Run #2061 Monday 3rd February Circle up 7:15 pm from Newfoundland Way CP (by the Police station) Newton Abbot TQ12 1NG
Sunday, 2 February 2025
Wednesday, 29 January 2025
TVH3 The Words for 27th January 2025
(Early for a change - I'll try and get details posted sooner!)
The Bell Inn, Bovey Tracey
Run No. 2060 - "Cock Up Your Beaver" & the birthday boy dun good
HARES: Pocket Rocket & Poacher
Who
wuz there: Pocket Rocket, Poacher, Man-Pig, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown
Man, Smellie, Red Rum, Warmfront, Smash, Miss Mash, visitors from
AshHash, Grim & Not Mrs Grim and, finally, returnee lothario -
Forrest-Stump
Circle
The
weather was crap. So crap that only 11 Hashers were present at the
Circle. AshHash visitor, Not Mrs Grim, would be joining us in the pub
later but two key players were missing.....the Hares. Whilst Smellie
wrestled with her phone to find out where they were the errant duo duly
turned up.....wet.
Almost
no announcements. Shitfaced was absent as he was on good samaritan
duty in Bristol and Smellie needs a Hare for 27 February.
Trail
This
was to be Pocket Rocket's virgin lay as, the following day, was his
birthday. His mentor for the evening was Poacher; he of a thousand
lays. What could possibly go wrong? Perhaps Rabbie Burn's poem, Cock Up
Your Beaver was an apt description of the events that were about to
unfold?
In
a nutshell, the Longs ran around the woodland paths of Parke and then
over to Lustleigh and back.....we were not supposed to go to Lusteigh!
In fact, I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of our meanderings when no
marks were seen over a 2.07 mile stretch. I wonder if Poacher had
imparted one crucial piece of information to our virgin Hare - "do not
underestimate the dizzying heights of crass stupidity than can be
attained by the pack....frequently!"
And so it was that thirteen committed (Shirley an unintentional [sic]) Hashers sallied forth into the night.
From
the station car park it was straight across the road and into the park
with the River Bovey babbling away to our right. Warm Front led the
charge to the first and second checks. We crossed the A382/Monk's Road.
More checks; surely it is up and onto the dismantled railway - now
part of the Devon cycle network? No. It was across pasture, over Parke
Bridge, and into the woods to the NW of Parke.
The
Pig was on the lower path heading up towards Wilford Bridge, soon to
be overtaken by Warmfront. A pyrrhic victory as Warmfront suddenly
ground to a halt. A fishhook. The next seven Misérables had to backtrack
to Poacher.
Back
on trail and a check that took us onto the middle footpath heading
whence we came. A check, a view point (as useful as a chocolate
fireguard in the dark), another check and, you guessed it, yet another
check. Three checks within 30 yards of each other with all exits
blocked with a cross. What was our virgin Hare up to......or was this
Poacher's doing?
After
what seemed like five minutes of fruitless searching, with the pack
equally distributed with four at each check, we heard a call. It was
Poacher. He was calling us back along the path that we'd just run up.
We
retracde our footsteps on the lower path, once again heading north
west towards Wilford Bridge. Tonight's Hash was the one that is closest
to Burns' Night and Beefy was running with a cardboard caber and a
false red beard; the Hash's only tip towards Burns' Night this year.
Even the Pig was sans sporan....and sans hat as this had fallen out of
his pocket somewhere on trail.
At
Wilford Bridge we came to another, soggy and almost washed out check.
Beefy and the Pig went through the five bar gate to check out the road.
Beefy went uphill, the Pig went down towards the stone bridge over the
River Bovey...one dot and nothing. Then we heard Warmfront calling
"On". We looped back onto a woodland path over a wooden footbridge and
up some steps, under a railway arch and onto a check, confusion and a
Hare with a dying torch.
After
a lot of fruitless checking near Beefy's former residence Poacher
directed us up a narrow lane. This was the last we would see of Poacher
until we arrived back at the pub some one-and-a-half hours later.
