!

by BB

 

The Fire Hares were in position and all fired-up as they scanned the vista of shimmering lights from high above Shaldon and Teignmouth.

 

It had been planned meticulously, on the scale of a vital military operation. Fire chain points had been identified; timing logistics had been memorized; flares had been tested; equipment checked and rechecked - nothing, seemingly, had been left to chance. 

 

Operation Great Balls of Fire Shirley could not go Pete Tong...

 

A tiny trail of head torches were spotted wending their way along the path through the golf course. Abruptly, and under instruction from the Grand Master, the lights were extinguished as the massed ranks of the entire hash, in total darkness, made their way to a spot beside the third green.

 

The flare was soaked in white spirit and ready to be inserted into the bamboo shaft.

A spot of orange flickered into life and became larger as the primary flare was ignited. 'We're on!' shouted Man-Pig and the answering flare was ignited. A succession of headtorches illuminated as the hash got underway.

 

The flare had ignited immediately and rapidly become a billowing rage of flame but, and it was an almighty but, on the exposed headland, a fierce gust lifted the flare from the shaft and blew it onto the ground! No-o-o-o!

 

A game of chopstick phooey ensued as the Bird tried to lift the blazing rag back into place between two bamboo sticks. It worked and the shell-shocked duo fled to the kissing gate on the main road en route for Labrador bends.

 

It got worse. The befuddled and badly-shaken Bird shouted 'I've dropped my phone!' and ran back to the flare. Man-Pig, sans white spirit propellant, had to pause. A full minute later, the witless twit discovered the phone in his back pocket and back he went to rejoin MP. Precious time had been lost and the domino-effect was underway.

 

It was now Shirley a case of out of the frying pan into the fire as the longs had made relentless progress up the slopes of Mt Doom and were closing fast with the hapless fire hares.

Barely had the third flare point been reached when headtorches appeared at the top of the path. It was Beeflicker who proclaimed he had brought some buddies along as a clearly agitated Bird struggled to ignite the third flare.

 

With the longs despatched down the lower cliff path, the fire hares made their way up the inland cutaway path to head them off at the summit. 

 

It was no good, the game was Shirley up and the aged and unfit (for purpose) Bird collapsed in a near lifeless heap to the sodden turf. 'Wait MP, come back!' gasped the expiring leader of the ill-fated expedition. 'I'll prime the flare and you go on.'

 

Undismayed at the catastrophic turn of events, Man-Pig valiantly set off to salvage the evening.

 

Lurching around the bend, an awful sight unfolded. The rampant longs, including Warmfront, Wet Johnny, Psycho, Beeflicker, BroadS and other assorted rapidoes were gathered, vulture-like around Man-Pig as he prepared to ignite number four flare.

 

Mindful of the strongly gusting wind, the flare was positioned by the hedge but, unfortunately not in the proposed line of sight point for number five flare immediately beside Labrador Bay car park.

 

Plans A, B and C had long since been scrapped, and the Bird, without pausing, plunged down the valley below the car park to get in position for number six flare.

 

A few minutes elapsed before the awful realization dawned. There was no direct line of sight from the bottom of the valley to see number five flare from the summit. Whatamistakatomaka!

Another trail of lights appeared on the skyline - the shorts! The by now delirious Bird, losing all semblance of reason, lit number six flare!

 

'To me! To me! On down!' screeched the demented One. The trail of lights halted, and then slowly descended towards the wildly waving, blazing apparition.

 

And so it came to pass that the shorts were sent onto the long trail and the longs, who had long departed [Shirley sic] proceeded gaily along the short trail.

 

As Man-Pig stated, 'You couldn't make it up.'

 

The Bird had now burned himself out. Staggering with bursting lungs up the steep valley and the haven of his tethered chariot, he slowly turned to watch the snail-like progress of the unfortunate shorts as they ascended the alpine turns of the lower path.

 

Fearing retribution, the Bird drove down to the Deane Road T- junction to find out whether any shorts required a lift up to Commons lane. Beefy advised that Coldtits was approaching and that all others seemed to have continued on the long trail down Deane Road.

 

Driving up Commons, the chariot faltered and stalled. Try as he might, first gear could not be engaged by an exasperated Bird and the occupants were on the point of getting out and giving it a push when first was finally crashed into place. The domino effect was still ongoing.

 

I don't know how he managed it, but Man-Pig, still obeying instructions - flawed or otherwise - to the letter, had managed to stay ahead of the longs and put the final arrows down Commons in place. Give that man a cheer and a beer! 

 

Manopause and Erection emerged from Better Flee lane (true name) and seemed oblivious to the calamity that had unfolded. It was with great relief that the Bird turned for home. I need a beer as well.

 

DOWN-DOWNS

Despite the hiccups, post run banter and chat in the pub seemed to confirm that Hashers had enjoyed the trail - even if the Longs and the Shorts had been inadvertently transposed.

 

Polyfella gave the Jester's hat to Bluebird for dropping his container of cheese sandwiches on the floor, retrieving same but only after Ned had been salivating over them....although Piltdown man said that he quite liked them (pre saliva!). A note for "Pavlov's Dog".

 

Bluebird had the Hashshit shirt. This he gave to Man-Pig. I think for being foolish enough to follow his instructions to the letter. "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".

 

A new award, The Barcardi Hat. The origins of this hat was that it was won in a pub quiz for winning the special interest round. The nature of this special interest round? Postage stamps. The Hat and down-down went to Smellie even though she was totally innocent of encyclopedic knowledge of British regional postage stamps. A note for "the philatelist".

 

And finally, a down-down for our very special guest of honour, Doris.

 

Thanks to Piltdown Man and Georgie Porgy for bringing her out and, additionally, thanks to Max & owner Matt for providing the Down-Downs.

 

POSTSCRIPT

Almost everything that could go wrong did go wrong and it was only down to Man-Pig that the trail was salvaged. Valuable lessons have been learnt and next year, God willing, Man-Pig and I will show you how a Fire hash should be conducted. Thank you, one and all, for turning up and having a go. The virgins and the rest of the shorts must be congratulated at completing the long trail. On on to Fire Hash #10!

 

NEXT WEEK

Next week's Hash is at The Star, Liverton with Beeflicker Haring.

 

 

On-On to next week!