.......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.
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