Sure
enough, we found dots. Beefy was well ahead, replete with fake caber.
At the T-junction at Forder, the marks took us left and up, up and up
Hatherleigh Lane.
At
its crest, a crossroads of sorts. Herethe road bears sharp right.
Directly in front of us was a public footpath leading into Higher
Knowle Wood (virgin territory) and to our left a track. A junction like
this is an obvious place for a check. We searched in vain and found
not a hint of flour. That was until we ventured onto the footpath in
Higher Knowle Wood.
Just
the other side of the kissing gate, we came across an arrow in flour.
We were on.... or had we just been conned by the biggest false trail of
them all?
We
dutifully followed the direction of the arrow, but no marks. The tree
canopy had kept the tree trunks pretty dry and these moss covered
trunks were an ideal place to put a mark. But not a graded grain of
flour was to be seen. We backtracked to the only junction that we'd
passed and Warmfront checked it out for the second time. Still the
reflection of Homepride eluded us. We opted to follow the broadest
track through the wood.
The
Longs now comprised Man-Pig, Warmfront, Smellie and Pisswell. Poacher
was nowhere in sight and Beefy was way out in front and out of earshot.
Down,
down and deeper and down we went [sic]. Pisswell said that she thought
that we were headed for Lustleigh. Shirley not....too far out I
thought. The further we went the less we saw........well, as far as
flour was concerned. Still, we were ON. We had still followed that last
ARROW.
Meanwhile,
Beefy was, indeed well out in front and having no problem espying one
blob of flour after another. He was in front all right but not in front
of us!
We
passed through a gate that we thought marked the end of the woods but
no. We still had a a little way to go in woodland before arriving onto a
narrow lane and a staggered crossroads. The Pig was starting to head
towards Moretonhampstead before Pisswell called him back in the
opposite direction. It looked like we were at the edge of a village.
"Where are we?" I asked Pisswell.
"Lustleigh".
"Nuts!"
Pisswell
had us heading southwest along Lower Knowle Road. More virgin
territory for me. To our left were some lovely upmarket rural houses.
To our right, the River Bovey. Warmfront seemed to know where she was
and disappeared into the night.
On
and on we trundled. It was 9pm and a slow trundle was about as fast as
we could muster. Where the dismantled railway passes over the lane a
footpath sign marked access onto the SW cycle path. We diverted up and
onto the old railway. Lo and behold - a mark - hallelujah! We were back
on trail and 'only' two and a half miles from Bovey Tracey. I checked
my Strava...... a mere 2.07 miles since the last mark! We were running
late, jolly late. So we elected to bypass the car park and go straight
to The Bell.
3/4
mile along the railway line, three arrows instructed us up and onto
the higher path. I was sure that this would be a silly loop and that
we'd be dropping back onto the railway line shortly. But no. Another
arrow - through a gate and continue along the public footpath that
snakes its way through Southbrook Farm.
We had just crossed Monk's Road when Smellie's phone rang. It was Piltdown Man.
"Are you lost?"
"No. We're on trail and only half a mile away".
Poor
Piltdown Man had been waiting in his car for one-and-a-half hours.
Alas, the folly of trying to get the Longs, Shorts and the Walkers all
back to the pub at the same time.
We
took the wrong fork at a Y-junction on the footpath and ended up in a
newish housing estate. We arrived at cul-de-sac but Pisswell was sure
that we could get through and started ferreting around homeowners
garden. The security light came on and we suddenly decided that we were
all members of Dad's Army LDV (Look, Dive, Vanish). We found our way
onto St Mary's Road and were back on trail once more. We passed the
back of The Cromwell Arms and turned left up Fore Street. Bang on 9.30
we arrived at the On-Down.
Amazingly,
despite the atrocious weather earlier in the day, the gods had been
kind to us. It did not rain. We weren't cold and only our feet were wet.
However, we were all pretty thirsty.
