THE TERROR OF THE TEIGN CROSSING ON SAFARI WITH FUKARWI

Run #1846 Monday 28th September from Stover Country Park with hare Wigwam

An ominous rumbling materialized and hashers turned in horror to see the sinister, diesel spewing outline of the trundling Panzerkampfwagen mit der Rottenführer Bobby Woll at the wheel. A spontaneous (sotto voce of course to comply mit das covid-19 regulation) rendition of Bobby Woll, Bobby Woll, broke out as the much decorated tank commander approach-ed. 

 

After making two tours of the congested car park area and inflicting major damage on three scout cars, a scowling Bobby made a strategic retreat to the main car park...

 

But enough of this idle chit-chat, back to the safari trail..

 

The Country Park Safari proved to be a popular (guaranteed) holiday destination:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgy, Teapot (hooray!), SatNav, 3Sum, Beefy, BroadS, Fukarwi (hooray again!), SM Ellie, Soapy, Melon Picker, Popeye, sporting a smart new coiffure, Wigwam, Bobby Woll, Gaga4It, Triple Jump, Able, Forrest, Wood Lend, Wet Johnny, Erection, Ravi, Manpig, BB, Big End, Well Hopped, Dad, Coldtits, Archangel (eventually!), I-Poo'd, T Humper, Jane, Screwed (no Bella, confined to barracks with injury poor girl) AND not forgetting Strap-On - I did!

 

Time for a catch-up with Safari Ranger Wiggy before the hash arrived and arrive they did in some force, quickly filling the tiny car park to capacity. A light drizzle fell and it was tricky getting the attendees as some stayed in their cars. Thanks Beefy for the vid clip.

 

There was to be no mass circle as the Grand Master and hare began dispatching hashers onto the trail as they became available.

 

They said he wouldn't come back, they said he shouldn't come back, but there he was at long last, the venerable Teapot, taking no chances and wearing a head encompassing goldfish bowl. We bid you welcome back indeed!

 

Then a cry rang out from the mauled Bobby Woll survivors: 'Shirley that's Fukarwi over there!' And yes, there was no mistaking the outline of the celebrity, feared lost to mankind and hashing.

 

But no time to chat, you dirty rats, and the hash hero was sent rat-packing towards the lake. Last to arrive were Soapy, Mawgan and Melon Picker and the game was Shirley at least a foot long... No? Well...

 

A few walking crew were still getting themselves organized for the country park safari and only two warrior longs tarried - Beefy, waiting for a possible arrival of a virgin hasher and a fidgeting Bird.

They could linger no longer and at last, the full hash caravan, covid-19 spread out all over the park, was underway, Wiggy. 

 

I have to report that the Wiggster had removed himself from the locale to get back for the Liverpool - Arsenal footie game but he would ultimately be the unsung (but beer glass toasted) hero of the evening.

 

THE SAFARI

After smashing his knee on an unforgiving granite rock the day before, Beefy was taking it fairly easy but the terrain was hashing heaven to his companion - flat, fast and plenty of tarmac - AHHHHHHH purred the Bird*.

 

Barely half a mile in and there was Fukarwi, walking (!) and having a chat with Piltdown, Georgy and Teapot. We thought you might be unfit, but really Fukarwi - but more on him later. 

The blast on Teapot's horn was the first sounded since early March and I went all Play Misty for Me (1971).

 

Through the scattered ranks we sliced, calling when passage was needed. Virtually on rails did we So Cruise as checks had been responsibly kicked out and gradually we moved through the hashing carnival caravan. Screwed looked lonely without Bella and SatNav and 3Sum were having their usual natter.

 

Towards the sharp end, a drama was about to unfold. A doughty advance party arrived on the shores of a mighty expanse of water, stretching as far as the head torch illuminated eye could see. 'Shirley we cannot proceed', did they mutter in awe.

 

Back they fled in confusion (you know who you were Shirley Popeye and Erection to name but two) and scattered into surrounding hedgerows seeking refuge from the great flood. 

 

Arriving soon after, the rearguard, men of steel, (well man really, as the Bird is quite timid as you know) rallied the wide-eyed mini-throng. 'What's occurring out there t' t' teddy bears?' 'A mighty lake, so deep and wide - Shirley it can't be crossed!' But reinforced and regaining their courage, the party came once again to the shores of the terrifying Teign.

 

Carrying the tattered standard, a lone warrior advanc-ed into the swirling depths - all six inches that is... sigh

 

Fifty feet of paddling and dry land was reached and once more unto the hash, dear friends, once more... I don't know Sooty, what do you think Sweep?

 

Sa fari so good and the level crossing, de rigueur for many a hash hereabouts, appeared on cue to the left. A baying hound from the adjacent house alarmed but railwayman Beefy knew the occupants and we would Shirley pass unharmed.

 

It was plain sailing, or so we thought, as another kicked out check was espied. However, it had been kicked out in two directions. Advancing in the direction of the the most heavily 'kicked', we were met by an oncoming light - Forrest and his faithful Muttley - oh well, it was worth a try, Forrest..

 

The novelty cum fun section revealed itself as the trail veered sharply off trail into the trees. A vertical six foot drop wasn't as much fun as the Bird had hoped and Beefy stood by to pick up the pieces. It was great fun wandering in the tepee - or Wigwam - strewn sector though, which gave sufficient time for the gang to catch up.

 

Rejoining the path, two shadowy figures - Wet Johnny and Wood Lend - dashed across the safariteers** from off trail and it was only at the stewards enquiry that the story emerged. Going off first, Wet Johnny had linked up with Big End (sans Ned who was with Dad), Well Hopped and Wood Lend and for some reason unknown, they had decided on doing a lap of the lake before taking on the trail proper.

Most unexpectedly, the On Home appeared at about four point five miles and Plan B was executed by a select band of said safariteers***..

