TVH3 The Words for 1st May 2023

The Thatched Tavern, Maidencombe

 

Hidden Devon & Bluebird's "75th" birthday Hash

 

Run. No. 1967

 

HARES: Bluebird & Man-Pig

 

 

Who wuz there: Bluebird, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Teapot, Forrest Stump, Perry, Wetfart, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Well Hopped, Roger the Dodger, Cold Tits, Broadshit, Wet Johnny, Erection, Piddler, Satnav & Bobbiball (cycled over from Paignton!).

 

Circle

A beautiful 1st May - or Beltane - greeted 21 Hashers to The Thatched Tavern. GM Shitfaced welcomed all in the briefest of welcomes. Over to Hare raiser Smellie. "We're OK for Hares till mid summer". Well, that was brief as well. Over to the Hare. Bluebird said "Man-Pig will explain everything". Over to Man-Pig:

 

"It's not very long. There is a Long/Short split. Those on the Long, wait for me at the re-group as I will lay a live trail from there to "Hidden Devon" - but, beware. The ropes are over 10 years old. Do not rely on them too heavily".

 

Piddler asks, "How long is the Long?"

 

"2.64 miles", lies Bluebird.

 

"Is there a Walkers' trail" requests Wetfart.

 

"No. Just do the Longs' slowly", replies Man-Pig. "On-On is back up Steep Hill".

 

The Trail

This week there were no experiments and no bad weather. Just an old fashioned Hash with conventional marks - or an absence thereof? The trail was really very simple. Out to Labrador Bay car park on the upper part of the Southwest Coastal Path and a return to the pub via the lower coastal path.

 

The weather was kind. The skies were blue. The bluebells were out and the views were stunning. 

 

Being Beltane, Beefy elected to do the trail carrying a Ram's skull which he photographed at various backdrops along the route. 

 

In fact, quite a few Hashers were taking photos on trail. Spring is well and truly here. Smellie explained that pagans consider Beltane to be a religious holiday as it marks the beginning of growth and fertility. It also marked the ability to get back to the pub at 9.15 without using a torch.

 

As instructed, the Longs had waited at the regroup for the last of the Longs to arrive. These comprised Man-Pig, Beefy and Forrest Stump. The live trail was fairly short as Man-Pig had laid a trail below Labrador Bay car park, and then down the lower path that would eventually take you to Shaldon.

 

Then, suddenly, the Pig stopped - only to be crashed into by Beeflicker. Almost unnoticed on the right hand side of the path is a piece of grassless earth and a small gap in the hedge. Peering through the gap reveals a hidden and inaccessible wooded valley.

 

Did I say inaccessible? Take a harder look.....at your shoelaces. No. Not literally. But gazing footward one could see a rope descending a steep, worn escarpment. Yes, it was steep but just about manageable without a rope. The rope, however, was a welcome asset - even if it was at least 10 years old!

 

The Pig explained that this would be an out and back trail with no marks. Have a look around the valley and, if you dare, there is another series of ropes that will take you down onto the coastal stretch known as Rock Flats.

 

The Pig didn't really think that anyone would attempt the dodgy descent to the Rock Flats.

 

Another decidedly hazardous and near vertical descent we did was a decade ago. On that occasion (another Bluebird birthday trail) Hatrack picked us up in his coach from Maidencombe Cross and deposited us at The Ness car park in Shaldon. It was low tide and the trail took us along the coast; negotiating eight coves; clambering over the boulder fields and the razor sharp worn sandstone rocks. That trail ended up with us ascending several ropes from Border cove up to the lower coast path. I remember that trail well because my Garmin recorded an average speed of 1.94 miles per hour!

 

Well, I guess Hashers like a challenge. I got to the bottom of the first descent and everyone had disappeared! Where on earth had they gone? 

 

They'd all made a beeline for the descent to the Rock Flats. This involved another four ropes and, in truth, wasn't as difficult as the first descent. After the coastal exploration, it was back up and a trip to the "Hovel" where some industrious chappie has created a little abode for himself.

 

 

 

It is basically a dug-out but this one has a sink, a proper front door, glass windows, recesses cut out in the wall for candles, and an attempt has been made to render the internal walls with naturally occurring clay. It was fantastically rustic and all rather ethereal.

 

Time was pushing on and most of the Longs were already making their way back. Last to leave the Hidden Valley were Beeflicker, Pisswell and Man-Pig. 

 

We returned to Maidencombe via the lower path. This had not been marked until it joined up with the Shorts' return trail. The light was fading but not dangerously so. Man-Pig and Pisswell got back to the car park at 9.15. Not quite dark and quite manageable without a torch.

 

All-in-all, quite a mini adventure. Well done to Forrest for whom six roped descents and ascents posed little impediment. But most thanks must go to Bluebird for sharing one of south Devon's best kept secrets with the Hash. We hope that you enjoyed it.

 

Down-Downs

The original plan had been for a bamboo effigy of the Beltane Man to have been burnt on the beach but Ziggy (our Green Man) hadn't quite finished constructing the bamboo man so this will have to wait till next year. 