Returnee thespian, Forrest Stump, has a tab running and buys us all a beer. That's what Hashing is all about.
Down-Downs
Despite
the hour and the 7 mile tab it was an excellent trail. A lot of
virgin territory, even if a lot of it was unplanned. So a big thankyou
to our virgin Hare, Pocket Rocket - the boy dun good. Another big
"Thankyou" to Poacher for coming all the way from the South Hams to lay a
trail in pretty poor weather conditions.
Piltdown Man arrives and Smellie buys him a pint for his patience. Eventually a smile returns to Piltdown's face.
Initially
we had planned to give the Down-Downs a miss. A combination of low
numbers and the fact that it now past 10 o'clock. However, Poacher would
have none of it. The virgin Hare and birthday boy deserved his
Down-Down. An unprecedented return to a full pint of beer (Cobra lager)
for Pocket Rocket as we cobbled together all the right notes - but not
necessarily in the right order.
Later
than anticipated but, perhaps happier than anticipated (or should that
be "just plain relieved to get back?'), we all wend our way home.
All's well that ends well.
Next week
Next week's Hash is from Newfoundland Road car park, Newton Abbot with Hare, Beeflicker.
On-On to next week, MP
Sunday, 26 January 2025
TVH3 The Words for 20th January 2025
Run #2059
The Park Inn, Kingskerswell
HARE: Shitfaced & friend (Man-Pig!)
Circle
A
good turn out again this week. There was one announcement that
membership is now due. £30 for the year (what a bargain!) to be paid by
the end of January. Weekly payers can carry on giving a pound to
Pisswell or Beeflicker.
That
concluded, over to the Hare (or is that Hares?) for tonight’s
briefing. A Walkers, a Shorts and a Longs, with two long/short splits.
No sweetie stop but there was a curly sausage for a fiver waiting for
those who wanted one back at the pub afterwards. Nice!
Trail
And with that we were off…. A couple of early checks slowed up the FRBs as we left Kingskerswell behind.
The
first L/S appeared at the base of the steep incline up past the
quarry. A few opted to take this route but the longs ploughed on
towards Newton Abbot, stopping briefly only to ensure that Poacher
wasn’t having a heart attack. Fortunately he wasn’t, so on we continued.
I
didn’t see Poacher again on trail so I was mighty pleased to see him
back at the OD when I eventually made it there! Slightly distracted by
what looked like the festive train of lights, but it actually turned
out to be a pack of Teignbridge Trotters. We missed a check taking us
up some steps into Milber. I called a happy ‘on, on’ to the Trotters,
but didn’t get much of a response.
Once
in Milber, we headed through a network of residential roads, but
always climbing upwards. This was going to be a toughie tonight I could
feel it. Man-Pig seemed to predict when we needed some helpful
guidance and appeared at various checks (there were a fair few of them)
to ensure we went the correct way.
We
hit the woods, and I said a fond farewell to Beefy, Wet Jonny and
Beeflicker as they flew off up over the uneven ground. Behind me, I was
aware of the torches and occasional chatter of Pisswell and Missin.
A
bit of a surprise check had us heading back into residential Milber
again but we soon found ourselves back in the woods and popping out in
familiar territory for me, on the ridge track at the top, heading
towards Coffinswell.
Somehow,
Beeflicker was in my view now so I caught him up and we ran this
section together. On arriving in Coffinswell, we carried on ahead and
then came across an arrow on our left at the bottom of a footpath. ‘Oh
dear,’ I said (or words to that effect) ‘I think we have missed a mark’.
So back we went, and up we went, and up we went some more. By this
time, Pisswell and Missin (who had clearly NOT missed the arrow left)
were long gone and we were climbing the lonely road together. Beeflicker
stepped it up a gear and soon it was just me again, although I could
hear Beeflicker’s reassuring calls and see his torch light up ahead.