 

So let it be written, so let it be done Shirley. Manpig, Beefy, Fukarwi (yes, he had rejoined after his catch-up) BroadS and the Bird set off Once More Unto the Breach, Oh Dear Friends Everywhere.

Around the lake and Soapy, Mawgan and Melon P were sighted, Wandering Lonely as a Cloud but evidently enjoying the excursion.

 

The lights from the car park flickered through the trees and Shirley that was the end, but in a curious twist of fate, it nearly turned into the End is Nigh.... sigh [sic]

Gaga4It and Triple Jump strangely (we thought) called out as we passed: 'Where are you going?' We thought no more of it until... we lurched out onto the main Bovey Road! A hundred and fifty yard dash for survival ensued as the Famous Five legged it down the road towards the safety of the country park.

The sound of vehicles close behind forced the Bird to take an impromptu short cut through the hedge into the car park which nearly ended in disaster. But hey, we were only home!

 

A beer or two was required for some and, for one reason or another, the Star at Liverton resembled a ghost town, being eerily empty. Bobby and the Bird plumped for the Sharps Atlantic pale ale 4.5 abv as we feared the Sea Fury might be a bit rough - No? Well...

 

At a range of a hundred feet, semaphore signals were employ-ed to communicate with Popeye et cetera..

 

POSTSCRIPT

My, we Shirley had fun out there on safari with Fukarwi and the rest of the hash. The trail had something to cater for all tastes and many were the words of praise I heard during and after the event. Thanks Wiggy, you did us proud - as always.

 

*Can a Bird purr Shirley?

**I hereby claim coining the word.

***I like it, I like it Captain Mainwaring.

 

ON ON hopefully, to next Monday 5th October from Ipplepen Football Club, Moor Road Playing Fields, Moor Road, Newton Abbot TQ12 5TT with Wet Johnny and co. Detailed instructions to follow.

Monday's details:

Run #1846 Monday 28th September 7:15 pm from Stover Country Park CP TQ12 6QG situated 300 metres south of the Drumbridges roundabout. Our hare is Wigwam. Do not forget your head torch, they are a must now.

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 that once you have completed your run or walk, that is the end of the Teign Valley hash trail. If any individuals choose to use any pub facilities afterwards, then it is done by their personal choice. If a pub offers food, then it is up to individuals to organise themselves and is not part of the Hash. To give us an idea of numbers, please indicate on post if you are attending. Thank you.

MADNESS REIGNS IN THE RAVINE OF DEATH

Run #1845 from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with hares Forrest and Manpig

'I'm late, I'm late, for a most important date...' did I mutter incoherently as I sped towards Trusham, en route for the Cridford Inn. 'Try and park in the village!' Forrest's advice was etched firmly in my mind. Not if I'm in time in my tiny chariot..

 

A place, a place, my kingdom for a place! Paranoia had Shirley set in early, Oh Dearly Having a Panic, but there was a place next to Manpig's pantechnicon (special dispensation as he was Shirley hare). Seconds later, caps were tipped as the Grand Master Himself arrived in a cloud of dust and slotted in alongside. Didulikethat? No? Well...

 

From every hidey-hole, nook and cranny within Trusham, hashers wended their way, circle-bound. Amidst the phalanx of Penners shone a jacket so bright and clean - Shirley not used for many a moon.. Why yes, heeeere's ROXANNE!

 

𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔..

 

Proudly did Red Light Roxanne enter the car park, escorted by his motley crew: Poker faced assassin Wet Johnny with Erection [definitely sic] - no you fools, pay attention now! and Ravi - he came back, a man like him...

 

And there was a face I recalled, the hasher who sav-ed my life* from this very pub and I rack my brains trying to recall what we named him on April 29th 2019 Run #1792**. Well, it's just Chris for now but another merely magnificent mover to watch out for on trail.

 

Mine eyes discerned:

Piltdown, Georgie, GM Shitfaced, 3Sum, SatNav, Roxanne, Ravi, Erection, Wet Johnny, Polyfella, Popeye, Olive (AH3), Gaga4It, Manpig, Forrest, Wood Lend, Chris, Strap-On, SM Ellie, Big End, Well Hopped, Screwed, BB, Beefy, Pisswell, Archangel, Coldtits, 69, Triple Jump (welcome back).

 

Circle spaced summoned, Manpig and Forrest dispensed details of the upcoming saga: A long, about six miles, a short and supporting walkers pick me up, all laid mainly on the right in Forrest best sawdust. Wagons rock 'n' roll!

 

The L/S split was laid merely a hundred yards or so up the hill and so it began, the duel in the setting sun o'er Trusham. Come on, do ya feel lucky, Popeye? Well do ya!

 

Oh Ye Hashing Gods On High, the FRBs were Shirley on a kamikaze mission. In a blur, Wet Johnny, Beefy, Chris, Polyfella and Wood Lend had only gone for it and rapidly disappeared from view down in the darkening hollows of the Goblin Wood.

 

Fearing a fall and not so nimble as he was fifty years ago, the Bird doggedly tried to limit his losses, though close behind, Popeye called encouragement: 'You're going like Twinkletoes BB!' I wish my son...

 

Fortunately for the flightless one, the technical off road section petered out and resurrection road resum-ed, Roxanne.

 

Cometh the hills, cometh the Big End... I had a bad feeling when Ned, red LED attired, cantered gaily past on the half mile heartbreak hill, as Shirley Big End would be close behind. And so he was tobesure tobesure and the Bird wiped a tear from his anguished eye as the doughty hasher climbed like a stag, leaving most toiling in his wake.

 

Strap-On was having a right go-go in hot company; 3Sum managed a morale-boosting run round after her recent op; Screwed and Bella were out and about again and Archangel, he of the late arrival, was destined to complete the long, ravine and all!

