AUTUMN IN THE VALLEY by our Roving Reporter Manpig

Run #1880 Monday 6th September from the Bridford Inn with Forrest

 

The first of September heralds the first day of Autumn. I think that it would be fair to say that the summer had been, for the most part, disappointing; overcast and windy but not necessarily wet or cold. The cloud and mist from the beginning of the month evaporated to produce a beautiful bright day for our run from the Bridford Inn. Would this be the beginning of a long awaited Indian Summer? Only time will tell.

 

The pre-trail blurb on the internet of things....'tis the Devil's work methinks.....required a "prompt start" although the trail "wasn't long". Additionally, it was suggested that "torches were needed" followed by, "the trail isn't long". There was a common thread here. Just how long was this trail going to be? Was Forest going to trump last week's dusky nightmare of 8.14 miles? Again, only time will tell.

 

The drive up the Teign Valley is always scenic. However, what you do not want to see coming towards you is an articulated lorry. Soapy and Melon Picker were in front of me and just managed to squeeze past the stationary behemoth. I pulled into the Teign Village turn off to allow the huge lorry to pass....it was not one of Trucker's wagons. Before catching up with Soapy & Melon Picker, we had the Country Bus to contend with. Finally, I caught up with the bright red mini clubman but only to be stuck behind a cyclist! The Teign Valley road was busier than the M25.

 

Now, whenever I visit Bridford I keep an eagle eye out for a Vincent Comet motorcycle. For those who are passionate about motorcycles, and British motorcycles in particular, the Vincent is truly a thing of wonder. British engineering at its best. Tonight was my lucky night. There it was, parked in a driveway. Oh how I'd love to get my leg over that little black beauty. On arriving, and having parked up, at the pub car park another thing of beauty turned up. It was Piltdown Man on his Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle. Another black beauty.

 

Despite the weather, numbers were a little lower than usual. On the upside, it allowed everyone to park in the pub car park with space to spare. With no virgins, or Teapot to welcome them, it was over to the Hare. Forest explained that there were two viewpoints that needed to be visited on trail. Both were a little off the main drag so it was a "run up to the viewpoint and retrace you steps back down to the road". There were Walkers', Shorts' and Longs' trails. No distances but just be back in the pub as quick as you can to enjoy Forest's home-made sandwiches. All proceeds going towards funding "Pole-Dancer's" trip to the Winter Olympics. 

 

Well, I don't know what was on Forest-Stump's mind but I'm guessing that it wasn't skiing. Additionally, we don't have any Pole-Dancers in the hash that I'm aware of, perhaps with the exception of Palmolive? But I think that is more Pole-aerobics where the women are clad. I think Forest meant to say "Pole-Dodger".

 

The trail took us back into the village and through the churchyard and onto the footpath at the rear of the churchyard. It must have been at least 10 years since we last started a hash from Bridford on this path. Very shortly we came to the first Long/Short split. The Longs went left whilst the others continued forwards. At this point the Longs comprised Bluebird, Big-End, Well-Hopped, Man-Pig, Pisswell and Deep Semen. A lovely winding footpath through woodland with some newly created timber boarding (covered with anti-slip chicken wire) spanning what would be boggy ground during the winter months.

 

We exited the footpath onto a lane at exactly the same time as the Walkers and the Shorts arrived at the staggered crossroads at Rowden Brook. A contra-flow system ensued as Forest directed Walkers and Shorts one way and Longs the other. Whilst the Shorts headed West the Longs headed north.

After 500m we came to our first check. Bluebird checked right (due east) and came back. Man-Pig stayed on road heading west and came to another check after 200 yards. Man-Pig continued west but found nothing. Big-End had checked north and had found two marks but no cross or third dot. We decided to double-check the northern route and had a jolly jape down to Lowton Farm. Still no third mark so Pisswell checked-out the footpath onto Lower Lowton Down....nothing. We doubled-back to the previous check and, miraculously, came across a cross for a false trail. Bluebird swore blind that it wasn't there before.

 

Back onto the track that Man-Pig had allegedly checked out 10 minutes before. Hey presto. After nearly 200 yards - a mark. Another 150 yards and a second mark then a third. Nearly a mile and 15 minutes wasted but we were back on trail. This was clearly a green lane and used for farm vehicles and dirt bikes; a red scrambler was disappearing in the distance as we recommenced checking.