 

As a substitute, Bluebird had invited his shanty group Out of Tunas' to join with him in the pub and to sing their particular style of birthday wishes.

 

Forrest Stump assumed RA'ing for the evening. The first order of service was the Hash singing all the right notes, not necessarily in the right order, and Bluebird was duly awarded his birthday Down-Down.

 

Forrest asked if there were any awards from last week? There was only one present. But there should have been two.

 

Piddler had the Bacardi hat from last week and he had been on the Longs but was not back in the pub. He had been seen backtracking the outward Longs' trail after the visit to the Hidden Valley. We assumed that he had simply gone home straight after the run.

 

The only other award was the Hashshit shirt. Man-Pig had this from the previous week and he was going to give it to Piddler. However, there was a story to tell.

 

Today was Bluebird's big birthday.....or was it? Bluebird had gone to great lengths badgering Smellie to secure this date for his "Big Birthday".....75. However, when laying the trail earlier that day, Bluebird said to me, "Man-Pig. I've got a confession to make. I've made a mistake. It's not my big birthday till next year!" Whatamistakatomaka!

 

Accordingly, the Pillock shirt to the Pillock who can't remember his date of birth and another Down-Down. A song about Old MacDonald and tourettes.

 

Forrest asked if there were any more awards. There were none so Bluebird got a Down-Down for being Hare. He was now neck and neck with Smellie for three Down-Downs in a single evening....thankfully we moved on to half pints about 7 years ago.

 

The last half pint of beer was still to be awarded. Forrest asked, "Who saw the On Home sign two miles from the pub....and on a 2.64 mile trail?" You guessed it. The final half of ale went to Bluebird again. A Hash record. 

 

All Down-Downs to the same recipient.

 

Forrest thanked the pub for the parking and the chips. 

 

Bluebird, not wishing to take advantage of the generosity of the pub, had bought the four halves of beer - which he then downed! Hoorah!

 

The evening finished off with the Out of Tunas' singing a sea shanty about a girl and lost love.....we've all been there.

 

On leaving the pub, Bluebird turned to me and said, "Thankyou Man-Pig. I've had the most wonderful of days". It was touching and perhaps a little misplaced. I think it was the Hash that had had the most pleasant of evenings. 

Enjoy your birthday my friend.

 

Postscript by BB

A wonderful day and one I will fondly remember. I had Thomas Cooked the day last year when the error was made and I had naturally added a year in my mind.. All rather embarrassing but I'll have to stick with it as the pub won't put up with another BIG birthday next year!

 

Man-Pig and I had the very best of the weather on the lay. The hidden valley was magical and, who knows, but we may well be returning again sooner than you think..

 

Unfortunately, I am still most unfit after being three months out with injury and it wasn't possible for me to help MP lay the trail. I had gone out on Sunday for a recce and got very tired carrying half a sack of cat litter and the marks,, shades of MP the week before, got eroded by some hefty showers.

 

I did, however, help a bit on Monday afternoon by driving him out to Labrador Bay car park, dropping him off and then driving back home to wait for him to get back! That's what friends are for, sometimes. Yet again, Man-Pig saved the day. 

 

Thank you all for coming along and making the evening. I was overjoyed to see Bobby in the pub. He had cycled over from Paignton especially. I was also surprised to see five of our Out of Tunas (fifteen strong at gigs) drop by to join in the fun.

 

What a great day. Thank you everybody who made it so.

 

Not forgetting to thank MP for the bottle of Jura!

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at Two Mile Oak with Hare, Only Here for the Beer.

 

On-On to next week.

A SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY 'ALAS, UNDONE BY TEN TEMPESTUOUS MINUTES'

TVH3 The Words for 24th April 2023

 

The Lord Nelson, Kingskerswell

 

Run. No. 1966

 

HARE & HERO: Man-Pig

 

Prologue by BB

Woeful words will follow, but I feel I must add a few of my own in support of one of the mainstays of our hash. 

 

Whenever there is need of a hare to fill a gap in the diary, he is there to volunteer. The 'filling crew' of our Grand Master and in months past, myself, are there to plug the holes and keep the good ship TVH afloat.

 

Originally planning another epic trail of marathon proportion, Man-Pig learnt on Sunday evening that I would be unable to co-hare. Even in the face of this setback, he refused to scale back his grand design, and set off on a sunny Monday morning to lay all the trails solo. The GM is still incapacitated - but was valiant enough to try to assist and was waiting at the Park Inn to rendezvous with MP at 1 pm only to find that the trail was done.

 

I was greatly surprised and, ultimately, distraught to receive a plaintive email from Man-Pig on Tuesday morning. He was most unhappy that he had spoilt the evening for hashers by losing his temper on trail.

 

What he failed to realize was that hashers were worried about him and had enjoyed the trail, even in the absence of washed out marks. Ask Beefy, he'll tell you.

