MAYDAY! MAYDAY!

 .......well, not quite - but almost

TVH3 The Words for 7th August 2023

The Ness Car Park, Shaldon 

Run No. 1981

HARES: Dastardly & Muttley

Who wuz there: Bluebird, Man-Pig, U-Bend, Forrest-Stump, 

Perry, Tamsin (Miss Ing), Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, 

Smellie, Coldtits, Beefy, Pisswell, Fukarewe, Ernie, Piddler, 

Beeflicker, Melon-Picker, Soapy, Palmolive, Strap-On, 

Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose, Wetfart, 

Bobbiball, Pollyfella, Kermit, Horny, Big End, Well Hopped, 

Well Hopped's son, Roger the Dodger, Fallen Woman, Strap-Dancer, 

Twiggy, Pork Torpedo (pub only) and Andrew (Smellie's friend 

(pub only).

Prologue

What follows ladies and gentlemen, is a tale of woe, ambition, 

heroics, team play and, hopefully, I pray, reconciliation.

Read on for the full story for, tonight, this was no ordinary 

Teign Valley trail.

Circle

The original plan of a summer barbecue on the beach had 

been changed the previous week due to a 

forecast of non BBQ friendly weather. And so it was that 

30 or so Hasher's found themselves at the Ness car park 

waiting on the absent Hare. 

 

For a third week on the trot, U-Bend was the GM. 

Basically no announcements so over to Hare Raiser Smellie. 

Smellie needs Hares from the end of September onwards.

Over to the Hare. Not present. What can the co-Hare offer? 

Man-Pig admitted to only having been involved in setting 

the last three quarters of the trail. To the best of his 

knowledge, there was no Walkers' trail, no sweetie stop and 

he wasn't quite sure where the Long/Short split was or even 

if it had been marked. Yes, the Pig had been about as useful 

as a chocolate fireguard.

Miraculously, from almost nowhere, a dishevelled, but 

enthusiastic, Bird appeared. He was buzzing 

with excitement. This was going to be a good trail (for most). 

Perhaps a candidate for Best Lay of the Year? 

 

He brandished a pair of secateurs, shouting that he 

".....had come prepared for all eventualities". 

Once again the secateurs proved to be about as useful 

as the aforementioned chocolate fireguard.

Instructions were simple. "Follow me" as Bluebird gleefully 

hurdled towards the Smugglers' tunnel.

"Oh. By the way Man-Pig. Lay it as we go!"

And so we were off.

The Trail

Well, what had the Bird got in store for us this evening? 

What indeed? The one thing that we could all be reasonably 

assured of was that the trail would most certainly 

not be boring.

We have hashed Bluebird trails for many a year. Bluebird 

always does his best to keep us on our toes

and provide us with something out of the ordinary. 

But this usually comes at a cost. Namely, the trail 

is likely to be challenging.

This trail did not disappoint. In theory the trail was 

simple but definitely not straightforward.

 

In the absence of a dedicated Walkers' trail, the Walkers 

would have to do their own thing whilst the 

Longs and the Shorts sallied forth into the unknown.

The plan was for the Longs and the Shorts to turn right 

at the end of the Smugglers' tunnel and run 

along the beach; navigate the debris from two cliff falls

and make their way to the aptly named  Rock Flats

 At this point, we would ascend the cliffs to the Hidden 

Valley, the high point of Bluebird's birthday Hash back 

in May. 

 

Exiting the Hidden Valley, we would be back on 

the cliff path. Bluebird would take the Shorts right and 

continue along the cliff path, past the Ness Golf Club and 

back to the car park. 

 

Man-Pig would take the Longs on a 

4 mile loop of tracks and pathways down to 

Stoke-in-Teignhead, and then up Millen Lane to the trig 

point at the top of Commons Lane. 

 

From there it was all downhill back to the car park. 

Simples!. What could possibly go wrong?

Indeed all was well....initially. The trek across 

the boulder fields was painfully slow. This is a potential 

leg breaker and it has to be undertaken carefully, 

very carefully. The sandstone rock is embedded with sharp 

flint. Supporting one's bodyweight with your hands 

is an uncomfortable experience.

Bluebird led the pack whilst Man-Pig swept the rear with 

Melon-Picker for company. 

 

Traversing the boulder field with a canister of flour in one 

hand was a bit of a handicap. I hate crossing the boulder 

fields at the best of times. 

 

Part way across the first rockfall Melon-Picker spied 

a seal not 10m offshore...probably sniffing around the 

lobster pots. I actually didn't see it but 

spent some time scanning the calm waters awaiting its 

resurfacing like a miniature submarine - but it was not to be. 

 

The combination of flour canister and seal gazing meant that 

Melon-Picker and I arrived at the Rock Flats at 

least 10 minutes later than everyone else.