 

At the end of the green lane we rejoined tarmac at Plaistow Green. Soon we caught up with Wetfart who was muttering about a viewpoint. It transpired that Man-Pig and Bluebird had missed the VP sign directing us up to Heltor Rock. Left at Preston Green crossroads and the next Walker to be dispatched was Able Semen followed by Melon Picker. It appeared that Bluebird and Man-pig had left the other FRB's behind. Not so. They had simply followed the marks to Heltor and taken in the view. Two fishhooks marked 4 and 3 were ignored as the Bird and the Pig were directed left by an arrow in sawdust. 400 yards later we were at a small car park where Forrest was directing us up the Blackingstone Rock for the second time in 7 weeks. We waited patiently for Smellie and Strap-On to take in the views and descend the decidedly dodgy and ridiculously steep steps that afford access to the summit. It was 8.35pm. The sun had just set and the normally spectacular views were now becoming obscured by darkness. In the distance we could just make out Heltor....."Wasn't that where we were meant to go? Shirley we've just run past that?" murmured the Pig. The Bird was, as ever, clueless. We did, however, recognise the woods behind the Blackingstone that we'd run through 7 weeks earlier.....although we now know that we shouldn't have.....I do vaguely recall a sign on a gate that read "Private" during our previous trail....oh well!

 

Back down the steep steps, but very slowly and carefully. This is one set of steps where it's far easier to go up than to come down. We rejoined tarmac to follow the Shorts' trail. There was a sense of deja vu as this was the lane that we had run up 7 weeks earlier, but in reverse. We soon caught up with Smellie and Strap-On and then Big End and Well-Hopped. They had visited Heltor but elected not to ascend the Blackingstone which explained how they had got in front of us. At the bottom of the hill there was a Long/Short split. It was dark so torches on and continue forward on the Shorts. This was despite protestations from behind us. "You've missed the Long" shouted Big End. "We're going Short" squawked the Bird.

 

At Laployd Barton we caught up with the Golden Girls, Twiggy, Rise 'n' Shine and Teararse. They had ground to a halt at a check. Which way to go? The Pig checked right and, after a very long 500 yards, spotted a mark in the gloom. "On one". "On two". "Check. On-On". Left towards Furzelands and another check at the end of a long, straight, fenced footpath. It looked strangely familiar. But from a long time back. Maybe 10 years? Bluebird and Man-Pig checked it out. No marks until we reached the gate at Hedgemoor some 500 yards later and came across an arrow. "On-On" and down through the woods skirting Rowden Rock until we reached Rookery Brook. It was pitch black now and no marks, but where else could we go? At a five bar gate we came across the On Home sign and commenced our ascent up a very dilapidated lane. Ahead, in the distance, the orange glow of an ancient gaslight. "The pub. The pub. "Hallejujah" grunted the Pig.

 

Salvation indeed as beer was a very palatable £3.50 a pint. The cheapest post lockdown pint encountered at an On-Down. Dean, the landlord, looked after us very well and the motorcycle extravaganza continued with Dean showing me some of his vintage machinery. Beer and bikes to finish the evening. What more can a man (or should that be pig) ask for?

 

Thank you MP and now on on to the technical data:

 

CIRCLE UP ROLL-CALL

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Forrest, Wetfart, Pisswell, Melon Picker, Deep Semen, Able, SM Ellie, Twiggy, Teararse, Rise 'n' Shine, Well Hopped, Big End, Polyfella, Coldtits, Rambo, BB, Manpig, Strap-On, Ann, Archangel, 22 Buckle My Shoe - though might have missed one?

 

MENTIONED IN DISPATCHES

Cheaper than flour but the sawdust marks were difficult to spot throughout the trail.

Melon Picker sans Soapy (dog-sitting) doggedly [sic Ha!] wandering alone.

Wetfart who had enquired in passing [lots of sics this week] if MP and I had seen the viewpoint. What viewpoint?? I must let mine guide carry the can for this oversight as I had been getting my head torch from the chariot and had missed the hare's briefing..

Twiggy and Rise 'n' Shine (or was it Teararse?) having a natter in the light fading lane - we'd come across them again later - much later.

Rambo conquering the ascent (and trickier descent) of Mt Heltor - Shirley he must have been well oiled? No? Well please yourselves then.

Piltdown Man chugging into the car park astride his Harley.

Able staggering into the pub after apparently going to Hull and Back on trail - fortunately had Coldtits for company.

'Bleep that!' comment uttered by MP when he saw the first fish hook. 'BLEEP BLEEP that! when he saw the second fish hook.

The second ascent of the Blackingstone rock this year. Grudgingly do I concede that the view continues to be worth the hike.