 

Two miles in and another check to fool the FRBs, yet another triumph for the wily Manpig. 'He's one of us after all!' the FRBs agreed. Wood Lend had not come back from scouting, so with cutlasses drawn, down we plunged into the boondocks.

 

I am sorry lads, but I wasn't paying attention and failed to see the footpath on the right and had to be summoned back from my reckless excursion by Beefy. Oh the shame of it... But SM Ellie was quite pleased to make contact with us again - it can get lonely out there, can't it!

 

Over a gate into the red diesel aroma farm and a flurry of head torches appeared on the far side of the field - Shirley the shorts, though Manpig was a bit perplexed pubside as he didn't think the trails overlapped, but Forrest, apparently laying independently, was just as cunning as his co-hare..

 

Twists and turns, varied terrain and 'interesting' gradients kept us on our toes (literally). Beefy detached up the road aways and it was the merry band of Big End, Ned, Well Hopped, the Bird and Chris - still looking magnificent but with a few frays appearing as the hills began to take their toll - who continued into the unknown reaches of the Teign valley.

 

What goes up must Shirley go down and an arrow left took us down, Way Way Down to - I don't believe it, we've done it again!

 

Wearily, the house owner came out to enquire if we were Desperately Seeking the footpath and kindly directed Chris and the Bird back up the hill.

 

And there it was, the deadly Ravine of Death and what suffering did it inflict on the hapless longs.. sigh

We came upon Wet Johnny, looking for a possible exit up into the high field on the right where, unbeknown to us, the shorts were having a gay day, skirting the gruesome gully.

 

Delirium set in and a demented howling could be discerned from the deepest depths of the ravine and an unknown hasher began to recite (some said babble) the epic poem 'The Salutation'***. If things were dread down there before, they quickly became desperate as hashers tried to flee the torment.

Caught between a rock-strewn gully and the demented reciter, Erection and Ravi endured until mercifully, the echoes faded into the distance...

 

Arriving in higher Trusham, a suspicious little huddle had assembled at a check. Polyfella began searching up the hill - away from the pub - and then we descended to within a stone's throw from the beer, whereupon another check tantalized. Beefy was disappointed that the fun didn't continue, but the ON HOME was eventually shouted and thus we had finished quite an adventurous and eventful trail. 𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗬 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗦!

 

The shape of things to come at the Cridford as Paul the landlord took orders when individuals were seated at the 'six a table MAX' - did you get that Popeye?

 

*Pulling me to safety as I tried to jump the Ravine of Death.

**We tried a naming but failed, such was the uproar made by various harriets!

***Search for it in vain, for it is not listed on the much vaunted and assumed all-knowing internet.

 

A tremendous Trusham trail, and, Oh Dearly Hold Your Breath and Fingers Tightly Crossed, unless you hear differently:

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to next week, Monday 28th September from the Stover Country Park car park with Hare Wigwam.

MONDAY'S DETAILS

Run #1845 Monday 21st September from the Cridford Inn, Trusham, TQ13 0NR with hares Forrest and Manpig. PLEASE remember that once you have completed your run or walk, that is the end of the Teign Valley hash trail. If any individuals choose to use pub facilities afterwards then it is done by their personal choice. If a pub offers food then it is up to individuals to organise themselves and is not part of the Hash. To give us an idea of numbers, please indicate on post if you are attending. Thank you

A TROPICAL TRAIL, THE RETURN OF THE BRAVE & A FINE PINT

 

Run #1844 Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor with Hare Pisswell

𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙙, 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙙, 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜, 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙚𝙚.

𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙤 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙒𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙚 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧

𝙒𝙞’ 𝙋𝙞𝙡𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙚, 𝙋𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙄=𝙋𝙤𝙤'𝙙, 𝙏 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙧, 𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙇𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙥𝙞𝙜, 𝙕𝙚𝙣, 𝙒𝙚𝙩 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙣𝙮, 𝙫𝙞𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙣 𝙍𝙖𝙫𝙞, 𝙀𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙛𝙮, 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙀𝙣𝙙, 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙, 𝘿𝙖𝙙, 𝙎𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙬𝙚𝙙, 𝙋𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙧, 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝘿𝙤𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧, 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙉𝙖𝙫, 𝘼𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙂𝙖𝙜𝙖4𝙞𝙩, 𝙎𝙈 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚, 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙥-𝙊𝙣, 𝘽𝘽, 𝙁𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙈𝙖𝙣, 𝙋𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙮𝙚, 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙋, 69 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙞𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙮,

𝙊𝙡𝙙 𝙐𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡

𝙊𝙡𝙙 𝙐𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡

 

No? Well please...

 

Come on, let's get this show on the road with another quick chorus to rouse the troops to action:

 

𝑯𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆

𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 (𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆) 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒊𝒎

 

A military operation had to be mounted to get to the Rugglestone, high up on the moor and a feeling of great anticipation prevailed throughout the day. Oh Yes, Dearly I Don't Get Out Very Often, Monday is undoubtedly the highlight of the week for many.

 

The Penners had finally broken radio silence and avowed to make this hash and other MIA had also pledged reinforcing the barricades.

 

Keeping religiously way under the speed limit over the moor - 40 mph way too fast - as roamin' cows, sheep and ponies all over the shop, I was pleased that there was a space for the chariot in the Rugglestone's congested car park just before seven.

 

Pisswell had promised that she wouldn't lead us into any bogs (shame that) and what with the heatwave and weather assur-ed, we were set Widecombe Fair for a glorious night, Oh Dearly Why Didn't You Make It?

 

Interesting chat with ParaP about Haldon aerodrome in WW2 and a quick catch-up with the regulars. However, the main talking point was the return of the Penners, Wet Johnny (looking ominously fit), Erection (still slimline) (Manopause nursing injury) and a new Penner, Ravi. Welcome back lads, we really missed you! 

 

And they weren't the only returnees - Wood Lend, Gaga4it, Big End, Well Hopped and Dad returned at long last and I only spotted Zen after the run as he was a bit late for the circle I think. Pisswell had brought along a virgin hasher and apologies if I missed anyone else. Pause for breath..

