TVH3 The Words for 17th April 2023

Red Rock Brewery, Humber: National NBC Alert

 

Run. No. 1965

 

HARES: Big End & Well Hopped

 

Who wuz there: Big End, Well Hopped, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Arkangel, Forrest Stump, Wood-Lend, Soapy, Melonpicker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Ernie, U-Bend, Wetfart, Bluebird, Wet Johnny, Fukarewe, Cold Tits, Broadsheet, Pollyfella, Threesum, Martin, Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & Satnav.

 

Circle

We are a myopic lot - us Hashers. Eyesight is obviously not our strongpoint. We don't see the clock ticking and find ourselves arriving late. We don't read the Words or the Facebook notifications properly and we end up going to the wrong venue. Perhaps our most recurring error is simply to follow the person in front? We don't look at the ground. We don't see the marks, and we all get off trail.

 

And so it was last night....and the trail hadn't even begun! We all drove down the drive to the Red Rock brewery tap house. We all saw cars, parked on tarmac, in front of the tap house and duly parked next to them. Only one solitary Hasher used his eyes. He saw the sign on the blackboard next to a five bar gate. The sign read, quite simply, "Parking". Setting off for the start of the trail we gazed lazily at the solitary, metallic blue, Honda Jazz; alone in a huge field. More alone than usual. This one had lost its best friend....its keys!

 

Shitfaced called the Circle to order. The first query was to Smellie re the Diary.

"No. I have no announcements. the diary is full up to the 12th June".

 

Next Shitfaced welcomed back returnee, Wetfart - but maybe he shouldn't have. Wetfart has been on nursemaid duties since his wife took a tumble down some steps. I understand that she is now well on the road to recovery. What had not recovered in the intervening two months was Wetfart's backside. Despite being outside, Wetfart's "silent but deadly" was still of room clearing quality. If this had happened post 23rd April everyone's phones would have pinged at the same time. A text message from Porton Down alerting of a NBC (Nuclear Biological Chemical) attack in the Humber area of South Devon.

 

Once the air had cleared, and those closest to the blast had been airlifted to hospital, Big End gave us the low down on the run. Rather, and more accurately, the "high ups" on the run.

"It will be all uphill; Walkers' 2.5 miles; Shorts' 3.5 miles; Longs' 7 miles. Stay out as long as possible as we don't yet know the half-life of Wetfart's SBD".

 

Verdafukdidweego?

Firstly, an apology. I usually do the Longs' and hence The Words tend to record only what happened on the Longs' trail. The names of the usual FRB's are repeated week in and week out. This means that those on the Shorts' and the Walkers' barely get a mention which is a pity. The remedy is simple, Bluebird and I can do the Shorts' and the Walkers' trails. 

 

A better solution would be for a Walker or Short to have a go at the Words. We all have different styles and it would make a welcome change to read someone else's take on the trail once in a while. Please - give it a go. You may just enjoy it!

 

The FRB's who didn't want to clock up the full 7 miles were encouraged to miss the first Long but commit to the second as the views were spectacular. If you weren't too tired, try the third Long but do not miss the second Long.

 

We cantered down the drive and turned right towards Lindridge Park and the first split; Walkers' to the left, Longs' and Shorts' trails to the right. This took the Longs and the Shorts through the tiny hamlet of Humber. I had been speaking with Melonpicker about the Chiefs dismal performance against Leicester Tigers the previous day. Hence I was at the back of the pack. As we passed through Humber on an uphill climb, I passed Smellie, Soapy, Pork Torpedo and Horny. This was to be the first of three times that this would happen over the next 6 miles or so.

 

I passed Piswell and caught up with Broadsheet and, returnee, Fukarewe. This was just before arrows had us bear right and down the lovely farm track that takes us down to the Elizabethan public house at Luton. Fukarewe was looking tanned and healthy as he had just returned from Portugal. Sixteen months of very intermittent running appeared to be a thing of the past as Fukarewe looked very comfortable in his stride. 

 

He would continue to look comfortable for the next 6.4 miles as he and Broadsheet bounded along 2 of the 3 longs that laid ahead of us. In fact, Fukarewe seemed so comfortable that it was a job to get past him!

 

Somewhere, way in front, were Beeflicker and Wood-Lend. I would not see them again till the bar. Just before the Elizabethan there was our first check. Polyfella was running back from the direction of the Elizabethan shouting, "False trail". I kicked it out only to find Wet-Johnny stopped in the middle of the track with a twig in his hand. Was he water divining I asked?

 

Apparently not but I never did find out what he was doing. The three of us carried on for a few yards, crossing a muddy puddle, before coming to the first Long/Short split.

 

The Longs went right and up the steep road towards Teignmouth golf course. The Shorts turned left and back, on road, towards the Elizabethan. The Longs was a simple loop that rejoined the Shorts at a T-junction bend just west of Luton. 

 

The trail then took both the Longs and the Shorts towards Ideford but, at a hairpin bend we arrived at the second Long/Short split. This was a cunning but jolly long loop. Little did we know that had we gone just 50 yards to our left we would have rejoined the Shorts. 

 

As it was, the Longs went right and up and up Rixafer Road. At this point, I could just see Wet Johnny and Polyfella in front. Over a mile of steepish incline, overtaking Smellie, Pork Torpedo and Horny for the second time. Just past Rixford Manor the last of the Long/Short splits. 

 

The Shorts went left for about 300 yards along the lower edge of Ideford Common before turning left and down a steep and furrowed track called Towerhill Lane. We have been down this track before, but a long, long time ago - maybe 15 years!