Big End, Well Hopped and Ned always there in support as was the rugged Deep Semen.

Waiting for SM Ellie and Strap-On to descend from the Blackingstone rock.

Forrest live laying from his battered chariot.

Twiggy, Teararse and Rise 'n' Shine dilly-dallying at some forgotten hamlet awaiting the cavalry after finding no marks along the byway or highway. Enter the cavalry and John Wayne (MP you fools) galloping into the sunset to save the pilgrims.

 

SHIRLEY OF THE TRAIL

Covering 8.4 miles, the only hasher to complete all of the long and on her feet for over two hours, the Shirley of the trail must Shirley go to Pisswell. I relied completely on Manpig's knowledge of the area (hence the Cruella 'clueless' clucking Bird comment) and Forrest's marks were by no means straightforward - especially if you were alone. If any of us deserved a drink, it had to be Pisswell. I tip my Bluebird cap to you in unbridled admiration.

 

DOWNDOWNS

Melon Picker checkin' chicken hat to Strap-On for allegedly standing on a mark by the church. Cheap shot Melon!

Archangel - on the defensive when heckled by the Bird - that homing Horse Head (mine!) rearing its head from various hidey-holes and always returning to Forrest - awarded to, guess who? Forrest...

Manpig horn hat to Piltdown, he of Leader of the Pack Harley fame.

And finally, Piltdown, hashit shirt attired, DIDASID - self-inflicted downdown to the uninitiated. And after that second DD, he rode into the night, forgot to get on his motorbike ohwoawoawo. No? Well...

 

POSTSCRIPT

A fair old trek out to the Bridford Inn and I had forgotten how far it was, even to the Teign House and that was just the turn-off. The trail was well thought out on typically Forrest tough terrain and it was only in the closing stages that I worked out the hare's devious tactic. As I remarked to MP, 'the further we go with no marks, the more likely it is we are on trail!' A quarter of a mile with nary a splodge and then an arrow - nicely done!

 

The beer price was remarkable, eliciting praise from Wetfart {and his wallet} who had checked the beer out before the run. 'Bluebird, guess what? They've got Jail on at £3.50 a pint!!' Quite a difference to the not so Legendary [sic] £4.60 encountered recently.. Cheers Dean, now there's a welcome in the Teign valley!

 

Platters of sarnies were proffered by Forrest in aid of Pole Dodger's fighting fund and a pity there were not more mouths (and money) to support his generosity.

 

Well done Forrest, your efforts appreciated by all that made the journey out to darkest Bridford.

 

ON ON to next week and the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with Wet Johnny.

MONDAY 6TH SEPTEMBER MAP FOR THE BRIDFORD INN AT BRIDFORD

 

Run #1879 Monday 30th August from the Wild Goose with Grand Master Shitfaced and friends

 

THE ART OF DELEGATION by Manpig

The word 'friend', in my humble opinion, is one of the most abused words in the English language. Rather like elastic, it's definition can be extended to mean almost whatever you want. Usually, if you see an acquaintance speaking with someone you do not recognise and you ask, "Who was that you were just speaking to?" "Oh! Just a friend", is the most frequent answer. However, probing deeper you find that the word friend has many meanings:

debt collector

drug dealer

embarrassing relative

ex-partner

new partner

bit on the side

work college

someone from your past

or, yes, simply a friend from a sphere of your life that the enquirer is not privy to.

So it was with this week's trail. The Hare was advertised as being "Shitfaced and Friends". What sort of friends? Drinkers or runners? Possibly both. Ex-lovers perhaps? Anything is possible with the alter ego that is Bluebell. The friends turned out to be Bluebird and Man-Pig. Not necessarily the worst choice in the world as they should be familiar with the opportunities for trails afforded by the locality.

Shitfaced's new friends were recruited in the time-honoured fashion in which all Hares are press-ganged......errrrr.....I meant encouraged...... to volunteer. Namely wait for an opportune moment. Preferably when they've had a beer or two. And this proved to be the case. Man-Pig and Bluebird were recruited at the Lord Nelson after the previous week's hash....perfect timing.

At 1pm on the Bank Holiday Monday iPoo'd, Shitfaced, Man-Pig and Bluebird met in the car park of the Wild Goose. Man-Pig had sketched out a potential trail and had also created a map of Bluebird's run from the same venue about a year ago. On paper today's trail looked a little further, but not by much. Shitfaced and iPoo'd volunteered to do the Walkers' trail, Bluebird the Shorts and Man-Pig drawing the Short, or should that be the Long, straw? We reckoned on being back in the car park in an hour and a half.