 

Thankfully, and befitting of her status, Fallen Woman paid tribute to Man-Pig for his dedication and service to the hash. Well said.

 

If Piddler - a gentleman, despite his trademark complaints, and done as a leg-pull as most realize, had known the travails of the lone hare, he might have had second thoughts.

I'll stop now, but just think on, Man-Pig must have covered nigh on twenty miles on Monday, uncomplaining and, all for the love of our hash.

 

We thank you.

 

The players: Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Hotlips, Zoot & friend (returnee), Cheerio Beerio, Only Here for the Beer (literally), Soapy, Melonpicker, Broken Man, Fallen Woman, Teapot, Wetfart, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Horny, Pork Torpedo, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ernie, U-Bend, Wetfart, Fukarewe, Cold Tits, Piddler, Strap-On, Strap Dancer, Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & Satnav.

 

Circle

The weather had turned decidedly chilly as we circled up outside the Lord Nelson. Shitfaced welcomed all including a friend of Zoot and Hotlips who is a returnee. I am afraid that I didn't get her name. It was also good to see Teapot back from his recent operation and looking rather well.

 

As it was run 1966, Shitfaced asked what happened in 1966? Apparently, England won a football match and hasn't done anything since. Hotlips promoted the forthcoming Ale Train trip on 13 May - departing from Newton Abbot railway station at around 10.35 (check Hash FB page for exact time).

 

In a similar vein, Piltdown Man promoted a planes, trains and automobiles type run/pub crawl from the Paignton/Brixham area on 12 July.

 

Then it was over to the Hare. Man-Pig explained that Bluebird's Mum had been very poorly the previous night and, therefore, MP had taken it upon himself to lay the trail solo earlier in the day.

 

As such, the trail would be a bit of an experiment. There would be no checks. Instead, at road junctions and forks in pathways (the places that you'd normally expect to see a check) the next dot would only be some 15 to 30 yards away. There would be very few crosses and no deliberate false trails.

 

The idea behind this was simple. It was to make the Hash a little more involving by affording all Hashers the opportunity to do a bit of checking. Otherwise the vast majority of the pack would arrive at checks kicked out by the FRB's. Basically, "If you see a dot, you're On".

Yes, there was a Walkers', Shorts' and a Longs' trail of circa 3, 5 & 6 miles respectively - all clearly marked (at least they were at 9am). A tried and often repeated hashers' motto: What could possible go wrong?

 

The melodrama unfolds

Well, who gives a flying where we went? Everyone got back; albeit many having done their own thing, been off trail or simply failing to see any marks at all. In fairness, this was not helped by the Pig failing to remove a clear mark from last week's AshHash. This had at least Coldtits and Fukarewe embarking on a fool's errand up to Moles Lane only to find two arrows directing them back down again. This was entirely my error and my apologies to all who fell foul of my mistakamada.

 

A court of inquiry was convened. Things looked poor from the start. The Pig had given clear instructions that the trail went straight down through the village. Yet this didn't deter some from checking for marks down Water Lane. The pace was decidedly lackadaisical as the pack strung out, nearly all walking, as we crawled down Fore Street. My experiment was already falling flat on its face as the pack proceeded at a snail's pace down Rose Hill across Kingskerswell Road overbid (as named by Network rail). Some were checking, incorrectly, towards Whitpot Mill and had to be called back.

 

Less than 400 yards and it was already going belly up. It very soon became apparent that my "clear marks" were not very clear at all and Hashers were struggling to see them.

I had finished laying the trail at 12.30, just in time to meet with Shitfaced at 1pm to tell him that I had already laid all of the trail. 

 

At 1.15pm there was very heavy hail and rain. It only lasted ten minutes so I had no reason to consider that it might have completely decimated a brand new trail. How wrong I was. As far as I was concerned, I had laid a decent trail and I could now get on with other things in the afternoon.

 

Well, in 39 years of hashing, I have never seen so much erosion of marks in such a short time. Some marks just weren't there; others barely visible. What was I to do? Stay at the back of the pack, sweeping to make sure no-one got lost or race ahead and try and re-lay as much of the trail as possible? Effectively laying a live trail. I ended up doing a bit of both.

 

It was so frustrating. I had put a lot of thought and effort into both planning and laying the trail. Now it was all in ruins. I had run my proposed trail on Saturday morning. Those who follow me on Strava will know that it was 8.8 miles. This was too long for a hash so, when setting the trail on Monday morning, I simply removed the loop to Marldon. This would have reduced the Long's trail to a more manageable 6 miles.....if anyone could discern the heavily obscured Long/Short split which nobody did (in fairness, after having remarked this split, Beefy did embark on a solo journey around this part of the trail but I think he was the only one).

 

Even before the frustration of the washed out marks, I had done my best to give Hashers a slightly different route than they might expect for a Kingskerswell Hash. This meant that a lot of the trail ran very close to other parts of the trail. The marks would have to be very good so as to avoid inadvertent short cuts. For this reason, I thought that it would be best for me to lay the trail solo. 