 

We had regularly looked behind us and had seen no back 

markers. We assumed that the back markers had, sensibly, 

bailed out and were making their way back to the pub.

It was bang on 8.30 when we arrived at the Rock Flats. 

 

Bluebird was elated.

"Well done. You've all made it. Are you the last?"

"Yes", I replied in all honesty.

Bluebird was beaming from ear-to-ear. 

 

He had thought, not unreasonably, that he had 

laid a corker of a trail and he was as pleased 

as Punch that everyone had made it safely across 

the rocks.

 

We ascended the cliffs in single file with the 

assistance of the ropes - some knotted so as to 

provide more grip. Safety first, only one

person was allowed on a roped section at a 

time. 

 

In truth, only the very last 15 feet or so 

truly required the aid of a rope. 

 

Ten minutes later we were all back on the 

cliff path atthe Long/Short split. 

Tamsin looked at her Garmin. The last mile 

had taken 49 minutes. 

 

I recalled having done this trail back in about 

2013 when my Garmin recorded an average 

speed of 1.4 MPH. 

No change over the intervening 9 years then!

Despite the time, a goodly number elected to 

do the Long. This comprised Beeficker, Beefy, 

Pisswell, Soapy, Palmolive, Fukarewe, Piddler,

Horny, U-Bend, Tamsin and the Pig. 

However, there must have been others on the 

Long before us as all of the checks had already 

been kicked out. I rather suspect that the FRB 

was probably Pollyfell.

 

At least we could now stretch our legs for the 

next 4 miles and enjoy a well earned pint in 

the Ferry Boat Inn. I looked at my watch. 

This part of the trail was hilly but potentially 

fast. I estimated ETA at the car park at 9.30 

and having a pint in my hand by 9.45.

Yes, it had been a technically and physically 

challenging trail in parts. Up to this point everything 

had been going swimmingly, and Bluebird could 

justifiably promote this trail as a candidate

for Best Lay of the Year.......well up to 9.23pm.

The last of the Longs' were almost at the bottom of 

Commons Lane. Only a half a mile to go and we'd 

be back at the cars.

 

I'd just finished laying the lastof the arrows. 

This was just in case there were any 

backmarkers that I didn't know about. Although 

this would be highly unlikely at 9.23pm. Then the 

phone rang and everything changed in an instant.

Catastrophe! Averted?

Who on earth is phoning me at this time? By the 

time that I wrestled the phone from my pocket 

it was silent. A missed call. I looked at the screen. 

 

Without my glasses is was rather blurred. 

Nevertheless, I could make out a name 

"Mary Sturgess - missed call". It was Coldtits.

 

This was not a social call at this 

time. My immediate thoughts were, 

"What's gone wrong?" I phoned her back

immediately.

"Hi Coldtits. It's Man-Pig. Where are you?"

"Hi Man-Pig" replied a positive sounding 

Coldtits. My anxiety eased fractionally.

 

At the other end of the line was a composed 

Coldtits. No hint of panic. A good start to the 

conversation.

"We're stuck at the last length of rope and

 can't get up. Ernie is on the Shorts'".

Jeeper's. They've crossed the two boulder 

fields! I was convinced there was no-one behind 

me.

"Who is "We"?" I enquired.

"Me, Georgy Porgy and Piltdown Man".

I was incredulous.

"OK. I'm 10 minutes away. I will come 

back for you now. We will do the best 

we can with torchlight from our phones".

And, with that, I retraced my steps up 

Commons Lane, across the A379 and 

back to Labrador Bay car park and the cliff 

path to the top of the Hidden Valley.

 

Only 100 yards short of the access to 

the Valley, my phone rings again. It is Coldtits. 

They have made it onto the cliff path. 

60 seconds later I am with 

them. Coldtits is fine. Piltdown Man 

is exhausted and Georgy Porgy appears 

OK but is having dizzy spells.

We make our way up to Labrador Bay

car park and Coldtits asks where my car is.

"In the Ness car park".

With hindsight, it might have been better 

for me to have stayed with the Longs all 

the way back to the 

Ness car park and jumped into my car

and made my way back to Labrador Bay. 

At least then I would 

have had torches and rope. Right now, all I 

had was a half empty container of flour!

I offered to run back and get my car but 

Coldtits said she'd phone for a taxi. 

Regrettably, no answer. 

 

So we commenced our way back to the Ness

on foot. First along the decidedly dangerous main

road and then onto the top of Common's Lane. 

 

My phone rings again. It's Smellie but I can't 

hear her. I try to phone back but no answer. 

I then borrow Coldtits' glasses and try phoning 

Bluebird. No luck. I try Forest. we're in luck...comms.