 

The Grand Master's chariot was tardy and the crew were trying to find a space, but with time a pressing and light a fading, Piltdown got on with proceedings - handing over to our hare of the evening, Pisswell of the Moors.

 

One L/S split, keeping to the footpaths and avoiding the bogs of certain death, the long about six miles and the short about three. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

 

As has been the norm for the past five hashes, there was a staggered start with small groups (maximum of six) setting off at intervals onto the trail.

 

The usual trailblazers, Plonker (last hash until December - can't say Christmas as apparently there isn't one this year) and Artful hadn't arriv-ed so the Bird felt lucky and pinged out onto the welcoming tarmac.

 

Things were going swimmingly until the first check where the Bird played the game checking but chose wrong and was ignominiously shuffled to the rear.

 

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏, 𝒔𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉*

 

SM Ellie and Strap-On were going for gold and then round the bend appeared Popeye, going like the clappers and furtively looking over his shoulder to check who was screaming to the gods on high. 

 

Up ahead was Manpig making a good fist of things as was his wont and then an ominous patter of feet came from behind. Oh please let it be Beefy and not..... Arghhh, NO-OO, it's WET JOHNNY!

 

Dressed all in black, the hash assassin swept past with nary a sideways glance, never to be seen again... Sigh, back to the drawing board, Beefy.

 

But never mind, the mysterious moor beckoned, and teaming up with Manpig, we left the trickle of tarmac, shedding a farewell tear.

 

Wood Lend plus two tiny Baskervilles joined our tiny band and immediately we lost the trail. Big End, Well Hopped and Popeye arrived and spreading out, we searched for clues.

 

I did fear for Manpig as he approached a rather large cow which stood its ground, glaring at the intruder.

 

Trail found and resum-ed, on we coursed through many a gate and over high stiles galore.

 

The last vestiges of light retreated and the head torches were illuminated as we continued into the realms of darkness. Not really a place to be on your own and I was glad that I had companions.

 

'ROAD!' did the Bird scream triumphantly on several occasions only to groan as the marks almost immediately resumed onto the purple moor. But what the heck, it was gloriously warm, underfoot was dry and I had no idea where we were, Oh Dearly Never a Moan. Oh bury me here should I fall one night... and I Shirley did a few minutes later.

 

And many were the adventures the three hashers and two muttlies had before the garden lights of the Rugglestone were espied far below.

 

Descending a steep (tarmac) hill, another patter of feet closed fast astern and there was Plonker who had somehow mislaid Artful en route.

 

And then suddenly we crashed into Widecombe crossroads and a quick burst on the banjo saw us back into the car park. Olé!

 

We found out later the reason why Beefy hadn't overhauled us. He had been sweeping the trail to make doubly sure that none had gone astray. I believe there was a slight suspicion that Coldtits might have arrived late and was on trail but she messaged that she could not make the hash, so all was well.

 

Five and a half miles and an hour of fun on a tropical, adventure trail with at least one spill.** It was great, Pisswell, we really enjoyed it. Very worthwhile and memorable. Thank you.

 

I cannot really say that the Rugglestone was welcoming as it was closed inside but taking drinks orders at the door. Manpig and I plumped for the Butcombe and my word, what a fine pint it was. We supped and appreciated a couple - beers that is - in the garden before wending our way back home across the moor. Quite an evening.

 

Thank you for the words of encouragement, Wood Lend, appreciated.

 

*From one of the finest poems I have read: 'The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes. Shirley worth a read.

**He who shall be nameless came a purler in some far-flung meadow.

 

ON ON to next Monday 21st September from the Cridford Inn at Trusham with hares Forrest and Manpig.

MONDAY 14TH SEPTEMBER

 Run #1844 Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor TQ13 7TF with hare Pisswell. Parking will be limited in the car park (opposite) and so the pub suggests parking in the village car park which is free and a short warm up run to pub. Once again, can I ask that you indicate on this post whether you will be attending the trail. Thank you everyone and thank goodness we can still continue our beloved hashing.

FIVE HASHES AND NO FUNERAL

  Run #1843 Monday 7th September from the Wild Goose Inn with Birthday Gal T Humper

With a barely concealed snarl of rage, Bobby Woll wrestled the Panzerkampfwagen into the tiny village car park, ignoring the large overhead sign KEINE PANZERS HIER*... Yes, Oh Dearly Dismayed, the Rottenführer was still Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

A fine turnout as follows:

GM Shitfaced, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Strap-On, Archangel, Manpig, Beefy, Piltdown, Georgie P, SM Eliie, Wigwam, Coldtits, Wetfart, Beefy, Fallen Woman, Broken Man, Slip on Me, Plonker, Artful Dogger with Reuben the pooch making his hash debut, #69, Forrest, BroadS, Able and two virgins - Jane (GM's auntie) and Joey (another TBGS recruit brought along by Artful) and, appearing post-run but having run, was SatNav making a grand total of twenty seven hashers true.

An official circle was formed up (plenty of room to distance) and the Grand Master addressed the multitude. Birthdays two would be reveal-ed later and I-Poo'd's famed alcoholic steeped confections would also be on offer.

With the glad tidings dispensed, the GM handed over to the Official Hare for the evening - T Humper.

One L/S split, a long of five miles, a short of four and a walkers' exercise of one and a half was on the menu.

However, Oh Dearly Confus-ed, the local Bird had been enlisted to mule the flour around the long. The trails had been laid on Sunday and such was the madding crowd gadding about, it seemed like a good idea to send a live hare out to live lay some sections of the trail... Sigh

A smattering of head torches were on show, though Beefy was prematurely advised by He who shall be Nameless that they wouldn't be needed...Double sigh

Thus the hashers of war were let slip and the wiles of the trail beckoned - but back to them later, Oh Dearly Hang on a Sec...