 

Bluebird could stay in and look after his Mum and Shitfaced wouldn't have to worry himself about conjuring up a trail on the hoof when we met at 1pm. Indeed, had it not rained so heavily, I think I that the trail would have achieved its goals.

 

The simple truth of the matter is that we Hash too frequently from Kingskerswell. All the trails and tracks have been hashed out and it is becoming increasingly difficult to give Hashers something different from the same venue.

 

I do recall a time, perhaps 20 years ago, when Teign Valley very rarely ran from the same pub more than once or twice a year. The only exception being the Teign House Inn; and even then I am sure that we never ran there more than four times in any one year. 

 

Certainly, in recent times, the number of different pubs that we have run from throughout the year has dropped. This has not been helped by the trend of many pubs not opening on a Monday night. Accordingly, venues and trails run the risk of being overused. Nevertheless, I gave it my best shot to give Hashers something new(ish) even though it did not go as planned.

 

Accordingly, after 400 yards, I really couldn't put up with Piddler's incessant moaning about the absence of marks. I know that the Hash is all about chilling out and leg pulling. But all I saw in front of me was a 6 mile damage limitation exercise. I had a complete sense of humour failure, threw the container of flour at Piddler and said, "You lay the f*****g trail then!" This was not personal. It could have been a criticism from anyone and my reaction would have been the same. I was just vexed that a job that I thought that I had done so well had turned out to be the proverbial crock of ****.

 

Accordingly, my sincere apologies to Piddler and to all Hashers. I consider you my friends. This is your chill out time and chill out time is so very precious to us all.

As soon as I entered the pub, I could tell that everyone was aware that Man-Pig was not a happy bunny. So, my apologies to you all.....my frustration rather put a dampener on your evening. It most certainly wasn't intended.

 

Down-Downs

Fortunately, by the time I arrived at the Lord Nelson Fallen Woman had assumed the mantle of RA for the evening. This was a good call as I really wasn't Mr. Happy. Fallen Woman commenced by thanking the pub for the beer and for laying on the Ploughman's lunch. She then went on to thank the Hare for his unstinting dedication to the Hash. Thankyou. 

 

I was really quite humbled....just doing what so many of you other guys do.

 

Hashshit shirt: well, I guess that it should come as no surprise that Wetfart decided to give it to Man-Pig; a combination of profanity and coming third in the flour throwing competition!

 

Bacardi Hat: Smellie had this from last week. This could have gone to Man-Pig for laying part of the trail in dead rabbits but, instead, it went to Ernie. Ernie had been too loud in his calling of "On-On" to the extent that a local complained that he was frightening her horses. A note for the "Horse non-whisperer".

 

Jester's hat: after a 4 or 5 week absence Piddler arrived with the Jester's hat. Again, unsurprisingly, Mr Grumpy was a contender. But, in the end, it went to Horny. I am not quite sure why. It could have been for chatting with Cheerio Beerio about pussies and how they are not getting along with them or it might have been a proxy award for Pork Torpedo. He had managed to run over his foot in his van. Quite a feat [sic] I think you will agree. How on earth did he manage that?

 

Finally, a legacy from the Awards Night. The recipients of the award for the best On-Down of the year were in Barbados during the awards and this was the first time that both Fallen Woman and Broken Man had both been present at Teign Valley since.

 

The Award for best On-Down of the year 2022 went to them for unbridled hospitality at their Fish'n'Chip hash last December......and do you remember that troublesome yard of ale! It is also Broken man's 84th birthday next Thursday. Hence a note for "The Elder Statesman". He may be nearly 84 but that half disappeared rather sharpish.

 

Epilogue

Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. It is also the first day of the hosepipe ban for TQ12 postcodes and most of west Devon. As I write these words, I gaze down at the cool, clear water in the pool. So inviting, so tempting but patience; patience my friend for today she is too cold. Your patience will be rewarded. Keep her clean and in just a few weeks you can dive in; reacquainted with an old friend, welcomed by her warmth and refreshment. But today is different. It is like looking at a beautiful woman. You can look. You can yearn. You can lust. You can even dream. But the reality is that this is all that you will ever do - look. Don't touch. There will be no warm embrace this year. This year she will remain cold and out of reach.....maybe next year?

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is, notionally, at Maidencombe car park - just below the Thatched Tavern. It is Bluebird's Big birthday hash.

 

However, due to Bluebird's Mum's health condition, things may change. See the TVH3 Facebook page for latest details.

 

On-On to next week.

TVH3 The Words for 17th April 2023

Red Rock Brewery, Humber: National NBC Alert

 

Run. No. 1965

 

HARES: Big End & Well Hopped

 

Who wuz there: Big End, Well Hopped, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Arkangel, Forrest Stump, Wood-Lend, Soapy, Melonpicker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Ablesemen, Ernie, U-Bend, Wetfart, Bluebird, Wet Johnny, Fukarewe, Cold Tits, Broadsheet, Pollyfella, Threesum, Martin, Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & Satnav.

