SANITY & INSANITY AT THE RED ROCK (BABY) RANCH HOUSE

Run #1884 Monday 4th October from the Red Rock Brewery with Well Hopped & Big End

 

Roll call:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, SM Ellie, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Swinger, virgin Matt, Hotlips, Zoot, Paul, virgin Jenny, Coldtits, Rambo, Kelvin, Man-Pig, Ali, 3Sum, Satnav, Strap-On, Big End, Well Hopped and little Emma, Beefy, Pisswell, Alexis, Wetfart, Archangel, Gaga4It, BB making a Dirty Gertie thirty Braveheart hashers.

 

THE SANE VERSION of the trail words by Man-Pig

Well, at least we didn't get wet. The forecast rainstorm held off pretty much until all hashers had returned from whence they came. Even 'the perfect 10" Pisswell made it back before the Heaven's opened. The weather only really presented a problem for those trying to access their cars after 9.45pm as it was raining cats and dogs by then.....blustery too.

 

So what happened out there? Bluebird and I looked at each other in the bar across a half-eaten pasty. "What did you see on tonight's trail Man-Pig?" "Ermmm."

"What all, Man-Pig?" did the Bird ask. "I stayed with Kelvin and Pollyfella. Didn't see a thing. Well, at least I saw Kelvin and Polyfella I suppose".

 

This might have proved to be more than blind-as-a-bat Bluebird had seen. In an attempt to avoid a repeat of last year's fall, the Bird deviated off trail to escape the descent on the steep footpath that leads from just south of Colway Cross and exits onto the bottom of Forder Lane in Bishopsteignton. I may have only seen two other hashers on trail but that's better than none! I wonder if Bluebird saw more than two hashers out there?

 

Big End invited us back to the Red Rock Brewery for his second lay for TVH3. This time a solo lay sans l'assistance de Bien Hopped. Solo lays can be hard work, especially when Sunday's copious marks have been washed out by Monday's mini-monsoon. So well done to Big End for re-laying significant parts of the trail just before our 7.15 departure time (in 26 years of hashing with TVH3 we have never commenced the trail at 7.15!). Instructions were simple: "I've relaid some of it. If you don't see a mark, continue in a straight line!". What could possibly go wrong?

 

The only announcement in the circle concerned who had, and had not, pre-ordered a pint and a pasty. Swinger advised that Carl had pre-ordered a pasty and a pint but couldn't make the Hash. Manopause was the first to pounce and gobble up the opportunity of a second pasty....he'll grow up to be a big boy. His Mum would be proud of him. I think there were mumbles of 4 miles for the Shorts; under 6 for the Longs and a Walkers' trail. Back down the driveway. Longs to the right. Shorts and Walkers to the Left.

Bluebird, apparently fully recovered from last weeks' near death experience, shot off and ignored the first check as he careered down Humber Lane. Wet Johnny checked right, up Humber Lane. Man-Pig, in third place after 150 yards, followed the Bird knowing full well that he would have had a crafty reconnoiter of the trail beforehand. And so it proved to be. Three clear new dots and then an arrow that took us along a Hare's favourite track in this neck of the woods. Exiting at Colway Cross, the Bird's reconnaissance went awry....or so I thought. The Bird flew straight across whilst an arrow directed FRB's Wet Johnny, Beefy, Man-Pig, Kelvin and Polyfella to the right. Swinger could not have been far behind as I had heard a female voice behind me for most of the first mile. That voice disappeared as another (new) arrow pointed us down the steep and slippery footpath to the bottom of Forder Lane.

By the time we hit Forder Lane, Beefy and Wet Johnny were well gone and I only had Pollyfella and, the usually very fast, Kelvin from Plymouth for company (great effort to travel all this way to join us, especially given the weather forecast!).

 

As we climbed up Forder Lane, I did wonder if another mishap had befallen the Bird. I was oblivious to his alternative route Avoiding Low Bridge and slippery descent. "I was not going down there again" screeched the Bird later on in the pub.

 

A short way up Forder Lane, we came to the Walkers and Long/Shorts' split. The Walkers taking a left up Great Furlong, or was it Murwell Crescent? Never mind. The Longs and the Shorts carried on up Forder Lane till another arrow took us left and up West Street; straight across and onto Berry Hill, past a pub (I'm sure this pub had been renamed) and a quick left and right onto a public footpath. For those of us who knew where we were, we knew what was to come. Over 100 metres (330 feet) of unending ascent to Beacon Copse. In the far distance, I could see the shadows of a torchlight bouncing off the trees. This must be a hasher. One of the Shorts, I suspected or maybe Beefy or Wet Johnny? The dancing beam must have been a good 300 yards distant. It later transpired that these flickering lights emanated from none other than the Bird's head-torch....Short Cutting B*****d!

 

Rejoining tarmac another arrow. Right this time and up towards Teignmouth Golf Course. At White Well (another copse) a Long/Short split took the Longs into the copse and a loop that brought us out near the picnic tables where Bobbiball had his birthday drinks back in May. A distinct absence of marks meant that we had to rely on local boy (or should that be parrot?) Pollyfella. A left for about 150 yards before turning right towards Little Haldon. After 400 yards it was left and onto Three Trees Lane. A nice, but potentially treacherous, descent down a badly dilapidated track that had once been a tarmac road. Eventually we came to a proper road. Lo and behold, we were back on Humber Lane yet again. Left and left again and were back at the brewery and........relatively dry!