 

The Longs continued due north along a lane on open heathland before heading west and then north again onto Ideford Common proper. At this point I had caught up with Broadsheet and Fukarewe who were both going well. 

 

Across the flat common we could still see Wet-Johnny and Polyfella. We had almost reached Colley Lane and the Ashcombe activity centre before the trail went left and ran parallel with the A380 for about 400 yards. We could clearly hear the traffic on the dual carriageway probably some 200 yards to the north of us. 

 

An arrow then had us running down a wet and water eroded track back towards woodland and Rixford Manor. At least we were going downhill at last. The marks were good but broken flint sometimes deceived to look just like flour until one got quite close.

 

Some 200 yards short of Rixford Manor, two arrows, from different directions, confirmed that we had rejoined the Shorts at the top of Towerhill Lane. Shortly thereafter, the Hares had marked a viewpoint. We also noticed a load of timber that had been piled up in the corner of a field. We wondered if this was going to be a coronation beacon? Only time will tell. 

 

The descent down Towerhill Lane was tough going. It was deeply water eroded in its centre. I caught up with Forrest and re-ignited the conversation about Sunday's rugby....."Well, there's always next season".

 

Towerhill Lane took us back into Ideford, past the church. Here I caught up with Well Hopped and followed the trail through Ideford to Luton Cross. Here an arrow took us right and down a minor lane towards Colmansford Bridge. I was on my own again and I could see lights coming towards me, car or motorbike?, I queried to myself. Neither. It was just three young lads out on their electric mountain bikes. Just past Colmansford Bridge there is a turning to the left which I know leads back to the brewery. 

 

However, in the far distance, and on the other side of the valley, I could just make out a Hasher on a different road. It looked rather like Smellie. She must be off trail I thought. Bong. Wrong. At the junction, there was a check and it had been clearly kicked out straight on.

 

Sure enough, some 150 yards up this hill, an arrow had the pack going left and then sharp left on a minor track. It looked vaguely familiar, but from a long, long time ago. After perhaps 300 yards, the track rejoined the road that I knew led back to the brewery. Smellie was just in front and Pork Torpedo, Horny and Soapy were just in front of her.

 

Salvation, at long last - the OH sign.

 

I trotted, well staggered, through Humber where I caught up with the three legged demon duo of Dastardly and Muttley, otherwise known as Arkangel and Bluebird. Both Arkangel and Bluebird were sporting walking sticks. They had, nevertheless, completed the Shorts and clocked up 3.5 miles. Bluebird asked how har I'd been. Squinting at my antiquated Garmin divulged 6.84 miles.

 

"There you go Arkangel. I told you so. The runners are almost always only twice the speed of the Walkers" (Warmfront excepted).

 

By the time we reached the car park, it was getting decidedly dipsy. However, for the first time this year we had managed the entire trail unaided by torchlight. 

 

Finally, just as I had finished changing, Broadsheet and Fukarewe came trotting down the driveway - really looking quite refreshed. Hopefully, Fukarewe is now fully recovered and we should be seeing a lot more of him.

 

Down-Downs

Following the AGPU, we were treated to a new RA for the evening, Pork Torpedo. In time honoured fashion thanked the brewery for the beer. He additionally, thanked Jackie who seems to be perpetually coming out of retirement just to serve TVH3 a pie and a pint. Thank you Jackie.

 

First up was Smellie. She had brought a slightly damp Hashshit shirt back from its holiday in the Czech republic. Despite the miles travelled over the previous fortnight, she had not lost the shirt. As a result, Ladbrokes and Corals had made more money from Hashers betting on a lost shirt than they'd made on Saturday's Grand National. 

 

Smellie recounted stories of the Shirt's international adventures with the Prague Hash. This included a story about a domestic incident regarding the whereabouts of a wife's mobile phone. This involved several hours of backtracking train journeys and false accusations only to find that it had been in her pocket all the time (shades of the Idiot on the Fire Hash). 

 

It is good to know that hash stupidity is not confined to national borders. Obviously the shirt was not going to go to a hasher in the Czech republic. But it might just go to a Hasher who cleared the Circle with his SBD and then proceeded to blame Smellie. Step up Wetfart, and Pork Torpedo launches into, "He ought to be publicly pissed on......"

 

Next up was Beeflicker with the Turkish wedding hat and a story of lost property. Beeflicker had found a bunch of keys for a Honda. Now, Pork Torpedo would have welcomed this piece of information having become available some 40 minutes earlier. 

 

Master locksmith, Pork Torpedo, had just spent these 40 minutes skilfully breaking into a Hasher's car. However, Pork Torpedo was not nearly as thankful as Arkangel was to have been reunited with his keys.

 

The only other award present on the night was the Bacardi hat which Pork Torpedo was safeguarding. This he gave to Smellie who was merrily crossing a piece of private farmland in search of some non-existent marks. "Love me tender. Love me sweet. Wrap your lips etc etc....."

 

One last lonely half looking for a tummy plus a half of water. Were there any stories? Yes. Wetfart had one. This was a story about a posse of Hashers who had ground to a halt as they tried to figure out a route around an awesome puddle. Was it deep? We'll never know.

Whilst they were pondering wet and muddy trainers, Wetfart came around the corner only to tell them that they were off trail. The correct trail was nice and dry and some 15 yards behind them. The guilty parties - Martin and Threesum.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Lord Nelson Kingskerswell and NOT at the good ol' Park as mistakenly advised at the circle, . Our Hares for the evening are Shitfaced and, heavily reliant on his "friends".

 

On-On to next week.