 

Circle

We are a myopic lot - us Hashers. Eyesight is obviously not our strongpoint. We don't see the clock ticking and find ourselves arriving late. We don't read the Words or the Facebook notifications properly and we end up going to the wrong venue. Perhaps our most recurring error is simply to follow the person in front? We don't look at the ground. We don't see the marks, and we all get off trail.

 

And so it was last night....and the trail hadn't even begun! We all drove down the drive to the Red Rock brewery tap house. We all saw cars, parked on tarmac, in front of the tap house and duly parked next to them. Only one solitary Hasher used his eyes. He saw the sign on the blackboard next to a five bar gate. The sign read, quite simply, "Parking". Setting off for the start of the trail we gazed lazily at the solitary, metallic blue, Honda Jazz; alone in a huge field. More alone than usual. This one had lost its best friend....its keys!

 

Shitfaced called the Circle to order. The first query was to Smellie re the Diary.

"No. I have no announcements. the diary is full up to the 12th June".

 

Next Shitfaced welcomed back returnee, Wetfart - but maybe he shouldn't have. Wetfart has been on nursemaid duties since his wife took a tumble down some steps. I understand that she is now well on the road to recovery. What had not recovered in the intervening two months was Wetfart's backside. Despite being outside, Wetfart's "silent but deadly" was still of room clearing quality. If this had happened post 23rd April everyone's phones would have pinged at the same time. A text message from Porton Down alerting of a NBC (Nuclear Biological Chemical) attack in the Humber area of South Devon.

 

Once the air had cleared, and those closest to the blast had been airlifted to hospital, Big End gave us the low down on the run. Rather, and more accurately, the "high ups" on the run.

"It will be all uphill; Walkers' 2.5 miles; Shorts' 3.5 miles; Longs' 7 miles. Stay out as long as possible as we don't yet know the half-life of Wetfart's SBD".

 

Verdafukdidweego?

Firstly, an apology. I usually do the Longs' and hence The Words tend to record only what happened on the Longs' trail. The names of the usual FRB's are repeated week in and week out. This means that those on the Shorts' and the Walkers' barely get a mention which is a pity. The remedy is simple, Bluebird and I can do the Shorts' and the Walkers' trails. 

 

A better solution would be for a Walker or Short to have a go at the Words. We all have different styles and it would make a welcome change to read someone else's take on the trail once in a while. Please - give it a go. You may just enjoy it!

 

The FRB's who didn't want to clock up the full 7 miles were encouraged to miss the first Long but commit to the second as the views were spectacular. If you weren't too tired, try the third Long but do not miss the second Long.

 

We cantered down the drive and turned right towards Lindridge Park and the first split; Walkers' to the left, Longs' and Shorts' trails to the right. This took the Longs and the Shorts through the tiny hamlet of Humber. I had been speaking with Melonpicker about the Chiefs dismal performance against Leicester Tigers the previous day. Hence I was at the back of the pack. As we passed through Humber on an uphill climb, I passed Smellie, Soapy, Pork Torpedo and Horny. This was to be the first of three times that this would happen over the next 6 miles or so.

 

I passed Piswell and caught up with Broadsheet and, returnee, Fukarewe. This was just before arrows had us bear right and down the lovely farm track that takes us down to the Elizabethan public house at Luton. Fukarewe was looking tanned and healthy as he had just returned from Portugal. Sixteen months of very intermittent running appeared to be a thing of the past as Fukarewe looked very comfortable in his stride. 

 

He would continue to look comfortable for the next 6.4 miles as he and Broadsheet bounded along 2 of the 3 longs that laid ahead of us. In fact, Fukarewe seemed so comfortable that it was a job to get past him!

 

Somewhere, way in front, were Beeflicker and Wood-Lend. I would not see them again till the bar. Just before the Elizabethan there was our first check. Polyfella was running back from the direction of the Elizabethan shouting, "False trail". I kicked it out only to find Wet-Johnny stopped in the middle of the track with a twig in his hand. Was he water divining I asked?

 

Apparently not but I never did find out what he was doing. The three of us carried on for a few yards, crossing a muddy puddle, before coming to the first Long/Short split.

 

The Longs went right and up the steep road towards Teignmouth golf course. The Shorts turned left and back, on road, towards the Elizabethan. The Longs was a simple loop that rejoined the Shorts at a T-junction bend just west of Luton. 

 

The trail then took both the Longs and the Shorts towards Ideford but, at a hairpin bend we arrived at the second Long/Short split. This was a cunning but jolly long loop. Little did we know that had we gone just 50 yards to our left we would have rejoined the Shorts. 

 

As it was, the Longs went right and up and up Rixafer Road. At this point, I could just see Wet Johnny and Polyfella in front. Over a mile of steepish incline, overtaking Smellie, Pork Torpedo and Horny for the second time. Just past Rixford Manor the last of the Long/Short splits. 

 

The Shorts went left for about 300 yards along the lower edge of Ideford Common before turning left and down a steep and furrowed track called Towerhill Lane. We have been down this track before, but a long, long time ago - maybe 15 years!