 

Thank you MP and now:

 

FLIGHT OF FANCY (INSANE) VERSION

 

When all at once a mighty herd

Of red eyed cows they saw..

 

Oh Yes, Oh Dearly Beloved, the Shorts and Walkers Shirley got a surprise when they embarked on their Teddy Bears' Picnic from the Red Rock Baby Ranch House Monday evening under the threatening clouds ..

 

Now before we continue any further into what may well be a flight of fancy, I feel I must issue a disclaimer about the events that follow which may bear no relation to the actual events that took place on Run #1884.

 

Supping my £3.20 Red Rock Baby, I listened in awe to trail tales being spun - notably by Manopause - but was he talking about tonight's trail? I leave you, Dear Readers, to decide the fact of the matter...

Now where was I, ah yes, the Teddy Bears' picnic horror:

 

In abject terror the shorts and walkers fled, no match for the mighty stampeding herd of red eyed cows that bore down on them. All hashers were Shirley fully paid-up members of the Self Preservation Society and thereupon scattered to seek whatever cover that could be found out there in the wilds of Red Rock Baby country - behind trees, up telegraph poles, it didn't matter - all they wanted was to survive the encounter and get back to the Red Rock Baby for their Pint and Pasty offer at a projected bargain £5.50 agogo..

 

Their formidable leader, man-o-war Manopause, stood his ground unblinking in the face of what was Shirley certain destruction. Half a second later, the man-o-war blinked and dived for cover.

 

Meanwhile, at the crossroads where the longs, shorts and walkers would so cunningly converge, Big End waited, confident that the plan - and the hash - would come together. But no cigar for his starter for ten as the longs charged out of the lane.. Shirley it couldn't have gone belly up already...

 

Back at Custer's Last Stand and the mighty herd had thundered past leaving the shattered remnants of the shorts and walkers to regroup before sallying forth once more. The Pasty and Pint, projected at a bargain £5.50 the only beacon of hope back at the Red Rock Baby ranch-house.

 

The Bird, wearing his beloved only good on road Hoka Mach 4's and already mauled by the off-road section, entered a plea of insanity and asked the hare for mercy.

 

The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven and thus the Bird was spared further punishment and directed down, way, way down into the village to Shirley head the longs off at the pass, Percy. HA!

 

And now, to prove to you that I'm no fool, I'll walk across your swimming pool. The first of two hardly credible tales on this doom-laden Fight for Your Pint and Pasty hash, I give you Walkabout (1971) Part 2 (Part 1, even more implausible, had already taken place). Alexis missed the left turn for the Descent of Death and continued all the way down to the Newton road before finally conceding that the hare's fateful final words did not apply here: 

 

'If you don't see any marks, keep straight on....' long sigh. But never mind, a seven mile plus trail bagged. Shirley shades of Coldtits Court Farm Inn Wong Wei here.

 

Dodging the Descent of Death, the Bird glided serenely down into suburban Bishopsteignton, Humming bird as he went. But thoughts of having a big lead evaporated when FRB calls could be heard in the distance. Wet Johnny and Beefy probably - but would they be pleased to see the Bird again? Possibly not.

 

Still on tarmac true but a climb to ye Olde Commercial Inn and a curious set of marks which left the Bird brain bewildered. An arrow pointing straight up the hill but to the left another set of marks: an arrow with O/R. Off-road, decided the Bird. 'That'll cramp their style Shirley!' and the Bird fled upwards, blissfully unaware that it was a road surveyor's mark he had seen... sigh.

 

A quick bugle Bird blast and then the FRB's swallowed him up. Ah, the pain of the near vertical climb on slippery field and furrow. Nearing the summit, a faint light was glimpsed behind, far below - Man-Pig! Anxiously, the Bird pressed on, waving to be-cycled Big End who was out and about, shepherding his flock.

 

Adventure aplenty was to be found and Beefy was sighted looking down into the woods for Wet Johnny who had gone astray on a lower path. The Bobbiball beer table loom-ed and the Bird didn't like the look of the next tortuous off-road section. 'I'll track you from the golf course road lads.' Beefy, tiring of the Bird's Hoka hokum exclaimed: 'You'd better wear your trail shoes next week!'

 

Wet Johnny was searching for marks when finally emerging from the mud and was called back onto trail as other lights were espied at strange compass points.

 

Ye savage gods, what was that ruined road descent all about?! It seemed to be endless and the legs took a pounding before blessed relief and the Humber road turn for home. Strap-On was soldiering on the short and just up ahead were Manopause and Erection who, seeing the Bird in their rear view mirrors, legged it back into the car park - I think they're getting fitter now!

 

Big End nodded permission to the Rain God above and the precipitation commenced as we scuttled into the ranch house to claim our Pasty and Pint offer.. HA!