"Where are you?" Enquires Forest.

"The top of Commons Lane".

"Where's that?"

"Near Labrador Bay car park".

"Are the others with you?"

"Yes".

"Ernie, Pisswell and Beefy have gone out to look 

for you in their cars".

"How long ago did they leave?"

"They left the pub 2 minutes ago but I don't have

 Ernie's number".

"Great. I have time to run back to the top of 

Commons Lane and flag them down. Coldtits,

 Piltdown Man and Georgy Porgy are already 

on the Longs' trail, down Commons Lane. We will 

 pick them up en route".

By this time, I am at the top of Commons lane, 

for the fifth time today, I do not have long to 

wait before the cavalry arrives....relief. 

This is in the guise of a bright yellow former 

AA van followed by Ernie and his new Audi. 

I tell Pisswell and Beefy to follow 

Ernie down Commons Lane and we'll pick 

everyone up.

It is not long before everyone is safely recovered

and deposited back at the Ness car park. 

Forrest had thoughtfully collected overcoats from other 

Hashers in the pub and deposited them in Ernie's car lest 

exposure be an issue. Thankfully, they are not 

required. Piltdown is miffed by the overly difficult trail 

and doesn't want to go to the pub, although Smellie 

needs to be collected. Georgy is too tired to care. 

Coldtits just fancies a drink.

Smellie phones again. Working comms this time. 

I give her an update and say that we'll be at the pub in 

5 minutes. No time to change, we jump in Piltdown's 

car and get dropped off at the pub. It is 10.30. 

Last orders have been called and we are being shuffled 

out the door before we've even got in. It is 10.35 

and time for some very late Down-Downs.

Down-Downs

Many have already gone home. Pork Torpedo thrusts a 

plastic half pint of ale into the hands of Man-Pig, 

Piltdown-Man and Beefy. No explanations are required.

Man-Pig's Down-Down is for an overly ambitious trail 

and poor sweeping.

Piltdown Man's is for getting overly delayed on trail.

Beefy's is for being part of the rescue party.

Pork Torpedo sings us an apt song but, for the life of me, 

I can't remember what it was. Meanwhile, 

Bluebird catches it all on film for posterity.

That concluded a most eventful evening. Well, not quite. 

 

There is something called The Management of 

Expectation. It is a curious thing and basically centres 

upon different people's perception and 

interpretation of identical information. 

 

I do not know what went on in the pub. 

I rather suspect that there would, inevitably, 

have been some leg pulling of Bluebird 

regarding an overly ambitious and potentially 

dangerous trail. At the other end of the spectrum,

several Hashers will have welcomed the challenge 

and onsidered it an excellent trail. 

 

Certainly the photos of the Hashers clambering over 

the rockfalls reveal smiling faces of Hashers 

relishing the challenge.

Bluebird had put a lot of thought and effort into planning 

tonight's trail. Initially, as a Hash summer BBQ 

and subsequently "The Rockfall Challenge". 

 

Bluebird lays more than his fair share of trails 

and he is also the first port of call when Hares are thin 

on the ground or something comes up at the last moment 

that prevents the original Hare from laying their trail. 

 

Basically, we all have a lot to thank Bluebird for

over the years. 

 

Yes, the trail was challenging. Yes, part of the 

nature of the Hash is leg pulling. 

Additionally, all Hashers are expected to give as 

good as they get in the leg-pulling stakes.

Bluebird. You are an eccentric old coot, but we love 

you because of who you are, not in spite of who 

you are. 

 

We all welcome your speedy return. The nature of 

the Teign Valley Hash is what it is because of 

people like you. 

 

Whilst I would never knowingly put someone's 

life at risk, I equally do not want Hashes to 

become overly sanitised to the point of being 

bland. We already live in a cosseting and intrusive 

nanny state. 

 

Monday night is our opportunity to break free of the 

cotton wool cocoon and enjoy Devon's great outdoors.....

rockfalls and all.

We will all miss you. Speedy and safe return, my friend.

Epilogue & lessons learned

 

Well that was a close call. At one point, seemingly trapped 

between the north and south Rock Flats, 

Georgy Porgy was on the verge of calling the coast guard. 

 

Thankfully, Coldtits encouraged Georgy to push 

on over the second rockfall and the temporary respite 

of the roped climb to higher ground. At least there 

would be no exposure to the incoming spring tide. 

 

If the coastguard had been called, you can bet your bottom 

dollar that there would have been an enquiry into the 

activities of the Hash and it might not have stopped at 

just TVH3 being under the microscope.

This is not the time for finger pointing, blame or

 recrimination. However, it is a timely opportunity 

for some introspection.

Most us know what Bluebird trails are likely to

comprise. They are frequently challenging. 

