TVH3 The Words for 20th May 2024

The Dartbridge Inn, Buckfast

Run No. 2021

 

Chocolate dipped strawberries galore!

 

HARES: Piltdown Man & Georgy Porgy

 

Who wuz there: Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Forrest-Stump, Man-Pig, Beefy, Smellie, Woodcock, Beeflicker, Squeaky Bum, Piddler, Slip-on-Me, U-Bend, Wet Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped, Roger the Dodger, Amy, Fukarewe, Strap-On, Arkangel, Warmfront, Psycho, Wetfart, Ablesemen, Satnav, Pork Torpedo & Horny.

 

Circle

For the second week running, no GM. There was an unreliable rumour that his absence was due to his involvement with a young lady? 

 

In his absence, U-Bend acted as GM....mainly to plug his trail for next week which is from The Manor Inn, Galmpton. U-Bend advises that there maybe a sense of deja vu regarding the trail. We will see.

The only announcement was from Smellie. Hares are required from July onwards and so over to the Hares.

 

Perhaps we shouldn't have listened to the guidance and just followed the marks. There was some information about a Long/Short split marked with three arrows depending on whether you preferred a Long short or a shorter Short. 

 

Sounds like a simple Long/Short split to me. 

 

There was also a Walkers' trail...I think. The Longs would only be about 4.5 and the Longer of the two Shorts about 4 miles. I never did hear how long the shorter Short was or how long the Walkers' trail was. Note to self: clean ears/buy hearing aid.

 

Trail

We were directed out of the car park on a heading for Ashbuton.

 

Sure enough, a check at the bottom of a public footpath (might have been a bridleway) had us on a long, steep, but broad, track. 

 

As the track levelled off, we arrived at the first of two VP's. This afforded us a beautiful view looking up towards Dartmoor and down into Buckfast where the top of the abbey's tower could just be seen above the foliage of surrounding trees.

 

At the end of the track, the Walkers took a right whilst the Longs and the Shorts went left on road. First down and then, after about 600 yards, up to a check just past Pridhamsleigh. 

 

The trail now took us right and along another public footpath. This was level to start with and then rose. The footpath ended just opposite a farm at Bulland and the marks now took us left, along a short length of road, and then right and onto another footpath. This was pretty leve,l and it wasn't long before we arrived at a fork with another footpath leading down to the right...a Long/Short split.

 

I was running with Smellie and attempting to catch up but a jolly painful toe meant that tonight it was slow going for me. Just before the L/S split, a dog caught me up. It was Perry. Forrest would not be far behind. 

 

My heart sank when Smellie decided to go Long. My toe was killing me. What should I do? Tough it out and go Long or be sensible and go Short. If I'd been really sensible I would have stayed in the pub. Foolishly I followed Smellie knowing that this was going to cause me a lot of pain.

 

The Longs continued past the L/S split for another 500 yards or so before joining tarmac and turning right towards Parkfield Cross and then right again and dropping towards a silo about 500 yards away.

This is where the Shorts would exit and rejoin the Longs. Although it was downhill, Smellie stole a good lead on me before slowing to a walk up the other side of the hill.

 

We passed Higher Penn farm on our left and then arrived at a tight right hand bend. A farm track lay dead ahead but the road to our right looked just as unused. 

 

We followed the marks and clambered over a steel gate and onto another footpath; this time running along the edge of a field. We were high (altitude - not skunkweed) and Smellie stopped to take in the glorious views of the rolling Devon hills. 

 

Sometimes it's good to stop, pause for a moment, forget the run and take in the views. Peaceful, calming, inspiring....all things all at once. I love it when the winter is behind us and we can leave our torches behind and run in the sunshine. In many respects, the Devon countryside is hard to beat, moor, coast and everything in between.

 

The footpath skirted the left hand side of two fields separated by another steel gate. This one opened easily and we didn't need to climb over it. 

 

The path took us into a wood and down a broad track with a steep drop to a stream on our left. No doubt that the stream would find its way into the Dart at some stage.

 

We arrived at a farmhouse but the marks took us straight on, eventually arriving at a T-junction onto a lane. No checks. The marks took us right. As the lane started to climb, it also deteriorated somewhat. What I had assumed to be part of the public highway basically turned into a track. What had once been part of Devon Highways (and still is according to Georgy Porgy's stanav) had decayed to ratshit - either by negligence or by design.