The bandana clad Wiggy and Forrest spearheaded the serried ranks of intermingled shorts and walkers as the live hare, carrying a 1.5 kg of flour, legged it up Slackery en route for the river. Time was of the essence, as the greyhounds would Shirley devour the Bird if he tarried Larry.

Meanwhile, back with the charging longs, a turbo charged Plonker had lit the FRBs up and with eyes narrowed and red visor down he led the warriors up the rise en route to Stoke. Half a mile later, the OH marker was sighted - arrowed towards them and mighty were the wails that echoed down the valley. Oh Yes, Oh Dearly Hold Your Hands Up, the Bird brain had Blue-footed booby** bird boobed.

The longs had failed to see the faded grey cat litter marks turning into the footpath after two hundred yards. Yes, I know (now) it should have been a check but didn't want it there when the trail came back on itself.

But never mind, shades of The Bard, methinks I do protest...

Cut back to the hash vanguard and gaily didst the prancing Bird continue his guileless fool's errand, liberally dispensing flour as if it had gone out of fashion (it was ruddy heavy mush, if you must know).

Amongst the elephant grass

The hashers hurtled past

Confronted with the L1 L2 impasse

The legion stood aghast...**

For those that were there - if they care, the L legend explain-ed:

L1 = A Walk on the Wild Side and L2 = Sod it, let's just get on with it. 

The first L1 took the intrepid disposed onto the now overgrown but former footpath skirting through the woods beside Netherton House before merging with the Templer Way.

The second L1 had been intended as a 'beat the tide' section but proved to be a gentle meander along the sand into Hearn Field.

IN TRAIL

Fallen Woman did well to get round the multi-terrain short of over four miles as did Piltdown, Georgie and Coldtits, who had to rush back for the mother-in-law back at the homestead. We were blessed with lovely weather and timely sunset with great views over the Teign en route.

By Arch Brook VP (as identified in flour) they paused to wonder before the brave stumbled up the Teignharvey 'road' Stoke bound. The tarmac worshippers' prayer was answered with the plunge down Forches Hill and the road run in back to the Goose. Goodbye, that's all he wrote.

 

By the way, how did you all fare with the 'water jump' just before Forches Hill? Pretty nasty if you were going too fast!

Finally released from his floury impost, the Bird fled, fearfully looking over his shoulder for the pursuing horde which never appeared.

Yes, Oh Dearly I told You So, a few did make the car park in the fast fading light but darkness reigned when the longs finally completed their journey. My apologies all you longs - my error, not yours.

Opening just for us, the Goose was welcoming and the whisper had already gone out - They've got Legend!

The 'bring your own grub' route was generous indeed by the management and a table was set for the de luxe confectionery and birthday cake for T Humper and Forrest - Happy Birthday to both!

I had brought most of a Mediterranean Vegetable Quiche (left over from Dear old Mum's meal) which was sampled by so many that I was left with a tiny morsel.

*No Panzers here!

**Yes, a real bird - I did not know that.

***It looked so good when I typed it after 4 pints of Leg End. Now I'm not so sure Shirley.

POSTSCRIPT

Well, after completing five hashes after the End of the World darkness, the dread news on Tuesday sent shock waves through the hashing fraternity. GM Shitfaced collapsed on his sofa in a beer-induced coma after unwisely communicating with a demented Bird - sorry about that GM but I was on the liquid of life as well.

As for the words, they were not possible. A dread malaise took hold and morbid were my thoughts. But better late than ... sorry everyone.

So, finally, in the words of the Prophet Gerry, singalong with me:

When you hash through a storm

Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of a hash
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark

Hash on through the wind
Hash on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Hash on, hash on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never hash alone..

The punchline quite simply: FIVE HASHES AND NO FUNERAL

ON ON to Monday 14th September from the Rugglestone Inn, Widecombe in the Moor with Hare Pisswell.

IMPORTANT INFO for Mondays hash:

Run #1843 Monday 7th September from the Wild Goose Inn at Combeinteignhead TQ12 4RA with T Humper. The pub is opening especially for us. There will not be food available but you are welcome to bring your own sandwiches etc. Please indicate here if you are going. Thank you.

Please do not try to approach the Wild Goose from the Teignmouth Road down Stoke Road via Stokeinteignhead as the road is closed just before the Church House Inn and you will not be able to get through. Fine to go Ringmore Road from Shaldon end or the Newton Abbot approach via Netherton.

WW2 AIRFIELD REVISITED, DAS PANZERKAMPFWAGEN TRUNDLES AGAIN & A HOCKNEY MASTERPIECE

Run #1842 Monday 31st August from Little Haldon, OD Devon Arms, Teignmouth

At long last, after miraculously surviving yet another world 'war', das Panzerkampfwagen trundled into the shell hole masquerading as a car park at Little Haldon. Oh Yes, Oh Dearly Distressed, reports of Bobby's demise had Shirley been exaggerated. Struggling out of the unMOTable, black smoke belching machine of woe, the Rottenführer stood tall without his de rigueur Heroes of Telemark ski poles.*

If you couldn't spot the turn-off into the shell hole, you Shirley couldn't miss the imposing figure of Piltdown Man at the entrance, waving the Panzers in.

The final roll-call:

Piltdown, Georgie P, Manpig, Beefy, Strap-on, Wetfart, SM Ellie, Bobby, Polyfella, Melon Picker, Soapy, Ollie (welcome back the aforementioned five), Artful Dogger, Plonker, Pisswell, BroadS, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Screwed, BB.  Slip on Me - 21 in all.

I was too far away to hear the hares' trail briefing so missed the finer points of the exercise but had an uneasy feeling of what lay in store out there in the wilds of Little Haldon.