 

The Longs continued due north along a lane on open heathland before heading west and then north again onto Ideford Common proper. At this point I had caught up with Broadsheet and Fukarewe who were both going well. 

 

Across the flat common we could still see Wet-Johnny and Polyfella. We had almost reached Colley Lane and the Ashcombe activity centre before the trail went left and ran parallel with the A380 for about 400 yards. We could clearly hear the traffic on the dual carriageway probably some 200 yards to the north of us. 

 

An arrow then had us running down a wet and water eroded track back towards woodland and Rixford Manor. At least we were going downhill at last. The marks were good but broken flint sometimes deceived to look just like flour until one got quite close.

 

Some 200 yards short of Rixford Manor, two arrows, from different directions, confirmed that we had rejoined the Shorts at the top of Towerhill Lane. Shortly thereafter, the Hares had marked a viewpoint. We also noticed a load of timber that had been piled up in the corner of a field. We wondered if this was going to be a coronation beacon? Only time will tell. 

 

The descent down Towerhill Lane was tough going. It was deeply water eroded in its centre. I caught up with Forrest and re-ignited the conversation about Sunday's rugby....."Well, there's always next season".

 

Towerhill Lane took us back into Ideford, past the church. Here I caught up with Well Hopped and followed the trail through Ideford to Luton Cross. Here an arrow took us right and down a minor lane towards Colmansford Bridge. I was on my own again and I could see lights coming towards me, car or motorbike?, I queried to myself. Neither. It was just three young lads out on their electric mountain bikes. Just past Colmansford Bridge there is a turning to the left which I know leads back to the brewery. 

 

However, in the far distance, and on the other side of the valley, I could just make out a Hasher on a different road. It looked rather like Smellie. She must be off trail I thought. Bong. Wrong. At the junction, there was a check and it had been clearly kicked out straight on.

 

Sure enough, some 150 yards up this hill, an arrow had the pack going left and then sharp left on a minor track. It looked vaguely familiar, but from a long, long time ago. After perhaps 300 yards, the track rejoined the road that I knew led back to the brewery. Smellie was just in front and Pork Torpedo, Horny and Soapy were just in front of her.

 

Salvation, at long last - the OH sign.

 

I trotted, well staggered, through Humber where I caught up with the three legged demon duo of Dastardly and Muttley, otherwise known as Arkangel and Bluebird. Both Arkangel and Bluebird were sporting walking sticks. They had, nevertheless, completed the Shorts and clocked up 3.5 miles. Bluebird asked how har I'd been. Squinting at my antiquated Garmin divulged 6.84 miles.

 

"There you go Arkangel. I told you so. The runners are almost always only twice the speed of the Walkers" (Warmfront excepted).

 

By the time we reached the car park, it was getting decidedly dipsy. However, for the first time this year we had managed the entire trail unaided by torchlight. 

 

Finally, just as I had finished changing, Broadsheet and Fukarewe came trotting down the driveway - really looking quite refreshed. Hopefully, Fukarewe is now fully recovered and we should be seeing a lot more of him.

 

Down-Downs

Following the AGPU, we were treated to a new RA for the evening, Pork Torpedo. In time honoured fashion thanked the brewery for the beer. He additionally, thanked Jackie who seems to be perpetually coming out of retirement just to serve TVH3 a pie and a pint. Thank you Jackie.

 

First up was Smellie. She had brought a slightly damp Hashshit shirt back from its holiday in the Czech republic. Despite the miles travelled over the previous fortnight, she had not lost the shirt. As a result, Ladbrokes and Corals had made more money from Hashers betting on a lost shirt than they'd made on Saturday's Grand National. 

 

Smellie recounted stories of the Shirt's international adventures with the Prague Hash. This included a story about a domestic incident regarding the whereabouts of a wife's mobile phone. This involved several hours of backtracking train journeys and false accusations only to find that it had been in her pocket all the time (shades of the Idiot on the Fire Hash). 

 

It is good to know that hash stupidity is not confined to national borders. Obviously the shirt was not going to go to a hasher in the Czech republic. But it might just go to a Hasher who cleared the Circle with his SBD and then proceeded to blame Smellie. Step up Wetfart, and Pork Torpedo launches into, "He ought to be publicly pissed on......"

 

Next up was Beeflicker with the Turkish wedding hat and a story of lost property. Beeflicker had found a bunch of keys for a Honda. Now, Pork Torpedo would have welcomed this piece of information having become available some 40 minutes earlier. 

 

Master locksmith, Pork Torpedo, had just spent these 40 minutes skilfully breaking into a Hasher's car. However, Pork Torpedo was not nearly as thankful as Arkangel was to have been reunited with his keys.

 

The only other award present on the night was the Bacardi hat which Pork Torpedo was safeguarding. This he gave to Smellie who was merrily crossing a piece of private farmland in search of some non-existent marks. "Love me tender. Love me sweet. Wrap your lips etc etc....."