At
the eventual top of a very long and steep climb, we went right on to a
footpath through a field. I could see Beeflicker, but who else was
there? It was the co-Hare Man-Pig on his way across the path to locate
the lid of his flour container. ‘Great trail!’ I called. This was
hashing at its finest.
Through
the field and down a very gnarly and slippery woodland footpath, I
came across the arrow I’d seen earlier, only this time it was correctly
marked on the right! ‘Hooray’, I thought. I was really glad I had gone
back.
By
now, my legs were beginning to tire. Having been ill for a number of
weeks, I hadn’t run more than about 5K, so this route was testing me.
But I pulled myself together and carried on through Coffinswell, past
the Linney Inn which looked very inviting.
Up
ahead, I could hear talking and see torch light. One was definitely
Beeflicker, but who were the others? I pushed on to catch them up, and
did so just as we reached another gnarly and slippery footpath, marked
on the right. It was Pisswell and Missin, with Beeflicker. It was nice
to see them again.
So
up we climbed, and then down we went until we emerged from the
footpath to the primary school. We knew we were nearly back then – just
a quick run along the main road before we were directed left, and then
saw the happy ‘OH’ mark.
Great trail and nice to be back in Kingskesrwell again after a bit of a break. Thank you Shitfaced and Man-Pig!
Down-Downs:
Fukarwe - for disturbing the peace with 70’s soft rock and lots of
yawning in his wagon. Threesum –for bragging about her imminent
Caribbean cruise. Man-Pig – for a brilliant trail, despite marking a VP
out in the dark. Pisswell & Poacher – for a near death experience
(Poacher) and I’m not sure what Pisswell’s was for?
Next week:
We’re at The Bell in Bovey Tracey, circling up in the Station Rd car
park with Pocket Rocket’s virgin lay (with help from Poacher).
ON ON to next week, Well Hopped x
Saturday, 18 January 2025
PARK INN AT KINGSKERSWELL
Run #2059 Monday 20th January circle up 7:15 pm from the Park Inn, 15 Coles Lane Kingskerswell TQ12 5BQ with Shitfaced & Friends.
TVH3 The Words for 13th January 2025
The Crown & Sceptre, St Marychurch
Run No. 2058 - "Gropers' trail"
HARE: Poacher
Who
wuz there: Poacher, Shitfaced, Man-Pig, Bluebird, Beefy, Pisswell,
Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Pocket Rocket, Only Here for the
Beer, Polyfella, Red Rum, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Archangel, Fukarewe,
Wet Johnny, Warmfront, Psycho, Roger the Dodger, Well Hopped, Satnav,
Coldtits, Miss'ing, Wetfart & Teapot
Circle
Twenty-seven!
A veritable threefold increase from last week's attendance. A
significant turnaround from the Christmas & New Year hiatus. It was
excellent to see so many turn up for our return to the Crown &
Sceptre.
There
was only one announcement. This was from Shitfaced and it concerned
the upcoming Awards' Night in early March. Voting forms and the ballot
box would be in the bar afterwards so get your votes in.....even though
Piltdown Man has yet to compile a summary of the previous 12 months'
Trails and Hares.
In
addition, Shitfaced announced that a couple of new categories would be
introduced, including Groomer of the Year and Best Sweetie/Refreshment
Stop of the Year. Scribe would be binned and Best Lay of the Year and
Hare of the Year would be combined - surely they are the same thing? Or
was it that Hare of the Year would be deemed to include Hasher of the
Year?
On
the subject of Scribe, I am perfectly happy to have the Award scrapped
and also happy to continue scribing. However, please do not think
that I am on a mission to monopolise The Words....certainly not. I
would strongly encourage you all to get involved in writing The Words.
Everyone has their particular style and it is interesting to read
others' accounts of the evening's events. Irrespective of whether the
Award for Scribe of the Year is binned or not, please don't be shy. Have
a go at doing The Words. Remember, variety is the spice of life.
Smellie put out a call for a hare for 6th February. Please see her if you want to lay this one.
So, over to Poacher for a briefing on his second trail of his January trilogy.