Many hands make light work and Shitfaced, iPoo'd and Man-Pig arrived back at the Wild Goose almost bang on the hour and a half mark. But where was the Bird? A phone call and text message failed to make contact with the elusive Bird. Had he pulled into Coombe Cellars for a swifty or had he collapsed on trail? If the latter, he would easily be located. All we had to do was follow the dots.

7pm and the Bird proved to be alive and well as we reunited in the Wild Goose car park. Trails all laid. No problems?

Bank Holidays can be a hit and miss affair for all Hashes. How many people would turn up? Would everyone be away on holiday which would dictate low numbers? Or, would Hashers bring visiting family and friends from far and wide, thus swelling numbers? Only time would tell. As it transpired about 30 arrived.

The small car park filled rapidly with the usual dancing on ice choreography of vehicles swirling around each other. Quite cathartic to watch them actually. The exception being Piltdown Man. For some unknown reason he decided that he was going to park in a hedge. Maybe his car had an itch that needed scratching? Just like Balloo in the Jungle Book, Piltdown took to rubbing the side of his car up and down the hedge. This took away the itch and also a coating of paint.

Circle called to order. One virgin, Christina, brought by Natalie, duly anointed by Teapot with the Hare's flour (1.5kg bag £0.70 Co-Op, £0.45 Lidl). Shitfaced, as official hare, confirmed that there was a Walkers', Shorts' and Longs' trail. Walkers' about 2.5 miles.

Over to Bluebird and Man-Pig for the Shorts and the Longs. Bluebird announced an inaccurate 4.3 miles for the Shorts. It proved to be 5 miles. Man-Pig was even more useless, "I wasn't wearing my GPS". The Longs was anyone's guess but Looooooooong was probably a fair bet. With anticyclonic weather (cloud cover for you and me), and some tracks having a dense canopy of foliage, Man-Pig recommended the use of torches for those that had them - especially on the Longs. But who was going to do the Longs? The usual FRB's of Wet-Johnny, Wood-Lend and Forest-Stump were absent. However, newly named Red Raw would Shirley rise to the challenge? Ergo Archangel; slow and steady but almost always a total commitment to the Longs. And, "What about Beefy?" - still absent. We implore you to return....soon.

The Pig's despair at the absence of the usual FRB's was somewhat ameliorated, or should that be compounded, by the appearance of Deep Throat and Grinder. Now, there are fast FRB's and there are bloody fast FRB's. Deep Throat and Grinder definitely fit into the latter class. At the other end of the scale, Rambo was kind enough to defer to the Hare's request that he restrict himself to the Walkers' Trail for the evening; it was going to be pretty dark by 8.30, particularly with the cloud cover.

Off, down through Coombe-in-Teignhead, past the Wild Goose. Bear right and then left to Coombe Cellars. For the first of several times during the evening we were overtaken by the flying duo of Deep Throat and Grinder. They had checked the wrong way, and this set the scene for a recurring feature of their evening's adventure. Past Coombe Cellars and a left onto the public footpath that diagonally traverses two recently harvested fields of maize. A Long/Short split had cunningly been laid on the far side of the 5 bar gate. The net result of which was that Tear Arse and some of the FRB's missed it and continued on along the banks of the Teign.

At the first crossroads on Cross Park the Long/Shorts and the Walkers' trails merged. Albeit with Teapot seemingly doing it in reverse. No sign of Shitfaced whom, it was assumed, was chaperoning the Walkers. Although I did have my doubts, noting that Shitfaced was wearing flip-flops in the car park and muttering about leaving his car there overnight.

A right turn and down a narrow lane towards Tuckett's Farm. The next mark should have taken us left and across someones' driveway and along the fenced public footpath exiting at Netherton. However, it looked to have been erased so Man-Pig relaid it. You guessed it, Grinder and Deep Throat had overrun it.

At Netherton there was a deviation from the planned route. The Bird should have worn his glasses. Man-Pig and Arkangel took a short cut with Man-Pig stating, "I'd better wait here. I'll catch you up". Back-Runners and the Shorts duly filed past: Pisswell and virgin, Teararse, Soapy, Coldtits and, bringing up the rear, Melon-Picker....or was it the rear? Yet again our misguided duo of Grinder and Deep Throat had gone wong-wei and were motoring at a luny pace to make up lost ground.