Blessed release and the shorts were Shirley shuffled out of the back of the shell hole while the longs surged majestically out onto the tarmac and hard right up the dividing lane between the golf course and the former Teignmouth aerodrome.

The majesty was short-lived however, as a rather pernicious check halted the cavalry in their tracks. The FRBs were dispatched and at long last the ON ON was called - into the scrub heath of the 1940's airfield. Oh the pain of the off-road, Oh Dearly I Did Not Like It Up Me and the tarmac loving Bird was reduced to a mere shuffle as the Young Guns, Manpig, Beefy and Polyfella swept by.

But never mind, it was called hashing and it was a last, lingering, lovely evening of a tormented summer on planet Earth, Oh Dearly Waxing Lyrical.

The mini tour of the airfield completed, we were back to where we had nearly started at the B3192 and there was Piltdown to shepherd his flock across the murderous Highway to Heaven.

As we passed, Piltdown gave the secret code: 'At the solar panel farm, make sure..' and the rest of the message was swallowed by the wind.

Off into the woods we plunged and a quick chat with Polyfella as nettles and twisting paths were negotiated at pace.

Into the clear and the solar panel farm loom-ed large in the gunsight  It was fortunate indeed that Artful Dogger was there already to reveal the vital missing part of the message. 'Keep to the outside of the field.' Well done that man! And there it was - a well concealed gap in the hedge and the trail true.

Meanwhile, several minutes earlier, Plonker had careered into the clearing and sped past the solar panels. He was still smoothly accelerating towards Dawlish Water before he realized that there may be a problem Houston.. sigh.

Hurdling logs and swerving round shorts - Hi Bobby, Georgy, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Spud, Wetfart, Ollie - we lurched towards the advertised attraction of the VP and Beefy photo-op. The Heroes of Telemark were being arranged just as a renegade mix 'n' match S/L peered round the corner. Oh generously indeed did Beefy welcome the interloper** into his framed creation.

The finished Hockney style artwork reveal-ed five semi-silhouetted figures set against a dramatic cloud formation with the setting sun astride the horizon. The dying orange shafts pierced and accentuated the figures - Oh bravo, Beefy, a masterpiece Shirley!

But I digress and back to the action. Out onto a back lane we emerged with a make your minds up check. Down, way way down or up, that was the question. Beefy and the Bird hovered [sic] while Artful Dogger, abetted by Manpig 'It could be down and right,' decided to risk it and go as biscuits. Polyfella drifted up and calls came back from both directions: ON ONE - ON TWO... Melon Picker appeared and enquired what the odds were. 'Four to seven up' came the bookmaking Bird's reply and satisfied with that, Melon went up.

It all went horribly quiet down the hill and then Polyfella called ON ON and we left the hapless duo to their sad fate...sigh.

Spiralling down into the woods, I was glad I had brought the head torch as a tumble was on the cards in the fading light under the trees.

And there was Piltdown plus chariot again, directing us over a gate and more scrub heath. The longs had now broken down and it was Beefy, Polyfella and the not cruising Bird who teamed up for the final frontier run for home.

Fortunately (again for me) Beefy was there to call the ON HOME as another arrow would have taken me right onto the outgoing short trail...whatamistakatomaka that would Shirley have been.

The shell hole was welcoming and it was a fulsome four miler plus as we consulted our tech and awaited the returnees. Strap-On (Gold Star performance) and BroadS (I know how you felt old son) preceded the unfortunate Manpig / Artful team-up and Wetfart (I know where I am ok!) boldly declared that he'd completed the short of about four miles (!) as did Screwed and a host of golden daffodils.

Nine declared their undying devotion and completion of the undulating, scenic long: Beefy, Plonker (last home but then it's a long way back from Dawlish Water), Artful, Polyfella (quite pleased to be able to keep up with him and Beefy even though they covered more ground), Pisswell, SM Ellie, BroadS and Manpig.

A few lingered in the twilight lit shell hole as the convoy trickled down the hill to the Devon Arms.

The snug cum snooker table room was ours to command and the fine Teignworthy ales, Gun Dog 4.3 abv and Deck Hand 4.5 abv ensured satisfaction guaranteed. Many a beer-induced tale was spun and Wetfart proved to me that he was no fool (and walked across my swimming pool***) in recalling television shows from the stone age.

POSTSCRIPT

A well-judged mix and match long/short trail over varied terrain which was taken advantage of by Melon Picker and Ollie.

The OD pub was fine for our needs and we would have supped in the garden but for the advancing autumnal chill. Thank you, Georgie and Piltdown, top marks for your efforts.

*That was a helluva intro Bobby, but you failed to make the pubberido - Disappointed!

**Melon Picker - who actually did rather well out there - though it pains me to say it.

***Jesus Christ Superstar you fools.

ON ON to next week and the Wild Goose at Combeinteignhead with T Humper.

Monday August 31st details

Run #1842 Monday August 31st 7:15 pm with Piltdown & Georgy P from Little Haldon National Trust Car park just past the golf club on the right (approaching from Teignmouth). The OD is the Devon Arms, Northumberland Pl, Teignmouth TQ14 8DE Advised by SM Ellie that there are two nearby car parks. One opposite in Brunswick Street and the other is around the corner in New Quay Road. As usual, PLEASE INDICATE IF YOU ARE GOING. Thanks. ALSO PLEASE NOTE THAT on downs are also being held on moorland at side of car park. Please bring your own can and a fold up chair, for those not wanting to manage a pub.

MANPIG LAYS A FAMOUS TRAIL FOR THE YOUNG GUNS, B ROADS HIT & BEEFY CAVALRY

Run #1841 Monday 24th August from the Lord Nelson, Kingskerswell with Hare Manpig

'Manpig laid a runners' seven

Which nearly sent the Bird to heaven'

But back to the beginning, Oh Dearly Jumping the Gun...