 

TRAIL & BAR TITTLE-TATTLE

Missing the pre-booking deadline and on an away-day from Plymouth, KELVIN cut out the middle woman (Well Hopped) and ordered his Pasty and Pint directly from the Red Rock Baby!

COLDTITS smooth as silk on the short trail, never going Wong Wei at any point - hurrah!

Good to see POLYFELLA back on trail after injury.

KELVIN wasn't at the front with the FRB's owing to poor lighting - which you decidedly needed.

Happiness was Shirley WETFART who sat drinking his half of Red Rock Baby with a glazed smile. '£1.60 Bluebird, £1.60, now that's what I call a good price!'

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

BIG END most deservedly got his drink for double laying the trail - great effort!

PISSWELL awarded the Homing Horse Head hat for recording ten kilometres or was it miles?

MANOPAUSE singled out for punishment by Swinger for claiming Carl's pasty!

COLDTITS nominated by a babbling Bird for her Forde Park detour the previous week.

Finally, a BIG 400 Badge for SATNAV - and no, you didn't tell me Grand Master, it was just a good guess!

 

EPILOGUE

What a stonking evening we had at what has become a favourite On Down for TVH. Vittles and ale at bargain basement prices and a most convivial ranch house to enjoy them in. Many thanks to Big End for twice giving me 'foolproof' directions, once on the trail and how to get home!

The heavens opened up as Big End departed on his bike - trust the brakes worked on the descent!

Well done the hare.

 

POSTSCRIPT

What about Walkabout (1971) Part 1 I hear a solitary voice enquire? I shall merely relate Man-Pig's comment: 'Nobody could be that stupid!' I think you are right, MP and they wouldn't have believed it anyway - it must have been made up.. sigh.

Glad you happened along though!

 

ON ON to next week and Beefy's Walk on the Wild side up on the moor. Circle-up in the Rugglestone Inn's car park 7:15 pm. Details to follow.

COURT FARM CORRAL SLUGFEST & FROM ICARUS TO PHOENIX

Run #1883 Monday 27th September from the Court Farm Inn with Alexis

 

His face deathly white and peaked

His forehead even sweat bestreaked

His eyes despairing hollows of madness

As sped off he into autumnal darkness

From plunging Icarus to born again phoenix

A sad story Shirley befitting Kleenex...

 

Fading eyes discerned the transit of a satellite amidst the carpet of stars overhead. Still and quiet was the night. So very peaceful.. the eyelids grew heavy, flickered and slowly closed..

Ah, to drift away into final and eternal sleep...

A bright white light enveloped the crumpled creature and the Afterlife reached out to envelop the Bird gently into its comforting arms...

 

Yes, Oh Dearly Beloved, I had told you that I didn't feel very well and a few of you did comment on the ghastly wan features of the brooding Bird..

 

I had even asked Piltdown to move his chariot in case of imminent flight [soon to be sic as a parrot] and enquired how long the short trail might be.

 

Oh Liability, thy name is Shirley Bird this fateful night.

 

But let us dwell not on the melancholy most mischievous mayhem and returneth to this much anticipated virgin lay and the upcoming slugfest between Shitfaced Fury and the Archangel Joshua who waited with clenched teeth for the hare to reveal their fate.

 

There now will be a short intermission as sales staff dispense bedpans, emergency foil blankets, soft drinks and ices to the long-suffering readership.. This is going to be a truly Tolstoyan epic..

 

Right you are, here we go again..

 

ROLL CALL

A solid turnout for our return to the Court Farm Inn (last hash from here on 21st October 2019 #1817)

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, SM Ellie, Wetfart, U Bend, Soapy, Able, Triple Jump, Julie, Carl, Swinger, Manopause, Wet Johnny, Erection, Roxanne, Piddler, Pisswell, Beefy, Man-Pig, Big End, Well Hopped, Roxanne, four mini penners, Muffin, Archangel, Mouldy, Zoot, Hotlips, Ali, Bird, Strap-On, Steph, Screwed & Bella, Coldtits, Forrest, giving another 39 Steps hashers true and with 3Sum at the On Down.

 

HOW LONG IS THE LONG?

A long of differing Strava lengths, spake the virgin hare, it could be six, seven or even eight miles... a frightful silence upon the circle fell as the Fury turned a Whiter Shade of Pale. Stoic and unmoved was the Archangel Joshua - he of unending stamina.

And so it began, and what a hash it was to be - on run number eighteen hundred and eighty three - I really do try and keep you all amused..

 

PART ONE: ICARUS DOTH SOAR

Cautiously did the Bird ascend Stoneman's Hill of woe on his journey to the sun - prepared to capitulate at the slightest sign of discomfort. Wet Johnny to the fore and the pitter patter of Beefy resuming station after taking the obligatory snaps of the climbing pack.

 

Down Stoneman's Hill and quite unexpectedly the lawnmower burst into strident life. Shirley it had been only a fuel blockage and now it was clear? A muttered curse by Beefy at the mile marker as his tech had failed to engage and then it was all systems agogo as the cemetery flashed by to port.

Beefy and the Bird came upon that Child of the Hash, Wet Johnny, by the check at St Mary's Church and merrily did we speed down the Church Path to the main road, taking a hard left and then right into Bradley Park.