We commenced our long climb up Ridge Road; no longer adopted by the council it was badly rutted with disintegrating tarmac after years of neglect. In places the ferns met in the middle but it was worth the climb. For, if you stopped and turned around, you were blessed with the most stunning views over the Teign Estuary. Melon Picker and I were in agreement...beautiful. It was about 8.15, the light was fading and the wind was picking up when we reached the main Long/Short split at the top of Ridge Road. All of the back-markers had sensibly committed to doing the Short. But I was a little worried. There were a couple of runners who I had not seen on the trail who usually commit to the Long.....Pollyfella and Smellie. Were they behind me or in front of me. Also, where on earth was the Bird?

Up to this point the pace had been deliberately slow as I really needed to be at the back to do the sweeping. But was I really at the back? I presumed that I was, indeed, the back marker. I bade farewell to the Shorts and decided to get a push-on for the rest of the trail. There was absolutely no chance of catching Deep Throat and Grinder but I needed to kick out the checks just in case they'd got off trail or if anyone was still behind me.

Continuing along Ridge Road, a kicked-out check revealed that there were hashers in front of me who were on trail. Left down a track towards Lower Roccombe Farm. After 200 yards another check - correctly kicked out on the reciprocal track that re-emerged onto Ridge Road and another check. This time not kicked out! Hmmmm! I marked it left and ran the final check on Ridge Road - not kicked out but torchlight ahead of me. It was Grinder and Deep Throat who had overrun the check.

Back on trail we descended the dodgy eroded ravine down to Middle Roccombe. Another check but the dynamic duo were already on trail and heading north through Lower Roccombe. Unwittingly, they had passed another two checks. In fairness, these check were on the left hand side of the road whereas all of the dots were on the right. I marked them out in the correct direction and, amazingly, caught up with Grinder and Deep Throat checking out the final check. From here it was all road, past Higher and Lower Charlecombe and a slight downhill descent back to the pub. As promised, I did catch up with Arkangel - about 25 yards short of the car park!

A little anxiety was present as I entered the pub. Would everyone be back or would I be jumping in the car looking for those who were still AWOL? Relief, one of the first people I saw in the pub was Rambo. Smellie was sat at the bar but no sign of Pollyfella. However, Shitfaced confirmed that everyone was accounted for.....phew! An ambitious 8 miles for the Dynamic Duo and a well earned beer!

CIRCLE UP ROLL CALL

Buckle My Shoe thirty two hashers true on this Bank Holiday Monday: GM Shitfaced, T Humper, I-Poo'd, Lady Jane,Teapot, Piltdown, Georgie, Archangel, Coldtits, Rambo, Pisswell, Natalie and virgin Christina, Mouldy, Wicky, Little Tuckaway, Crackerjack, Grinder, Deep Throat, Pollyfella, Wetfart, Manpig, BB, Red Raw, SM Ellie, Fallen Woman, Soapy, Melon Picker, Teararse, Slip on Me, Zoot, Hotlips and late arrival Screwed/Bella.

BIRDSTORIAL

Eagle-eyed was the Bird decidedly not and frantically did he scour his chariot's boot for a magnifying glass, not wishing to own up that he could barely see the map laid out on the bonnet of Manpig's cruising battlewagon - let alone any detail.. And thus the stage was set for the four strong crew of hares to Shirley sally fourth [sic you fools] to lay the trail, the seeds of destruction having been sown.

ON THE LAY

The Dolorous Stroke was executed by the blind as a bat Bird emerging onto the highway at Netherton. A cursory peer at der Gruppenfuhrer's map, and instead of turning left for the off-road loop up to Ridge Road (bypassing Cross Hill road), the bird-brain gaily skipped right and left up to Haccombe and St Blaise church adding an extra mile to the short and long.. sigh

COMETH THE DAY SNIPPETS

Manpig sweeping the long whilst the Bird fluttered back and forth along the byways and highways.

Thinking it had gone Bluetit's up by Netherton House when Red Raw appeared completely alone.

Deep Throat eventually appearing after making a tour of Netherton House's river frontage.

Melon Picker actually running: 'I'm turning back the clock!'

Grinder hoving into view after taking a sightseeing detour.

Make your mind up time at the second L/S split and dispensing (unusually sound) advice to SM Ellie and Fallen Woman.

Having a chat with Teapot who had cunningly short-cutted to said L/S split.

Oblivious to the sabotage to marks on the long - thank goodness MP was sweeping!

Attacking the Ridge Road ascent - the only running I did all night.

Waiting at the final L/S split to advise SM Ellie that the long could be another three miles plus.

Escorting Fallen Woman down an alternative route to the OH.

Red Raw suddenly appearing again on an eventful trail.

