ETHEREAL, EERIE & A STEP BACK IN TIME

TVH3 The Words for 16th September 2024 

 

Beefy's, Widecombe-in-the-Moor 

 

Run No. 2041 Birthday Hash

 

HARE: Beefy

 

 

Who wuz there: Beefy, Man-Pig, Beeflicker, Peter, Forrest, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Threesum, Coldtits, Satnav, Roger the Dodger, Big End, Well Hopped, Ned, Psycho, Warm Front, Slip-on-Me, Fukarewe, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Pork Torpedo, Homie, Melon Picker & Soapy

 

Pre-Circle

Pre-circle it appeared that Fukarewe and Man-Pig were the only ones who had read Beefy's instructions for parking at his pad i.e. there's precious little parking at the Beefy residence so park in Widecombe and car share. Fukarewe and Man-Pig did just that but no other Hashers ventured into the car park.

"Oh well. It's only half a mile. We'll walk"

 

And so we did; only to be passed by Piltdown-Man & Georgy Porgy, Big End & Well Hopped and Strap-On & Strap Dancer - none of who stopped to offer us a lift. The list of candidates for tonight's Down-Downs had already commenced.

 

Circle

There is something special, almost magical about running at this time of year. The trail starts in daylight and finishes in pitch black. At the start of the Circle, the supermoon was just beginning to peep over the top of the hills surrounding Widecombe-in-the Moor. By the time Beefy had finished his brief, the whole moon was visible

 

Beefy had laid on food, beer and a scrummy home-made chocolate cake.

"Two pounds in the pot please for beer", a bargain!

There were Longs', Shorts' and Walkers' trails. The Shorts' and the Walkers' trail would have quite a lot of road. Not so the case with the Longs' trail.

 

Trail

To say that Beefy's house is on the edge of the moor would be an understatement. We exited out of Beefy's back gate straight onto the moor heading for Wind Tor where the Walkers would part company with both the Longs and the Shorts. 

 

The beauty of the moor is hard to put into words. Behind us the full(ish) moon was now clear of the hills, resplendent for all to see. Whilst in front of us was the spectacular red sky of the setting sun. We're truly blessed and we'd barely run 400 yards.

 

The Topiary Twins were FRB'ing with Beeflicker and a fit Wet-Johnny close behind. Then it was Man-Pig, Manopause and Fukarewe taking a more sedate pace followed by Big End and Well Hopped.

Heading northwest we crossed a small road that forms part of the Two Moors way and the first of the Long/Short splits. I think that this might be where we lost Manopause. Then it was downhill towards a disused quarry. 

 

This part of the trail reminded me a little of Beefy's St George's day trail, but on a reciprocal bearing. In the distance, I could just make out the Topiary Twins; it was already torch time. 

 

Another road crossing and another Long/Short split near Rowden Cross. The Longs carried straight over and and then down to a five-bar gate at the end of a track. Warmfront was incorrectly checking northwest whilst Psycho did no checking at all. A hapless Warmfront returned and, so, down the track it was and onto a road and another Long/Short split. I think that this is where we lost Fukarewe.

 

The sole FRB's now comprised Warmfront, Psycho, Beeflicker, Wet-Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped and a trailing Man-Pig who had stopped to get his torch out. 

 

The trail now went down a steep lane towards East Shallowford. Warmfront checked out the first public footpath to our left - BONG! wrong. The second public footpath to our left was more successful.

Here the public footpath follows the east bank of the West Webburn River. However, the ferns were so high that you only needed to be ten feet from the river (more of a brook really) and you wouldn't know it was there. A loose shoelace meant that I was now probably some fifty metres behind the FRB's....I wouldn't see them again until we were back at Beefy's.

 

The jungle warfare cadre continued until we eventually came to a tiny conurbation and a fishhook! No, it wasn't a fishhook, it was a mark for a tight right hand turn, almost coming back on yourself. 

 

Running between the old houses in the dark was like taking a step back in time....rather Dickensian, also somewhat calm and tranquil after a couple of very minor off trail excursions amongst the ferns.

 

There was also a sense of deja due. For some reason I thought of the Mill House that we'd passed on one of Pisswell's great trails from a couple of years ago. Unbeknown to me, until looking at the OS map whilst writing The Words, I was only a few feet from the Mill House at Jordan. 