 

At the top of the alleged public highway, we arrived at the sweetie stop. Or, more accurately, Georgy's now famous summer speciality - chocolate dipped strawberries. So good that I had to have two....unlike some people......Smellie - three, well really? I suppose we were last and we didn't want them going to waste.

 

We were now at High Breara Farm. I knew exactly where we were. Despite Georgy's tempting offer of a sneaky lift back to the pub, we trotted past the farm whereupon an arrow had us tracking behind the farm. 

 

At a junction, we had a choice. Go left up and then across and down a public footpath to Austin's Bridge or carry straight on along the rather overgrown bridleway. 

 

We heard the rapid patter of footsteps and a female voice. Had we caught up with a tail ender? No, it was a young local girl being terribly helpful.

 

"They've all gone down there", pointing along the jungle warfare combat terrain that lay before us. As good as her word, the next thing we see is a blob of floor. The bridiepath it is then.

 

I "oohed" and "ouched" my way along slowly whilst Smellie melted into the distance. This was a long old track and I am certain that I've never been down here before. 

 

By the time the bridlepath entered woodland, the absence of daylight made the track almost entirely clear of vegetation. However, the absence of vegetation was replaced by a steepish descent down a rutted part of the bridle track that obviously doubles as an overflow channel when it rains. there was still a bit of a trickle in it now.

 

We passed a couple of what looked like quaint holiday cottages at Ware and followed the marks down onto the Buckfast to Totnes Road and the OH. 

 

Pretty much bang on 9pm. An hour and a half to cover four and a half painful miles. The pleasures of being a Hasher.....and well worth it. Thank you Piltdown.....and Georgy.

 

Down-Downs

The Pig, definitely not flying tonight, was the last back, hobbling badly; maybe gout, bunions, broken toe. Don't know. Just jolly painful. Why, oh why, did I do the Longs? 

 

Anyway, Forrest assumed RA'ing duties. First up was to thank Piltdown Man for the Down-Downs and a big "Thank you" was definitely deserved due to the staggering £5.30/pint for Timothy Taylor's Landlord bitter!

 

Squeaky Bum has the Union Jack stove pipe hat from a fortnight ago. Now, just how lazy can you be on a Hash? Certainly, there are many when, arriving at a check, just stand there waiting for someone else to do the checking out. Not so this evening. This very night ,one of our seasoned Hashers arrived at the check and really couldn't be bothered to check it out. However, rather than wait for a call of "On-On" from our athletic FRB's, he buttonholes a civilian out walking with his dog.

 

"Have you seen any white dots of flour whence you came?"

 

"Wot? Down there? Ooooh arrr. They be along there!"

 

"Thank you my good fellow" and our entrepreneurial Hasher bade the stranger a good evening and a welcome smile.

 

So who is tonight's silver tongued lethario/lazy git? It is Fukarewe, who else?

 

We have the Songmeister with us this evening so we have a, "He doesn't kiss the girls anymore. he likes them nice and hairy...."

 

Next up is Forrest with, or more accurately without, the titty apron. Forrest comes up with a story about falling over his dog lead but only after having been pushed by a fellow Hasher. Who is the dastardly deed doer? Piddler.

 

Our Songmeister gives us, "He's the meanest. He sucks a horses pe*is....."

 

"Are there any more stories?" There is one regarding a simple arithmetical error. I can't recall who the sneak was regarding this story. I think that it was either Georgy Porgy or Slip-on-Me. 

 

The basis of the story is that Forrest arrives at the sweetie stop with his mutt, Perry. Someone observes and comments as follows:

 

"Six legs is better than two".

 

Hmmmmm. I think that someone needs to go to Specsavers. But I'm fecked if I can remember who it was. The Songmeister comes up with a song. All that I can recall on this one was that I got all of the right words....but not necessarily in the right order.

 

The final half of liquid gold.

 

"Who has the Hashshit shirt?".

 

We think it's Manopause but neither he nor the shirt is here. Hence the last Down-Down goes to the hare for a fantastic trail with two marked VP's and stunning views across the Devon countryside throughout. 

 

Well done Piltdown Man. Once again, Pork Torpedo is called upon to lead us into the Down-Down song.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from The Manor Inn at Galmpton. Our Hare will be the lord of said manor, U-Bend. No doubt sweeping by mountain bike again.

 

On-On to next week. MP