Feeling guilty about not going back for Coldtits and Screwed but unsure whether they were already back.

DOWNDOWNS

Zoot awarded Melon Picker for the 'dingle dangle' on trail.

Red Raw, giving her first award, singled Piltdown out for a drink for parking in the hedge.

Bluebird to co-hare Manpig, for making the mistaka of having any degree of faith in the myopic Bird.

Finally, in time honoured tradition, there was a drink for the author of the exercise, our Grand Master who had so sneakily/cunningly, nay cleverly, enlisted his friends.

SHIRLEY OF THE TRAIL

Must go jointly to COLDTITS and SCREWED/BELLA. I had laid the trail on the final part of the short down the 'Descent into Hell' lane (did you see the burnt out trees where the torched car had been?) and later realised that it would be tricky to navigate in the gloom. Not a word of complaint from anyone, gritty and true hashers both. I slipped up laying it in perfect light!

In any other circumstances, Deep Throat and Grinder would have been Shirley of the Trail decorated, what with their marathon effort in completing the 'extended' trail of 8.13 miles. I can only say that I'm glad I didn't do it!

POSTSCRIPT

A thoroughly enjoyable trail-lay, trail run and on down. Thanks go to Ian and Chris of the Goose for opening up just for us. Well done to that gentleman Polyfella (currently injured) for keeping Rambo company.

Hero of the night must Shirley be Manpig for carrying out his duties faultlessly and shadowing the tiny band around the long - as well as laying it earlier - a round of applause please!

ON ON to next week and the Bridford Inn, Bridford, Exeter EX6 7HT, with Forrest.

Monday 9th August map

 

New outside decking area in the Thatched Tavern's garden

 

MONDAY 26TH JULY LOCATION MAP

 

Monday 19th July map

 

HIGHWEEK INN MAP FOR MONDAY 12 JULY

 

MONDAY 5TH JULY LOCATION MAP

 

Monday 28th June location maps:

MONDAY'S MAP FOR TOTTIFORD RESERVOIR CP

 

Monday 10 May map

 

Monday 3rd May map

 

Monday's location map

Pisswell advises:

'Please go beyond Dartmeet car park next week and to the Brimpts track on the right of the Pixieland shop.

There is a grassy lane we can park along the drive way to Brimpts farm. My red car will be there.'

 

Monday's location

 

Run #1857 Monday 29th March 7:15 pm from Ilsham Long Meadow, Ilsham Road, Torquay TQ1 2HY with our esteemed hare Wigwam.

There should be plenty of parking opportunities beside the road and we can 'assemble' across in long meadow itself. There may be a welcome back snifter but please remember to be Covid careful at all times.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓 & 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝟓𝟒, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

Run #1855 Monday 28th December from Steamer Quay car park, Totnes with Wet Johnny

Fearing not the inclement weather, hardy and foolhardy hashers alike, set sail for Steamer Quay out in the Totnes wilds.

 

Approaching from Newton side, one of the foolhardy charioteers was confronted by the dreaded 'No Right Turn' sign and had to make a complicated manoeuvre to overcome the obstacle. The Idiot doubled down on the mistaka by then taking the Wong Wei into the Bridgetown complex... shouldn't really be allowed out.

 

The tiny chariot cavalcade chugged into the Steamer tether and a lonely, nigh on deserted place it was. The Penners were out there to Support Your Local Sheriff! (1969) and come the circle up, there we were - the last hashers on a post-apocalyptic planet.

 

The roll call of surviving warriors:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Wet Johnny, Gianluca, Erection, Ben, Manopause, Beefy, Pisswell, Fallen Woman (yes, I did see you), Grinder, Deep Throat, ManPig, guest appearance of Zen, BB, Fukarwi and late arriving Wide Receiver.

 

The Grand Master rallied his mini-throng with stirring words before handing over to Wet Johnny. He recounted dreadful tales of suspicious locals who thought he was putting down poison and being hopeful that the marks would endure out there in possible hostile territory. There were two long short splits and a short section where the marks were both sides describing an out and backer. Quite a few of us (the Birdbrain included) usually don't pay attention to the hare's directives, but for once, I'm glad I did.

 

The chequered flag was lowered and the tiny huddle cautiously ventured out. The first L/S split materialized after a hundred yards and out of the corner of my good eye saw ManPig veer off sharply left - onto the short trail... sigh

 

A strangely configured zig-zag ascent of tarmac bends made the Bird Dizzy, his head was spinning, like a whirlpool it never ends.. No? Well please yourselves then.