"There
are three Long/Short splits. It is technical". I think the latter was
a euphemism for running around in small circles and attempting to
climb up unfeasibly steep and slippery banks. We would soon find out.
Trail
The
first check was outside the pub car park and, inevitably, the bulk of
the pack stood immobile whilst Polyfella and others checked out the
various avenues. They didn't have to check far as there was another
check pretty much outside the front door of the pub. The Pig checked
down Petitor Road and quickly came across our third check in under 150
meters. Beeflicker had a fruitless check down Hartop Road whilst the
actual trail eventually continued down Petitor Road, past the golf club
and onto Petit Tor downs.
However,
not before a slight misunderstanding by Polyfella who repeatedly called
'ON BACK!' to a lone hasher who was gaily flitting down the road en
routey for the obvious destination of the woods. Once, twice and thrice
he called, each time more loudly. The hasher paid no heed. At the end of
Petitor road by the kissing gate, he turned and called 'ON ON'. Long
sigh. (I would be interested to know why you tried to call me back,
young Lochinvar,)
Soon
we came to the first Long/Short split. This was a small loop along a
dry and leafy, but very minor, track in the woods, skirting to the right
the summit of the notorious 'Heights of Abraham' climb up from Petitor
beach - stormed twice by TVH in years gone by. Not tonight, Josephine.
Back
on the main trail, we passed Petit Tor itself and skirted the eastern
edge of the golf course afore arriving at the second Long/Short split.
This was the "technical" bit. Off trail down a steep slope, over two
fallen trees whilst, all the time, attempting not to turn an ankle on
the numerous short lengths of fallen branch. Probably no more than 50
yards down the slope, we found ourselves coming back up an even steeper
slope. With every Hasher that made it to the top, the following Hasher
was presented with an even slipperier ascent.
Those at the back, Well
Hopped and Red Rum were on a tractionless incline and had to engage
"rear assist" which Fukarewe was only too pleased to administer.
Miss'ing avoided "rear assist" by adopting a Gandolph style staff
fashioned from a log. Smellie simply engaged rear and 'backtracked' in
order to avoid the precipitous incline. This resulted in her being last
back to the pub.
At
the top of the vertiginous obstacle, Poacher was giving everyone a
helping hand whilst being stabilised himself by Psycho. Eager to help
out, the Pig reached out to stabilise Psycho whist simultaneously
engaging rear. Oh what a to do! Eventually, all were safely back on a
main track and heading towards Easterfield Lane. Well, not quite all.
Smellie wasn't seen again until the On-Down.
Poacher
promised that Ha Ha's and Fish Hooks would slow down the FRB's but I
don't recall seeing either. Nonetheless, the trail took us along
Easterfield Lane and then to our final Long/Short split just inside
Wocky National Park which is partially a BMX track. The Longs followed
two edges of the park before crossing a couple of stiles and navigating a
short length of woodland before a diagonal traverse across the King
George V Recreation Ground.
The
dots guided us along St Marychurch Road and towards the On-Down.
Shirley we couldn't be returning to the pub already; only 1.95 miles?
But the more dots we found, the closer we got to the bar (so not all
bad). We cantered along the lower part of Hartop Road until we came
across the OH at its junction with Cambridge Road. Left at Park Road
and we were Home.
Short but undoubtedly adventurous. Nevertheless, Wet-Johnny, Beefy and Pisswell did another loop to get some miles in.
Down-Downs
On
entering the pub, a wonderful sight to behold. Teapot was already
ensconced with Wetfart. Teapot had had a quiet but very pleasant
Christmas and New Year which was good to hear. He was also delighted to
be back with the Hash and back at one of our favourite pubs.
The
pub itself is under new management and this was the first time that
they had encountered the Hash and the concept of Down-Downs and singing.
Fortunately, some things do not change and the pub's tradition of jazz
on the second Monday of each month continues. In the bar opposite, a
jazz band was playing and they were rather good. So good that Bluebird
and the Pig finished off the evening in the other bar, just catching
their last number.