 

One last lonely half looking for a tummy plus a half of water. Were there any stories? Yes. Wetfart had one. This was a story about a posse of Hashers who had ground to a halt as they tried to figure out a route around an awesome puddle. Was it deep? We'll never know.

Whilst they were pondering wet and muddy trainers, Wetfart came around the corner only to tell them that they were off trail. The correct trail was nice and dry and some 15 yards behind them. The guilty parties - Martin and Threesum.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Lord Nelson Kingskerswell and NOT at the good ol' Park as mistakenly advised at the circle, . Our Hares for the evening are Shitfaced and, heavily reliant on his "friends".

 

On-On to next week.

TVH3 The Words for 10th April 2023

The Highweek Inn, Newton Abbot

 

Run. No. 1964

 

HARES: Ernie & Strap-On avec family members

 

 

Who wuz there: Ernie, Strap-On, Forrest Stump, Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Hotlips, Zoot, Soapy, Melonpicker, Beefy, Pisswell, Piltdown Man, Georgy Porgy, Big End, Well Hopped, Triple Jump, Pork Torpedo, Horny, Beeflicker, Slip-on-Me, Strap-Dancer, Bluebird, Wet Johnny, Erection, Piddler, U-Bend, Cold Tits, Fallen Woman (no Broken Man - he was supping ale with Trucker at the Cridford Inn), Rise 'n' Shine, Mateus Rose & (almost virgin) Nine inches!

 

Circle

An unusually busy Easter Monday saw us welcome thirty one hashers and numerous family members of the Hares who were assisting on the sweetie stop. Announcements were brief. Shitfaced had a message from Satnav regarding Teapot. Sadly, his wife, Leslie, was in hospital after suffering a stroke. This would, understandably, result in a further delay before Teapot can rejoin us.

 

Zoot had posted a newspaper article on the TVH3 Facebook page regarding Winfield's and Hovel Annie's 60th wedding anniversary. What an achievement. Well done!

 

Next week's hares also wanted an early indication of numbers wanting a pint and a pie at £5.50 a head. Hungry hashers raised their hands. Piltdown did not raise his hand as high as others and looked more reminiscent of a Hitler Youth salute.

 

The Hares promised us great things. A Walkers' Trail of about 2.5 miles. A Shorts' of circa 4 and the Longs' would be 6'ish (hmmmm.....more about the "ish" bit later). Marks could be on either the left or the right....that's useful! Far more importantly, there would be not be one but two searches for mini-Easter eggs plus the all important sweetie stop. Finally, more hands up for bubble and squeak in the pub.

 

Well, not quite finally. Pork Torpedo arrived late and nearly repeated his parking faux pas from last week. At least this week he could get out even if Horny had to navigate beer kegs in order make it into the circle. Bluebird arrived even later and proceeded to park in a non-existent parking space which prevented circular access and egress from the pub car park. How selfish?

 

Trail

The trail proved to be a counter cyclical lay with the outward Walkers' and Shorts' trail also being the return of the Longs' trail (hence the marks on both the left and right). The Longs' included a monster loop up and down the banks of the River Teign with Beefy clocking up an incredible 8.37 miles on his epic reverse walk on the Longs.

 

The first check was within 200 yards of the pub. The Shorts' and Walkers' went down Whitehill Road while the Longs' carried on along Exeter Road to Highweek church and then diverted onto the footpath below the church and back towards Pithill Road. Left down Pithill Road and left again along a narrow fenced footpath path that runs behind Coombeshead College and exits near Knowles Hill roundabout. 

 

Almost inevitably, Beeflicker was in front with Man-Pig chasing. A missed arrow at the roundabout at the top end of Jetty Marsh Road relegated the Pig to the back of the Longs' whilst Wet-Johnny, Big End, Well Hopped, Forrest Stump and Pisswell continued to chase Beeflicker.

 

The trail went left and followed the cyclepath next to the Stover canal towards Teigngrace. Halfway along this length of pathway, the pack had ground to a halt. It was the first of the Easter Egg hunts. Forrest immediately found two eggs and I think everyone else left empty handed. Determined to get my daily chocolate fix, I hunted, in vain, for the elusive eggs. Again the pack got some 400 yards in front of me and I would not see them again till the sweetie stop.

 

The SS was well manned with Ernie's daughter and grand-daughter as well as Strap-On, Strap-Dancer and Ernie himself. Some of the Shorts were still there, some had yet to arrive. Chocolate mini Easter eggs - lovely. The FRB's had already embarked on the Longs' just before I arrived at the sweetie stop.

 

For the third time, I was some 400 yards in arrears. Little did I know then that this would be the last time I'd see them in the next four miles! Pisswell and the Pig left the SS simultaneously and followed the cycle path north to just before Teigngrace. Here I noticed Wet-Johnny on a reverse trail (this proved to be the Walkers' and Shorts' outward trail) whilst Forrest SCB'd by sneaking across the canal and railway at Teigngrace station. 