 

A short urban Tour de Bridgetown ensued before we came upon Piltdown, Georgie and pooch pootling along the road, they were stardust, they were golden and they had to get themselves back to the car park..

 

Beefy overtook further along the bypass after some sightseeing diversion and we arrived on the Plains knowing our Final Destination (2000).

 

A sleepless entity, sister of Doom, Miss Fortune cast down her malevolent gaze upon Fukarwi and the hero of two hundred and more hashes hashed no more this chill evening. Abandoning all hope, grimly did Fukarwi salute before peeling off. Adios amigo.

 

Disconsolate was the Bird who had been Wishin' And Hopin' to singalong along the long [Shirley sic] with the Fam-ed One.

 

Now only the indomitable ManPig was there to play the game with as we hit the west bank climb above a silvery Dart.

 

It now becomes hazy, so in earnest hope that there is someone out there who is slightly interested, here are some observations of the trail:

 

Beefy storming up the hill (the all-seeing Strava reveals all) to catch Deep Throat and Grinder who were FRBeing - comme d'habitude.

 

Fallen Woman well to the fore on the short - a shame there were no other harriets to keep her company.

That champion Christmas pud eater Manopause, though carrying a few extra pounds, sighted so far along the trail that he should have been on the long.

 

A bit of a mystery seeing the lights of the trailblazers far below on their return journey, but nearly a mile ahead. ManPig and the Bird wondering how they had built up such a lead.

 

My heel going completely on the last loop ascent and relieved that ManPig was waiting for me by the red reflectors and that vertical drop stile.

 

Slowmo progress on the muddy trail back but ManPig patiently making sure the Bird didn't become a dead duck.

 

Thought Manopause had caught us up near the new housing estate but finding it was Wide Receiver who had set off late.

 

Pretty clever stuff by Wet Johnny as we finished the trail with Erection, Ben, Fallen Woman and Zen.

Hobbling to the chariot thinking it was the end of me.

 

𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗧

A strange evening, what with one thing and another and difficult to relate to those who were not there, so be so kind as to tolerate my ramblings - made worse by accidentally deleting the original words.

Wet Johnny, what can I say? The trail was a good 'un and the marks were clear and endured thankfully. All our regular hares acknowledge the effort and commitment needed to lay a trail, knowing too well that many will give it a miss at this time of year. 

 

Well done for all that came along and top marks to Pisswell for getting round the long (as she always does). I daresay she was a bit surprised when Wide Receiver joined her from apparently nowhere.

Let us hope that 2021 is better for us all as we have soldiered on so bravely the past few months and truly deserve a change of luck.

 

One last thing, are you okay Fukarwi, Car 54, Where Are You? Talk to me old buddy!

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week and the Station CP at Bovey Tracey with hare Pisswell

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐇! 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Run #1854 Monday December 21st from Maidencombe beach CP with Bluebird und der Rottenführer Bobby Woll

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒁𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒚 (𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒏)

 

Grisled* veterans, hash heroes past, present and yet to come, stood stoically in a far flung chariot tether under steadily falling rain awaiting their fate. Some had travelled from afar, in faint hope of festive cheer in a plague ridden land of woe.

 

However, it did not look promising. In fact, to be brutally honest, the Bird thought he was staring disaster in the face. A Host of Golden Daffodils gilded obstacles awaited the duo on their Last Hurrah! hash. A sea of mud would Shirley be off-putting to a few and the weather looked pretty unappetizing - sustained drizzle, wind strength increasing and the threat of heavier outbreaks of rain. The only saving grace was that it was unseasonably mild at some 12 C.

 

Bulletins across the bay from Bobby became fractured and then suddenly ceased. Garbled last words from the Panzer ace: 'No oil, der Panzer is seizing up, try to get there later...'

 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Bluebird waited in his silver chariot. The plan, such as it was, had been put in place and now all that was required were the players - but would they appear...

 

They trickled [sic] into the car park and the fear of not making double figures was groundless. The Last Hurrah! roll call:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Geogie, SM Ellie, Wet Johnny, Erection, Gianluca, Ben, Ollie, Beefy, Pisswell, Archangel, ManPig, Fukarwi, Bobby Woll, BB, Wide Receiver and Able.

B Roads Hit had more bad luck, succumbing to lurgy as did 69 up on the moor. Steph was working, Fallen Woman had a little emergency, Triple Jump and the mysterious Lady Jane demurred and Artful Dodger ran [sic] out of time.

 

The Penners came to the aid of the party, despatching a white chariot raiding party with Wet Johnny, Erection and three elves.