 

WJ and Beefy orchestrated and stretched the rubber band to an ever-widening fifty yards or so and the Bird took a quick look over his shoulder to see if there were any other takers - Shirley the Man-Pig and Big End would be closing now? Yes, a light entering the park - GameBird On!

Reunited with the Turbo Boys as they took a pit stop and fortunate for the myopic one as marks could not be seen - even when WJ kindly pointed them out.

 

Crossing the Lemon and seeing the climb to Ogwell, the Bird bade a tearful goodbye to Beefy who merely replied 'Au revoir, L'Oiseau Bleu!' And remarkably, he was correct as the Bird just about maintained contact and the duo descended into East Ogwell and past the bombsite that was one of our former favourite watering holes - the now deceased and not so Jolly Sailor.

 

The indolent Bird was now locked into follow Beefy mode, but both ground to a halt as the marks had apparently petered out. It was here that things took a turn for the worse. Retracing our steps back into the village, Man-Pig lurched out of the darkness and spotted what I thought was an old arrow. Wisely ignoring my input, Beefy and MP veered left and quickly sighted marks on the right. 

 

However, convinced that Beefy and I had already come down that way (we Shirley had not), the Bird squawked loudly that it could not possibly be that way.. and an odd feeling of disorientation swept over his tiny bird-brain.

 

Reluctantly resuming and only a few yards adrift, it happened. A feeling that I could no longer stand upright and an overwhelming desire to get to my knees in case I fell. A swirling sensation and suddenly I was sitting down with my knees drawn up to my chin - awaiting what I felt was going to be my demise..

 

PART TWO: SLUGFEST

Meanwhile, back at the longs and there were precious few participants out there - perhaps disquieted by the prospect of a possible eight-miler. Carl and Swinger were making steady progress and some way in arrears was the slugfest grudge match with an observer cum referee alongside to record the saga for posterity.

 

Oh Yes, Screwed and Bella were witness to the legend in the making and even recorded footage at the five mile mark, coincidentally by the Two Mile Oak pub. Perky indeed looked the Fury and just a few yards back, the Archangel was playing a waiting game - Shirley the Fury would fall by the wayside soon.. How soon? Very sooon hopefully.. The big hitters who had waded in and taken the skinny odds on the Archangel doing the bizzo were now looking a bit anxious.

 

ICARUS continued:

Back by the wayside, the Bird slept, perchance to dream.. It had been nigh on ten minutes since Man-Pig had dolefully cried 'On-on Bluebird!?' and then around the corner Carl and Swinger appeared to come upon the dread sight of The Bird Who Fell to Earth (2021). His wings were scorched and smouldering Icarus-like and, for a brief moment they thought it was a corpse as Carl shone his head torch down.

 

Don't go into the light, don't go.. mused the hallucinating Bird. 'Are you okay Bluebird?' enquired Carl and the life force flowed once more as the Icarian Bird was helped to his shaky feet. 'I'm okay, I'm fine, just having a breather...'

 

And now, a return to minor insanity, I give you the rip-roaring rendition from your favourite roving reporter. Let's hear it for Man-Pig!

 

BLACK HAWK DOWN by Man-Pig

Late September is always an odd time of the year. It is a time for reflection on the Summer past and the bleak midwinter still to come. Looking back to the Spring we looked forward to the the extended daylight and making the most of Devon's best beer gardens in the evening. I always look forward to getting some motorcycle miles under my belt. I do not relish the inevitable and interminable gardening and the obligatory maintenance work that attaches to older properties. For all these are outdoor summer activities. I look back at over 25 years of hashing with TVH3 and I recall a time when there was a large variation in attendance between the summer and the winter months. However, in recent years, I rather get the impression that there is probably little change between the numbers in attendance throughout the year. This is a testament to the dedication of all you guys out there who turn up, week-in and week-out and make TVH3 such fun. And what fun we had this week with a fortnight's worth of awards to dish out. But what about the run?

 

What would virgin Hare Alexis have in store for us? Being slim and light-footed, would we get an ultra long Long? If so, how would last week's protagonists and this week's combatants fair? In fact, would Tyson Shitfaced and Joshua Arkangel even make it back to the pub before last orders?

 

Able Seaman apologised for Teapot's absence. He was self-isolating in advance of a hip operation. In Teapot's absence, Tyson Shitfaced called the hash to order. No virgins this week so straight over to virgin Hare Alexis for the low-down on the trail. "It is almost all road. There is a Walkers', Shorts' and Longs' trail; 2.5 miles, 3.5 miles and........" silence!!! What on earth were the Longs in for.......poor Tyson & Joshua?

 

This would be the first run of the year that would take place in almost total darkness. Hence, a trail comprising mainly road was actually quite a wise choice. Clear instructions to turn left as we exited the pub car park caused some confusion for those who did not know their left from their right and continued in a straight line up to the road. "Not that left. This left and onto the footpath".