 

The Longs' trail was marked east and across two fields and then downstream following the meandering Teign. Apparently, all FRB's assumed (incorrectly as it turned out) that we would join the Exeter Road, turn right and backtrack along the outward trail. BONG! WRONG!

 

Perplexingly, as I got nearer to the Exeter Road, I could hear the FRB's calling. However, they sounded as though they were to the left of me and on the other side of the Teign. Shirley not. The next crossing point is a mile back up the way we had just run but on the east bank. Sure enough, I got to the Exeter Road (close to where we usually park) only to find an arrow....LEFT!? 

 

Over the new pedestrian bridge we coursed and left again onto the upstream riverbank path. Pisswell was some 600 yards behind so I kept calling to give her some (dis) encouragement. This was going to be longer than the 6'ish miles I thought - although I had not brought my Garmin with me and I hadn't turned on Strava on the phone either.

 

Eventually, after slipping and sliding my way upstream, I got to the first bridge. Thankfully, an arrow confirmed this as the correct crossing point. I had expected to catch glimpse of the FRB's once I was on the west bank - but nothing. Then, in the distance, a yellow hi-vis. I was catching them up. Or was I? It soon dawned on me that this hi-vis was coming towards me. "Lost trail?" I thought. No. It was Beefy who was walking the Longs trail but in reverse. He was also looking for Pisswell who was probably some 800 yards behind at this point. The marks were good though. There shouldn't have been much chance of anyone getting lost. But, you can never tell with Hashers. A brief exchange of pleasantries, including Beefy's doubts as to whether he'd be back in time for the Down-Downs, and we both went on our merry ways.

 

As expected, the trail followed the Teign before crossing three fields, passing the basin on the Stover Canal and rejoining tarmac at Ventiford Lodge. Arrows then had us on road for the rest of the trail. The road between Ventiford Lodge and the Exeter Road is a very minor road. There is only Hope Farm, Teigngrace and the caravan park at Twelve Oaks Farm along its route. Nevertheless, four or five cars passed in the space of a mile.

 

The marks began to get a little confusing. They were on both the left and the right and, from Teigngrace onwards, most marks on the right were arrows with a big "L" below them. This was where the Longs were running against the Shorts' outward trail. 

 

By the time that we'd hit the Exeter Road for the third (strictly fourth) time, I'd caught up with Beeflicker, Big End and Well Hopped who had run out of marks. "Go right", it's the shortest route back to the pub". Sure enough, we found marks. The trail finished by climbing up Whitehill Road which took us almost back to the pub.

 

Six'ish miles! Well, I ask you?

 

Down-Downs

Forrest was RA for the evening. He commenced by thanking the pub for the beer. He then asked what we all thought of the trail? "A great sweetie stop!"

 

Man-Pig was the first up to give away his award from last week. There were a number of potential candidates. Smellie for planning to travel back from her holidays in Prague on a bank holiday Monday when there were no trains running. She was stuck in Dover. Two SCB contenders comprising Forrest and Wet-Johnny. But the winner, by a mile (or should that be fathom?), was Pork Torpedo who had fallen in the river, albeit, not today but some twenty years past. It made no difference as PT had to sing his own Down-Down song. It was something about a magic lantern that wasn't very magic. Well, what do you expect if you buy something from a Hasher?

 

Next up was Slip-on-Me who had the Turkish wedding hat. This was awarded to Beeflicker who had left some underwear in Slip-on-Me's car. Raised eyebrows all round. Even more eyebrow raising was to come. This was not even male underwear. It was a pair of girlie socks! Pork Torpedo carried on with the story of the dodgy magic lamp. Something to do with the Sultan's camel and a secret hidey-hole.

 

Bluebird had the Jester's Hat but no story as he hadn't seen a soul on his truncated walking trail. Hence he deferred to Forrest to make up a story on his behalf. 

 

Forrest recounted the story of the dizzying heights that some Hashers will go to in the pursuit of personal grooming post trail. This particular hasher had moved the front passenger seat as far forward as it would go and then climbed in the back of their car to get changed. How bashful. This must be a Harriet. The hasher rubbed themselves down very thoroughly with a soft pink towel....definitely a Harriet....and then proceeded to apply various fragrances to various body parts. Antiperspirant for pits. Hairspay and just a hint of perfume for the pub. This must be a young Harriet looking for a mate....it is spring after all. Some 40 minutes later the culprit emerged from their car, smelling of roses and looking like.....errr, well, an elderly gentleman.

 

The guilty party.....Piddler! Songmeister PT immediately came up with, "Old McDonald had tourettes".

 

One last lonely half looking for a tummy. There were two hares and at least four helpers at the sweetie stop. Who should have the beer? Eventually, Ernie managed to foist it onto a reluctant Strap-On as co-hare.

 

Next week

Next week's Hash is at The Red Rock Brewery, Humber. Our Hares for the evening are Big End and Well Hopped. Don't forget to get your orders in for a pie and a pint asap.

 

On-On to next week, MP.