Over the Kinky Kinkerswell [sic] speed humps did the Swing Low Sweet Chariot trundle and as the Nellie was approached, a waving figure came into focus. It was young 69 who had arriv-ed early to Thomas Cook his parking space on the oasis pavement outside the loo (and preferred option for Teapot). Not wishing to risk it and go as a biscuit, mine chariot U-turned back to the exclusive three chariot tether alongside the pub.

The landlord's head peered over the gate to give permission for the space of spaces to be occupied. Five minutes later and the GM slotted seamlessly in behind. HA! Shirley the plan was coming together, Oh Dearly Don't You Love It.

There was nary a sign of Hare Manpig (way out on trail) as the tiny band's numbers were swelled with B Roads Hit*, Strap-On and Coldtits (shedding the pounds impressively) - joining the GM, I-Poo'd, 69 and T Humper. Sunglasses were needed as SM Ellie dazzled with a bright orange glow tee shirt.

The Flying FRBs, Flasher, Plonker and Artful Dogger appeared line abreast like gunfighters at High Noon and the game was Shirley a foot** Oh Dearly Ready to Rock 'n' stroll.

A slightly confused roll call but the participants tentatively identified as follows: GM Shitfaced, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Flasher, Plonker, Artful Dogger, BB, Beefy, BroadS, SM Ellie, Strap-On, Pisswell, Coldtits, 69, Piltdown, Wiggy (Hi! you're back at last!), Wetfart, Archangel and Manpig. 3Sum (welcome back) and Slip on Me made the pub afterwards.

It was now gone 7:20 pm and with still no sign of the hardy hare but armed with the knowledge that the first L/S split was at the foot of Fluder, the GM sent the longs on their way.

The watch was tardy acquiring the GPS and a fifty metre start was gifted to the gunfighters... sigh. It really was demoralizing watching the lads disappear up Fluder and I thought it was a case of drawing the short straw Shirley - on my lonesome for six miles was a bitter pill to swallow so early in the run..

Meanwhile, B Roads Hit also faced a lonely run and set off solo at his Sunday best stroll. Just after two miles, a patter of feet heralded the cavalry in the shape of - Here's Beefy! The daring duo did doddle down*** the rest of the trail together. Well done lads!

But never mind, back at the sharp end and atop Fluder the first check halted the charge and contact was reestablished. Along the 'Kerswell Road we coursed with the first (pleasant) surprise as we dropped down below the Holiday Park onto the bridlepath cum cycle/scramble bike path. A fallen tree blocked the path but gosh and by golly, we hadn't been down here for decades!

Descending onto Brown Bridge Road and the Young Guns had to be called back to go straight across into the path with the 'Road Closed' sign - Manpig had to check whether it really was and then go back to lay.

Crossing the Newton Road, the hare had us guessing before we turned off into Edginswell Lane and at the three mile mark the shorts were encountered - giving the lie to the Nellie's landlord's pre-trail comment of the Grand Master not going anywhere! GM Shitfaced turned: 'There's Bluebird hanging on for dear life!' Too true Blue, the Bird was eyeballs out but firing on all cylinders for once.

A bit further up the lane there were Manpig and 69 and a little respite as we quizzed MP on what was to come.

Assur-ed that it was only a 5.4 miler (not quite but MP didn't want to frighten the Bird)), we set off into the gathering gloom, recalling adventures from long long ago.

Up a gloomy gorge we struggled in near darkness. Flasher scouted and distant calls were borne on the wind back to Plonker (hindered by a knee injury), Artful and the Bird. The ON ON was sounded and in a flash, Flasher [sic] was gone, never to be seen until the end. Plonker and Flasher had run a fourteen miler on Sunday but this had no effect whatsoever on the flying hasher on this, his last trail for a while.

Familiar territory and SM Ellie was sighted below Manpig's drum and a chalk 'P' for pool by the turn-off. No time to tarry though as there was the glorious On Home marker and the salvation of the Nellie and, most importantly, the beer!

The light had fled and summer flown with the rain just about to start. 'Head torches next week,' was the consensus.

Coldtits was back from the short and the lads have a conflab before heading off. And who was this? Why it looked just like the Wiggster - and it was - back from his Tour de Poland and completing the short to earn his pint.

The ale of choice was the Salcombe Gold 4.2 abv, a thirst quenching harvest gold ale with a friendly £3.80 price tag.

We had the pub to ourselves and plenty of room for all. Pisswell arrived and had done the short and it was great catching up with B Roads Hit after many weeks away. Rare pubsters were Wetfart and 69 who had put himself about and needed a pick me up. Shitfaced proudly displayed a 3 mile clocking for himself T Humper, I-Poo'd and Spud - power to your trainers. Catch you next week Wiggy for a chat!

Flasher bid us adieu and signed off with a tarmac scorching run - I doff my Bluebird cap to you!

POSTSCRIPT

A REALLY SUPER trail laid by Manpig. A long designed for the runners by a runner and how we greedily gobbled it up. The checks were judiciously placed and arrows kept the pace high (new rules now to keep the pack apart!). A family style gathering in the Nellie afterwards, yes, Oh Dearly Did You Ever Doubt It, we are Shirley still hashing!

And finally, an ode to Manpig's magnificent runners' long:

Manpig laid a runners' seven

And nearly sent the Bird to heaven

The smooth tarmac did seduce

Fast running did we produce

Mile after mile we poured it on

Until our energy was truly gone

Off road sections gave respite

Before we continu-ed the fight

Late August light fades all too fast

The time for indecision long past

Checks are few, arrows reign

To give the warriors maximum pain

SM Ellie heard the shout

As the blessed On Home

Hove into sight

Oh Shirley we have won the fight!