 

The very short footpath took us into the centre of Abbotskerswell and at the first junction it was a steep uphill climb past Manor Farm. Beefy was back in photography mode to capture the groaning throng on the ascent. As the road towards The Priory began to level off we came to our first check at a staggered crossroads. Wet Johnny went right. Man-Pig straight on and Bluebird banked left and claimed the first "On-On" of the evening. After 300 yards (yes YARDS....post Brexit we're reverting to Imperial measurement....including PINTS....but they never went away!) an arrow directed us up a cul de sac and onto a footpath. I think that this may have been only the second time that we've run up this footpath since it was fenced-in a couple of years ago.

 

Exiting the field via a style we came to another check. Big End and Well-Hopped were tempted to check right and back towards Abbotskerswell. The FRB's, who comprised the usual suspects of Wet Johnny, Beefy and Bluebird had all gone left. I knew that there was another footpath 200 yards up the road that would take us to Decoy Country Park so I veered left too. At the style that accesses this footpath.....nothing. No arrow. No check and the sound of "On-On" from the FRB's who were heading towards Newton Abbot cemetery. Maybe the Hare's description of "....nearly all road" had not been espoused with forked tongue? Another footpath, this time down to Wolborough Barton, was passed and ignored until we came to the Walkers's split. The Walkers would peel off left, past a reservoir, and descend back down to Abbotskerswell. The rest of us were cemetery bound.....some more than others (see later).

 

At the cemetery the trail took us right towards Wolborough Church. I just caught a glimpse of Wet Johnny darting down the footpath that exits opposite the entrance to Bradley Barton. This was the last I'd see of Wet Johnny until our RV back at the pub.

 

The trail was well marked with a combination of arrows and dots - pretty closely spaced. Sure enough, on arriving at the Totnes Road, a Long/Short split kept the Shorts on road whilst the Longs descended into Bradley Barton and along the footpath that follows the River Lemon. Again, I just caught a glimpse of a head torch on the far side of Bradley Park, maybe 250 yards ahead of me? It later turned out to be Bluebird. That guiding light was soon extinguished as soon as the Bird embarked on the meandering trail along the Lemon; obscured by bends and trees there was no light to guide me. Nearly half a mile later we crossed the Lemon at the ford. It was at this point that there were lights to the left of me. Definitely hashers but where had they been? They were on the wrong side of the river. My guess was that it was Karl and Swinger just having completed an evening course on "How to resuscitate your Cock" delivered by the RSPCB.

 

A fast climb up the lane to East Ogwell. It would Shirley be left and back down to the Totnes Road near the cemetery? No! An arrow to the right and downhill to the semi derelict Jolly Sailor which had been destroyed by a fire earlier in the year. Another hash-friendly pub lost.....sigh. Lights! Not one but two. It was Bluebird and Beefy.

 

Initially all seemed well as we followed the marks up towards Stubbins Cross. Beefy was pulling away from me as usual. But where was the Bird? "On-On Bluebird" I cried but not a squawk of a response. Odd, I thought. We're fairly evenly paced. I called again but still nothing. I eventually got within hailing distance of Beefy, "We're Birdless". We concluded that the Bird had probably short-cutted back down to the cemetery.

 

We continued on-trail completely oblivious to the fate that had befallen our erstwhile friend. For, unbeknown to us, the Bird had taken a funny turn. As we ate up the miles the crashed Bird was lying in a hedgerow - barely conscious and hallucinating. "What is that yellow orb in the sky? Is it my Maker calling time on my all to brief tenure on this fragile planet?" Fortunately it was not. It was Karl's head torch. Karl and Swinger came upon the hapless Bird and helped him to his feet. Whereupon, after a few deep breaths, he manoeuvred himself for take-off. Very gingerly at first. A walk. A cantor. A jog. Airborne. The Bird flies again....thank goodness! Shepherded by Karl and Swinger the Bird made it safely back to base having completed all of the 6.73 mile Long.... a flight worthy of Amelia Erhardt.

Meanwhile, the carefree FRB's continued on oblivious. At Rydon Cross, a kicked-out check took us across Denbury Road and onto Rydon Farm. Man-Pig completely failed to notice the right angle bend and only stopped when he realised that he was in Rydon Farm's farmyard surrounded by agricultural machinery.....ooops (BB: I had to brake hard here).

 

Back on trail and an arrow at Dornafield Cross guided us towards Two Mile Oak. We could clearly see the pub car park illuminated in the distance. At Two Mile Oak Cross,v it was straight across the Totnes Road and a level run down Whiddon Road to Gulland Cross. The final check - kicked-out left. At Greatoak Cross an arrow pointed left and our steep descent into Abbotskerswell.

Beefy's Strava had kicked-in late, so he had to add an extra mile to the recorded total. Yes, a lot of road but well marked and fast....perhaps too fast for our octogenarian Bird? Some new road that I've never hashed on before. All-in-all an excellent virgin lay. And the best bit? We all missed the monsoon rains that started impacting TVH3's turf from midnight onwards. But what about Tyson & Joshua?

What indeed Man-Pig, and a timely reminder for a flurry of epilogues to put the readership out of their collective misery - if you're still here, you've done awfully well.

 

EPILOGUE: THE SLUGFEST

Back at the Court Farm Inn, a huddle of RA's deliberated when to launch the Downdowns, acutely aware that commencement was dependent on the return of Archangel and Shitfaced. ETA had been calculated at around five to ten - what to do and what a to-do? But then at around quarter past nine and well ahead of schedule, the slugfest boys were sighted in the car park - hurrah!