 

Down some stone steps, over a planked footbridge and cross over to the west bank of the river. Sharp left, through a gate and into woodland. It was absolutely pitch black. 

 

By torchlight, the boughs of the trees made me think that I was in a haunted wood. I was sure that I would see torchlight of the FRB's but nothing.....no, wait, something. There was definitely torchlight ahead. A detour around a couple of fallen trees and I caught up with Coldtits.

 

"Have the FRB's come past you?"

"Yes. Ages ago".

How have I become so slow I pondered?

 

Pushing on. A pedestrian gate. More haunted woods, or should that be enchanting? Certainly, there was something about being out on my own in this environment that was both peaceful and challenging. I don't know why I thought there was anything challenging about the trail. It was excellently marked. It was a warm evening and the scenery, both by day and night was....well....intoxicating.

 

Out of the woods now and a short length of track. On the right were large granite flagstones. On the left tractor ruts on the broader part of the track. I definitely recognised this part of the trail but it had been daylight the last time that I'd been on it. A five bar gate, left and back on tarmac for the first time in ages. For some reason, the twightlight runs always seem longer than they really are. Maybe it's because in the summer you can see exactly where you are and where you're likely to be going. Whereas in the dark, your only sense of reference is the torch beam ahead of you. This was neither one nor the other. In fact, a little disorientating....but a pleasant change none the less.

 

"SS". Had the Germans invaded since the Circle? No. It was the sweetie stop. Half a dozen chocolate covered raisins later I was climbing the steep incline from Ponsworthy up to Lizwell. Torchlight ahead. It had to be a Hasher....and one with a dog. I recognise that silhouette. It's Perry. Soon I was in conversation with Forrest-Stump. The air was warm. Such a change from last week. Forrest commented on how lucky we were to live in this part of the world and what a spectacular trail it had been. I concurred.

 

Sometimes its good to run alone. No distractions and time to take in the beauty, both far and near and both imposed upon you within minutes at this time of year as the extensive views afforded atop Wind Tor reduce to a mere 25 foot torch beam in the woods that straddle the river. Another backmarker. We'd caught up with Peter. His shinsplints were playing up again.

 

The last Long/Short split to our right.

"I can't be arsed", I thought. Besides, I was enjoying the conversation with Forrest and catching up with the latest from the Edwards family.

In next to no time we were back at Beefy's.

I can't thank Beefy enough for this trail. Ethereal, tranquil, a step back in time and, when off trail, a tad eerie. So many emotions.....run! What run?

 

Down-Downs

This was likely to be Forest-Stump's last trail for a while as he is co-producing this year's Dunsford pantomime. "Oh no he isn't". Hence Forrest RA's.

 

The first order of service is to thank the Hare for a beautiful trail and for his hospitality. It is also his birthday on Wednesday when he will be laying the Devon Lunatics Hash trail. We have the Songmeister present so it is not all the right notes but, not necessarily, in the right order. it is: S.H.I..Y.T.R.A.I.L.

 

Fukarewe has the Jester's hat. Despite the plethora of culprits that overtook Fukarewe walking to the On-Down and failed to offer a lift, the hat goes to Psycho. Why? Because, on the way to Hash, Fukawe had to stop in a lay-by and have a look under his bonnet. Psycho simply glided past and waved. "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".

 

The Jester's Hat is the only award present. Slip-on-Me was wearing the Hashshit shirt but she's already gone home so are there any stories? Yes. Poor Forrest fell over on trail. However, he was helped to his feet by a Samaritan that goes by the name of Wet-Johnny. Now safely bipedal, Forrest waves Wet-Johnny on his way only to see him fall flat on his arse. Pork Torpedo strums up with, "You're stupid.You're stupid....and something about the proximity of cum and Mums.

 

What goes around comes around. For every taker there is also a giver. Fukarewe has already given the Jester's Hat away but he now finds himself back in the Circle. It transpires that he has pulled over to the side of the road because he has run out of petrol! "He's the meanest......."

 

Watching all this from afar is Pisswell. She is in Central Park, New York but not having a beer as the Americans have banned drinking in public spaces. The wonder of modern technology.

 

A fantastic evening Beefy. Thankyou for everything and enjoy your birthday.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is from Tottiford reservoir. Our Hare is Beeflicker and it is a fancy dress run.

 

On-On to next week. MP