 

Any outdoor activity has an element of danger 

associated with it. It is up to us, individually, to 

decide for ourselves if we want to expose ourselves

to these potential dangers. 

 

Some exposure is as a result of the trail itself. 

Other exposure, maybe entirely down to individual 

behaviour and how we tackle the terrain below our 

feet. 

 

If we are going to charge down rocky ravine at full pelt, 

we can expect to:

a) eventually fall over

b) get hurt when you do fall

We are all adults and responsible for our own 

safety and, collectively, the safety of our fellow 

Hashers.

 

I do not want the nature of the Hash to change and

I certainly do want any outside interference with 

the Hash - even though it is likely to be dressed up

 by some well intentioned do-gooders as "....

It's in your own best interests". 

 

I am sure that none of us want the Hash to run the 

risk of being sanitised to the point of being bland, 

dull and boring.

I have had a look at the photos posted on the 

TVH3 Facebook page on Tuesday. All I see is 

happy smiling faces atop the rockfalls. 

 

Accordingly, I think it would be a fair assumption 

that the majority of the Hashers thoroughly enjoyed 

last night's trail. 

 

Yes, the clambering over the rockfalls was, at times, 

challenging, tiring and painful. However, that didn't 

prevent at least a dozen Hashers committing to 4 

more miles on the Long at the Long/Short split.

There is a well known saying: You can please some 

of the people all of the time. You can please all of the 

people some of the time. 

However, you will not be able to please all of the 

people all of the time. 

 

And so it is with the Hash. We do our best to 

accommodate an age range of between 6 and 80+,

male and female, and all of differing abilities. 

 

With the best will in the world we will not get it 

right every time - or for everyone. 

 

Please accept this as a fact of life.

Last night's trail was a typical Bluebird trail. 

Exciting, interesting, different........just plain 

Bluebird really. 

 

However, the clamber across the rockfalls is 

always slow and time is always going to be a factor 

in undertaking a trail of this nature.

Man-Pig was supposed to be doing the sweeping 

of both the Longs and the Shorts along the beach. 

I was aware that I had passed some Hashers on 

the beach straight after the smugglers' tunnel. 

 

Several times I looked behind me but I could see 

no-one.

 

I believed that everyone behind me had turned back

and done their own thing. 

 

As it was, Melon-Picker and I were at least 10 minutes 

behind all those ahead of us by the time we reached the

roped ascent to the Hidden Valley. 

 

As far as I was concerned, I had no reason to believe that 

there was anyone behind us.

The timeline of events shows that our three stranded

Hashers arrived at the rope ascent atthe northern end of 

the Rock Flats approximately three quarters of an 

hour after the sweeping Hare. 

 

This was nearly an hour after 

the arrival of the FRB's. 

 

The single reason for this huge discrepancy was the 

nature of the terrain. The rockfalls make for jolly 

slow going. 

 

Yes, I am guilty of not having swept properly. 

Equally, unless there are at least 3 Hares 

 (and I can't remember the last 

time that TVH3 had a 3 Hare trail) 

it is not realistic to expect the 2 Hares to comprehensively 

marshal a trail where there is an hour's difference 

between the FRB's and the tail-enders over exactly 

the same course. 

 

In this respect, I think that a certain amount of 

introspection is required.

We are all getting older and slower. We no longer 

have any members of the Hash whose daily routine 

includes undertaking the assault course at Lympstone.

 

We must be aware of our own limitations. Many 

of us like to push ourselves on the Hash, including 

me. 

 

Nevertheless, it is an unfair burden to place on 

the Hares to expect them to cater for every eventuality. 

 

This includes marshalling a 3 hour hash when it 

should have taken two hours.

However, all is not doom and gloom. Far from it. 

There is most definitely a silver lining to all of this. 

The camaraderie and support of the Hash is excellent. 

Special thanks must go to:

Ernie: for running on ahead to raise the alarm at the 

pub and then to jump in his car and come back out 

to recover the stranded trio.

Forrest-Stump: for his forethought in ensuring that 

Ernie took with him warm coats; remember our

 stranded Hashers were dressed for the summer. 

 

These thanks are, additionally, extended to all those 

who volunteered their fleeces, jackets and coats to the cause.

Beefy and Pisswell: for coming to the rescue in their

AA van. Fortunately, no-one had broken down.....

just running a little slower than usual. 

Last night there were heroes and victims. There were 

no villains, other than time. 

 

Last night we had a lucky escape. The coastguard was 

not called out. 

 

May I respectfully ask that both Hashers and Hares 

reflect on the events of last night going forward?

Thank you.

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Sea Trout 

with Hares - Bobbiball and Man-Pig.

On-On to next week.