A few minutes later and the Heroes of The Trail (2021) entered the bar but what had happened out there in the rolling hills of the virgin hare's seven miler?

 

What we do know is that Shitfaced Fury was clutching a t-shirt bearing the legend: 'I CHALLENGED SHITFACED ON THE LONGS!' and 'AND LOST!' on the back.

 

What the savvy statisticians also know is that the virtually 100% road trail would have been most unsuitable - and indeed painful for Archangel (especially that downhill drop at the end!) and he would have preferred an off-roader 'mudfest' to give of his best. But don't let that detract in any way from the remarkable effort put in by Shitfaced in covering the seven miles and staying on his feet for an hour and threequarters.

Not a bad effort by Screwed and Bella either and great that she got some footage of the warriors en route.

 

Err, do I hear either slugfester calling for a rematch? SLUGFEST 2?

 

EPILOGUE: THE PHOENIX

A few faltering steps and it seemed it was not possible to continue and a fearsome thought that a Swing low, sweet chariot might be necessary to carry the Bird home.. Oh the shame of it, Shirley and the thought was banished.

 

The mantra 'Confidence is high' was mumbled for the next mile. Reassured by the following Carl and Swinger, I made my way home, aided further by the downhill drop into Abbotskerswell. From foolish Icarus who flew too close to the FRB's, to born again Flight of the Phoenix (1965), Shirley a tale with a moral lesson to have you reaching for the Kleenex... No? Well please yourselves then.

 

EPILOGUE: THE VIRGIN TRAIL

You will never hear me criticise a virgin trail as a first ever trail lay is usually stressful and confidence is needed to go out and lay [sic] yourself open to adverse comments from the beer-swilling rabble back in the pub.

 

The preparation and workload for the Court Farm Inn trail were truly awesome and I do not use the word lightly. Alexis reccied and ran the long on Thursday (66 mins 32 secs for 6.67M !) laid the full long trail (Strava 8M) on Monday and two more sorties for the short and walkers, filled in the gaps later and finally swept 3M on the hash! Whoa!

 

The trail was mainly road (my favoured terrain anyway) but took in Bakers Park and the scenic River Lemon stretch. Like Man-Pig, I've hashed around there many times but, in truth, never knew exactly where we were going (I know, what's strange about that!) and seeing the Two Mile Oak on the left hand side really surprised me. It was well marked and well-received by the regular hashers.

Just to think you were worried about laying a trail beforehand, Alexis! Very well done and thank you from all who went out on the evening. A shame you could not make it to the pub, you were missed!

 

TWO QUESTIONS

Just a couple of queries, what exactly happened to COLDTITS on the 'short' trail? Her Strava revealed 5.35 miles covered and on closer inspection, I saw that the extra couple of miles were due to a 'detour' to FORDE PARK! You kept very quiet about that, didn't you, Coldtits! A certain DD if anyone had spotted it. Quite an adventure and well done for retracing your footsteps and getting back on trail.

Also, I'm intrigued about the four mini-Penners. Did they do the long? I can vaguely (still not quite with it) recall Roxanne, drink in hand, going into the car park to see where they were.

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

A bumper edition as Mouldy (Hashit shirt), Forrest (Homing Horse Head) and Swinger (Checkin Chimp) all turned out with their awards from a fortnight ago. Man_Pig had the Viking hat and the Bird was sporting the Covid-secreted Bat Hat once more as his award from the Manor Inn. 

 

Man-Pig negotiated the halves and we were all set.

 

Swinger dropped the casual line: 'We found Bluebird in a hedge...' and got things off to a 'flyer' if you'll excuse the pun... After many a cruel jest, Bluebird got the Checkin' Chimp.

 

Mouldy's retribution was swift - CARL awarded the Hashit shirt for pulling said Bird out of the hedge.

Man-Pig jumped on the merry bandwagon and awarded SWINGER the Viking hat for aiding and abetting Carl.

 

Forrest had a throwback award for MAN-PIG and offered up his 2019 Trail of the Year shirt as well as the Horse Head hat (hurrah!) for always complaining about the award?! and for wearing white socks with brogues!!

 

Shitfaced pulled rank and stepped up to the oche to gleefully deliver his triumphant t-shirt and award a DD to ARCHANGEL.

 

Finally, Mouldy spotted an easy kill and summoned the owner of a blue bag forward to explain why he had left his head torch on - glowing through the bag... DD for STRAP-ON.. sigh.

 

And yes, I did have an award to deliver but was still in the Twilight Zone and incapable of the effort..

perhaps next week..

 

ON ON to next week and it's back to the RED ROCK brewery with Big End and Well Hopped.

RED ROCK MAP FOR MONDAY 4 OCTOBER

 

TIDE-TIME TONY STRIKES AGAIN by our Roving Reporter Man-Pig

Run #1882 Monday 20th September from the Manor Inn at Galmpton with U Bend

 

U-Bend invariably sets a very good trail from this neck of the woods - whether it be the Manor Inn or Churston Court. It is a lovely part of Devon with a combination of hills, coast and estuary to whet the appetite. We really should try to use this area more often. The views over the Dart from Greenway are to die for. So it was, with a little disappointment, that only 22 athletic souls migrated to the Manor Inn for another U-bend yomp. This also meant that the recipients of three of last week's awards weren't present.....we would have to improvise.