*BroadS tee shirt

**Afoot you fools

***Only five, have to do better

ON ON to next week and Run #1842 from Little Haldon with Piltdown & Georgy P Orgy. Details to follow here and on our website at www.teignvalleyh3.com

'NEVER MIND THE MARKS, FOLLOW THE TYRE TRACKS'

   Run #1840 Monday 17th August from Only Here for the Beer's abode in Coffinswell

'Second house down from the Linny, easy peasy lemon squeezy', I mused as I turned off the rat run to descend into Coffinswell once more. Oh Yes, Oh Dearly Have You Forgotten Already, I knew it well from the week before.

So Cruising past the Linny, I slowed as I got to where Only Here's abode should be, but no luck. Ah, it must be on the right and it was down, way way down into Daccombe before the dull-witted one realiz-ed it must be the Wong Wei. Oh well, I wuz early..

Abandoning the chariot by the Linny, I wander-ed down towards the church. As I was looking left, a booming voice came from on high: 'What are you doing Bluebird, there's plenty of parking up here!' The Grand Master and Mine Host Only Here, on Wally Watch, had spotted the hapless wretch who it seemed would have trouble getting out of his garden... sigh

And there 'twas - the Hash destination of our dreams. A cavernous off road parking area with a Park Inn sized garden to accommodate all and sun dry*. Hash heaven hallelujah, we're Shirley frying tonight.

Forrest and his faithful mutt felt lucky and had decided on an away day from Dearest Dingly Dell deep in the Teign Valley. That man with the suntan and everlasting smile, 69, dropped by from Haytor way - high five perhaps no but elbow collideroo yes.  After many (well documented and avidly followed) adventures, Strap-On finally escaped the confines of Abbotskerswell to return to the fold along with SM Ellie, Just Coming (or Cums Too Late, take your pick) and Stung Down Under. Wetfart made his by now de rigueur flying visit and that rare bird, 'you can survive without Facebook', Able, tracked us down via the website at www.teignvalleyh3.com..

Here then, Oh Dearly Why Doesn't He Get on With It, is the roll of honour from #1840:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Beefy, Flasher, Plonker, Artful Dogger, Wetfart, SM Ellie, Coldtits, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Just Coming, Forrest, Manpig, Screwed, Stung Down Under, Pisswell, Strap-on, #69, BB, Archangel, Able, Only Here and Dog End.

As last week, no circle and hashers rocked and rolled when ready.  The flying FRBs Hit The Road (Jack) first with Artful Dogger and the Bird in their slipstream. Straight on up into Only Here's private lane and his grand 280 acre estate the advance guard cruised with the perennial longs and hard as nails hashers, Manpig and Beefy setting off in arrears.

Hard a port into a barley field and the rapido tuxedoes left the Bird trailing in their wake. But Only Here had his first snare in place and over the brow of the field the FRBs came to a juddering halt.

Oh rampant was the confusion that ensued and we had only gone a quarter of a mile, what fun what fun.  Artful by name and by deed, the Artful Dogger had kept the faith and was seen merrily dashing around the barley above us. The awful truth dawned and a hashing technical term was screamed by a berserker: 'Silly sod! Back troops!' It was a complete circuit of Only Here's barley field but Flasher and Plonker stood for it and played the game though someone did not - though the culprit could not be identified with any certainty.

 

Into a sloping meadow and the hares' awful design became clear - the trail was laid around the perimeter of Farmer Beer's fields and Farmer Beer was so proud of his fields that he wished us to examine all of them.

The Artful one soon cottoned on: 'Never mind the marks, follow the tyre tracks!' Oh Yes, Oh Dearly The Game's Up, the trail had been laid from Only Here's truck, driven by Dog End whilst Only Here flour bombed from the passenger seat....sigh

Descending to the Auld Empty Barn, Flasher called back to Artful in the field above: 'Make sure you go round the field!' And Beefy was only about fifty yards away but actually two fields distant on the bewildering helter-skelter configured trail.

Surprisingly, no one seemed to have picked up that the Bird is the word had shamelessly continued short-cutting and excusing the outrage with a plaintive wailing of: 'Sorry lads, but I'm very old!'

At last we tumbled out onto the blessed tarmac and headed off into the boondocks down Daccombe way.  The last time Flasher and Plonker were sighted was at the three mile mark betwixt the Orestone and Killpark Plantations below Fluder Hill.  From then on it was a wild and lonely meander back to the beer. If I knew then what I discovered after, I might not have ventured up the last iniquitous (for me but hash-friendly terrain for the hardy) long split. Fear of death (and no beer) forced a virtual walk the last mile and there was many a furtive look over mine shoulder to see if Beefy and Manpig were coming to claim Despicable Me.

Nearly home and two hashers loomed large - Strap-On and SM Ellie though I was too far gone to speak. Then charging towards me were Flasher and Plonker who were determined to make a 10K out of it. Good luck lads, 5.4 miles is good enough - show me the beer..

A supply of Proper Job, a chance to catch up on all the gossip, fairy lights, food supplied by Dog End, Oh Yes, we had it all. 

Offers for forthcoming hash trails and venues were pledged and with fingers tightly crossed, a fervent hope that we can keep on trucking...

Thanks Only Here and Dog End (who knew that the longs would want a gallop), it was a lot of work for but six longs (I think) but we really loved the trail - it had something to cater for all tastes and after surviving that last off-road section, we really earned our beer - as did the shorts and walkers out there.

ON ON to next week from the Lord Nelson at Kingskerswell with Manpig as hare.

*Sundry you fools

THIS MONDAY'S DETAILS

Run #1840 Monday 17th August from Only Here for the Beer's abode: 'Bradstone', Willowpark Lane, Coffinswell, TQ12 4SS close to the Linny pub. Off road parking as well as in property. Trails for longs/shorts/walkers. FOOD MUST BE PRE-BOOKED before the run. Hot dogs/salad/chips about £3. PLEASE REGISTER (add comment) ON THIS POST IF YOU ARE ATTENDING so we can have an idea of numbers and indicate if you wish to eat. Thanks.