We
waited for an interlude in the band's performance before proceeding
with the Down-Downs. We explained what we were about to do and both the
pub and the band were very accommodating.
So who has an Award and a story?
Satnav
is the first up. She has the Hashshit shirt. This she gives to Man-Pig
for opportunistic and uninvited groping on trail. In so doing robs
Psycho of her story. The Pig comes up with some feeble excuse along the
lines that he was now on a mission to secure this year's new award from
grooming. Hmmmmmmmm. Whilst the Pig gulps, Beefy pipes up with, "He
doesn't kiss the girls anymore. He likes them nice and hairy......."
Well,
the groping doesn't stop there. Roger the Dodger has the horned hat.
This he awards to Fukarewe for double groping. The second Long/Short
slope proved too challenging for some and the "rear assist" from
Fukarewe had now come back to haunt him. A note for the double groper.
There
was definitely a common thread running through the evening's awards
and it didn't stop with Fukarewe. Where there's a groper there will
also be the groped. Poacher awards the Checking Chicken hat to Red Rum
for commissioning "rear assist" from Fukarewe. Will it never end?
That
second Long was a bugger. Psycho has the Jester's hat. This goes to
Well Hopped for a litany of faults on trail, particularly the slippery
incline. On the downhill section of the Long's loop there was a refusal
at the first fence (4 points), poor traction control (lost time) and
general inability to select diff lock and hill ascent mode on a Poacher
trail (lost more time). No medals for Well Hopped this week.
Finally,
there is a Down-Down (but I don't think an Award) for Pisswell. This
is for unashamed canvassing, vote rigging and gerrymandering ahead of
the Awards' Night. A note for the infamous gerrymanderer, "Dame Shirley
Porter".
The
evening was finished off with the Hare providing pizza and chips for
the Hash. So, "Thankyou Poacher" for a challenging and entertaining
trail and, additionally, for the scoff.
Just before leaving, the landlady thanked us for coming and hoped that we would come again. I'm sure we will.
Next week
Next week's Hash is from The Park Inn, Kingskerswell with Shitfaced and Friends.
On-On to next week. MP.
Postscript
I
spent Saturday afternoon watching the Exeter Chiefs' match in the
Railway Inn. Part way through the match about 20 people turned up in
running gear and started watching the game and supping a couple of
pints. I had initially thought that they were cyclists until one
announced, "Runners. Five minute warning". This sounded rather Hash-like
so I buttonholed one of the runners.
"Which running group are you from?"
"We're
not runners. Just a group of friends from Shaldon. We decided we'd
start the year by being dropped off at Haytor and run back to Shaldon
via a couple of pubs. We've already had a beer in Bovey and our next
stop is Coombe Cellars".
This
sounds just like a Hash to me. I'm afraid that I didn't get his name
or the chance to discuss Hashing. Most of these guys were in their 40's
or 50's but with a couple of youngsters too. So, if any of you think
that you might know these folk, please make contact and invite them
along to TVH3. Remember, this year there's a Groomer's Award!
Post postscript BB
With
so many 'gropers' awards being dished out, there was a story that was
missed. Whilst attending the bar, I was joined by Coldtits who was
clutching a miniature urn - no quips please - in her tiny mitt. She
buttonholed the barman and asked if she could buy said urn. Quite
naturally, the barman was perplexed.
Patiently,
Coldtits explained that she had espied the urn in the ladies and seen a
price tag on the base, and she had thought it was, albeit on show in an
unlikely environment, for sale. It Shirley was not, replied the barman.
Oh well, thought Coldtits, it was worth a try.
Preparing
for a DD, I asked the barman if I could borrow the urn for a moment to
show the hashers. By now, the barman had grown suspicious of this tall
story (about seven inches tall in fact) and placed the object out of
reach behind the bar. Pity.
Didulikethat? No? Well please yourselves then.
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