 

In the absence of Teapot our GM, Shitfaced, called the Circle to order and introduced virgin Ali. U-Bend then described the trail, muttering something about ".....tides....." and "You might get wet. But don't worry. It shouldn't be more than ankle-deep" as his hand rose from his ankle up to his waist. For some reason, the smile had evaporated from virgin Ali's face at this point. It was also a full moon. This meant that we'd be on a spring tide. Maybe the waist would prove to be a more accurate gauge of our inevitable encounter with the wet stuff?

 

Just prior to the run U-Bend had a quick word in my ear. "Hey, Man-Pig. It's the same trail that I laid for for South Hams last month. Maybe you and Bluebird would like to run it backwards?". I affirmed that I could recall the trail and was happy to run it backwards but, in the event, U-Bend said that it would just be easier if Bluebird and I did the normal trail. With this in mind I envisioned a lonely run with only Bluebird for company. We would not see the rest of the hash until we were back at the pub and yet again the Words would be monopolised by the Bird and the Pig. How wrong I was. A combination of darkness, amnesia and an absence of carotene conspired to have the Pig and the Bird spend most of the evening going "wong wei" and continually having to catch up with both the Shorts and the other Longs.

 

The Hash immediately ground to a halt outside the pub car park. There was a slightly faded mark with an arrow and an "S". Apparently Haldon had run from here the previous week. The Hare thus enlightened us and suggested that we follow "new marks" and not "old marks". It was not long before we came to the first new check which was near the school. This was fine. I knew where I was going and carried on towards Greenway. This was only to have shouts of "You're unsporting Man-Pig. Check it out properly. You've done it before". My accuser was Piddler, for he too had been on South Hams hash a month earlier.

 

In true unsporting fashion the Pig and the Bird carried onto the next check which was, in fact, a Long/Short/Walkers' split. The Pig recalled the trail going left but this was clearly marked "Short". "I'm sure it was left", I grunted. The other arrow was straight ahead. Well, if left was Short, straight ahead must be Long. Hence we sprinted off eager to swank about how quickly we'd complete the trail when we got back to the pub. Wet Johnny had properly checked-out the first check and was now behind us as we accelerated towards Greenway. Then, more shouting from behind us. This time it was the be-cycled Hare yelling, "Man-Pig. You've gone the wrong way. You're on the Walkers' trail". "WALKERS!" Whatamistakatomaka. U-turn following U-bend and a perplexed Wet Johnny back to the Long/Short/Walkers' split. Our undoing was a very slight variation in the marks adopted by U-Bend. Rather than use three distinctive marks, "arrows", an "S" and an "L", U-Bend had combined the "L" into an arrow.......hmmmmmmmmm.

 

The former FRB's were nearly relegated to the rear. We reached the entrance to Coombe Lane just in front of the Walkers, Gaga 4 It and Ann. 

 

Coombe Lane forms part of Greenway Walk. It starts off fairly level and gets steeper towards its azimuth. We were soon picking off the Shorts. First Melonpicker, then it was Shitfaced followed by Hotlips, Zoot and virgin Ali. Ali was very polite. As I approached from the rear she said, "Just wait. I'll move over". I replied that I was "Happy where I am" to be treated by a wry smile and an emergency stop by Ali. I had no other option than to shoot past.....oh well! 

 

It wasn't too long before we caught up the Hare on his mountain bike and those that would usually do the Long, Arkangel, Erection, Manopause and Strap-On.

 

At the top of Coombe Lane there was a Long/Short split. This proved to be a loop. The trail took us over a stile and into a field. At the stile, we caught up with Smellie and only 100 yards ahead of her were Well Hopped and Big End plus Ned. However, looking up towards the A379 at Hillhead, we could see FRB Wet Johnny some 400 yards yonder. How does he do it?

 

Loop completed we rejoined the Short trail overtaking the Hare again on our descent down to Higher Greenway. Coming off the footpath and onto the lane, another check, kicked out left down towards Maypool....some very nice properties along this cul-de-sac. Right into the grounds of Agatha Christie's former residence, Greenway, now in the hands of the National Trust. This is set on a small headland perched high overlooking the Dart. At this point the Dart meanders in a reverse "S" shape and there are clear views across to Dittisham. In the summer one can get the "ferry" over the Ferry Boat Inn in Dittisham. The ferry is really nothing more that a motorised clinker built rowing boat. The best bit is the means by which one summons the ferry when it's on the other side of the Dart. One simply picks up the hand bell and gives it a jangle. No mobile phones here. All very quaint.

 

As we descended across the field towards Greenway Manor, we could see torchlight. It was the Shorts. Once again we had caught up with Shitfaced, Manopause, Erection, Piltdown Man, Georgie Porgy, Zoot, Hotlips and virgin Ali. They appeared to have lost the trail. Insider knowledge took us through a five bar gate where we picked up the trail running along the top edge of the woods. 

 

Back in front, the Bird and the Pig entered the woods and took a short cut almost on a reverse trail. No marks of course. After 400 yards and no descent we thought that we'd better retrace our steps. Two minutes later, we were back with Zoot, Hotlips and virgin Ali and back on trail. Next we caught up with Erection and Manopause who were engaged in a bit of naval [MP assures me that this is sic] gazing. Apparently not naval gazing but looking at a rather rare mark. "What's a circle with a cross in it?" asked Manopause. "Backcheck". So it was back to a blue polyethylene 50mm pipe which was a temporary water supply and a descent to the lane at Lower Greenway. Straight across the lane and over a stone stile and through Lower Greenway farm.

 

At the farm, the trail took us over another stone stile. However, in an attempt to get ahead of Man-Pig, the Bird opted to climb over a steel farm gate. Not a wise move. The gate had only been secured at either end with baler twine. Inevitably, the whole caboodle collapsed with the Bird perched on top of it. Under normal circumstances, the Bird might have got any with it. This time the Bird's spectacular display of stupidity took place right in front of Manopause......Down Down duly noted.

 

The trail continued across two fields and down to the edge of Galmpton Creek near Old Mill Farm. Gingerly we tiptoed onto the foreshore. In the distance, on the far side of the creek, we could see the erratic wobble of a torch beam. This would have been a wet Wet Johnny, now some 600 to 700 yards ahead. Initially it looked like we might not get wet at all. But as we made our way along the creek edge the water was lapping up against the creek's stone wall. Wet feet. Wet ankles. Wet calves. Fortunately, it didn't get any deeper than that. Hitting dry land at the quay we came across Gaga4it and Ann at the final Long/Short split. Shorts and Walkers followed the lane up to Manor Farm and back into Galmpton. 

 

The Longs went back down to the quay and picked up the trail at a set of stone steps. This took us across three fields and up to Stoke Gabriel Road. The marks in the field were clearly visible under the full moon - a pleasant pale orange. A steep descent and a simple all road trail led us the last 800 yards back to the pub - 5.29 miles.

 

Once again, U-Bend had provided us with a beautiful and excellent trail. Whether by accident or by design, and in true hash fashion, the Longs and the Shorts continued to overlap each other. Well done U-bend. For those that didn't make it, you missed a good 'un.

 

Onto next week at Court Farm, Abbotskerswell and virgin lay by Alexis.

 

Thank you Man-Pig, and now to the Manor minutiae:

 

Circle roll-call:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, S M Ellie, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Archangel, Man-Pig, Zoot, Hotlips, virgin Ali, Piddler, U Bend, Bird, Strap-On, Ann, Gaga4It, Coldtits, Big End, Well Hopped and Melon Picker making Two Little Ducks 22

 

DOWNDOWNS

Pub generously gave no less than SIX halves for the DD's but presented RA Man-Pig with a problem - how to dispense.. not assisted by Forrest, Mouldy and Swinger not showing with previous week's awards..

 

Man-Pig got the DD's off to a flying start as he was nominated for the first award from WJ - one of two 'elderly gentlemen' who led him astray early doors..

 

Mandatory DD for hare U Bend.

 

'Who said you could leave the floor?' 400 Badge for hare U Bend.

 

Erection drops his wallet on the floor - BOING! That's 'andy 'Arry, pop it in the oven DD.

Manopause refused to let the Bird get away with an abortive attempt to fly a metal gate and get ahead of MP. The gate was only flimsily fastened by baling string and the Bird crashed and burned... sigh.

Classic of the evening went to our Grand Master who uttered the memorable 'Would you like to hold my pole?' to some unfortunate harriet as a stile was about to be negotiated.. sadly the GM was only offered water for the Carry On chat up line..

 

Sneaky DD for virgin Ali hits a snag - she doesn't LIKE BEER! Outraged murmurs (led by Piddler) that the RA lets her off and Zoot is nominated to down the award. Doesn't like beer? I've never heard anything like it on the hash before!

 

POSTSCRIPT

Outside decking and awnings the way to gogo, augmented with fancy lighting - now a sign of our Armageddon times and the Manor Inn has yielded to the inevitable down in sleepy backwater Galmpton.

 

But it was nice was it not, for our pioneering cricket team party of twenty two?

 

The pre-booked skinny chips at a reasonable £1:95 were ready to munch back from the trail and the Proper Job - hurrah! was a so-so £4:30.

 

We commandeered the top tier of the al fresco gilded timber galleon of delight and Man-Pig was considerate enough to advise a lone party of normal people what was about to be visited upon them cometh the Downdowns.

 

U Bend, on-trail be-cycled and now decidedly looking trimmer after his get fit regime, set a solid trail on a beautiful moonlit night and was rewarded with his 400 Badge at the On-Down.

 

Hot Rod Fukarwi did a fly-by on his Fonz cycle and departed without hashing as he has succumbed to the dreaded (I've now got it - couldn't walk Tuesday) plantar fasciitis.

 

ON ON to next week and a virgin lay by Alexis from the Court Farm Inn at Abbotskerswell - and the much anticipated Archangel Joshua V Shitfaced Fury showdown.