 

Bobby Woll slewed to a halt below the anti-tank barrier with black smoke pouring from the rear and the game was good to agogo.

 

The Grand Master, sporting his staff of Moses authority, greeted the mini pack, playing for time as we awaited Beefy and Pisswell who were Shirley en routey**.

 

He who should not be nam-ed was skulking - I mean sheltering under a tree and was summoned. The glad tidings gave little cheer. Three trails were on offer: Two miles for the walkers, three for the shorts and about three and a half for the longs. But fearing greatly for the demise of the walkers, both hares would escort same to their destination high up above the combe.

 

Hashers were reassured that they were safe from falling off the cliff trail into the sea and, with a silent prayer, they were released into the mud, drizzle and darkness.

 

The shorts and longs headed south towards Watcombe leaving a tiny band of walkers - the GM still recovering from a back injury and Able. Sherpa backpack laden, Bobby and the Bird provided escort and the pioneers fearlessly struck out northwards, en route to the famed 'Suit of Armour' viewpoint.

The climbs, though slow going, were safe. It was the descents that were the problem. Progress was painfully slow and as altitude was gained, we looked back, expecting to see the longs at any moment.

 

What we didn't realize was that some of the longs had (quite understandably as cat litter goes a nondescript grey when wet) gone off trail after entering the orchard and had lost time - fortunately for the hares.

 

With nigh on half an hour elapsed to cover three quarters of a mile, Plan B was initiated and the rallying cream liqueur and mince pie stop was brought back a valley and a hill.

 

Able had a slight disagreement with the final stile but was muddied, not bloodied and there below us were the brightly lit trio of cruise ships - our Three Wise Men bringing their gift of light.

 

The sealed cream liqueur was served up with Tesco's kitchen gloves - first to avail himself being the GM himself who had a generous double hit of the £3.89 a bottle brew*** HA!

 

Just as we began to fret, approaching lights at last were sighted and ManPig, Wet Johnny plus Ben and Gianluca preceded Beefy and Wide who had been further delayed by a Maidencombe beach detour - possibly hoping that the Bird had arranged a boat for a cruise ship tour... sigh.

 

And there were Piltdown and Georgie who had safely navigated the short unscathed and that was a great relief. Erection arrived with Olly, the tiniest hasher seen for many a year and he had never seen anything like it before, but was, like Gianluca and Ben, oozing enthusiasm. Future hashing material those three, mark my words.

 

Just one hasher missing - where was SM Ellie? No reports of her progress from other hashers as we kept looking for her head torch. The longs carried on and some shorts and walkers retreated to the crossroads, keeping high.

 

Erection alerted me that a light was climbing up to us but when I investigated, found it was from a cruise ship!

 

Finally spotted her and we shouted across the valley - was that you and did you hear me SM Ellie?

 

Down Steep Hill did we wend, our journey nigh on done and past the locked and barred Thatched Tavern to find that Ziggy (our brilliant Green Man) had a welcome fire pit ablaze. 

 

In wonder, hashers drew near, blinking in surprise. Shirley it could not be true? Why yes, an On Down of sorts and there was just enough Proper Job to go round for the 'spaced out' TVH.

 

Thanks Zigs, you were the Main Man and I owe you one.

 

Bobby Woll had to feed the Panzer more oil but got back home safely. Good boy Bobby!

 

Walking homewards, a happy hare was singing:

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 ...

 

*archaic like me.

**Slightly late as checked the Labrador Bay CP first!

***O'Connor's Irish Country Cream 70cl £3.89 virtually the same taste as Baileys - go for it!

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

I must admit that I had been dreading the evening as in my mind, so many things could have gone Pete Tong. It was only after talking with Wiggy that I was confident of providing the little extras for the trail.

Thank you all for keeping the faith and coming out on such an inhospitable evening - every one of you made the evening special and ultimately successful.

 

𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 to next week and Wet Johnny's trail from Steamer Quay long stay car park at Totnes. Details/map to follow.

 

𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐋 and let's hope 2021 brings better tidings.

ONCE MORE ONTO MANPIG'S KILLER TRAIL DEAR HASHERS

 

Run #1853 Monday 14th December from the Parish Centre CP Kingskerswell with hare ManPig

𝑻𝒉𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉

𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂 '𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈' 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈

𝑶𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆,

𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈

 

The star of hope shone bravely from St Mary's church as I nosed past at a quarter to seven. Entering the deserted Parish centre chariot tether, I wondered if it was indeed Monday - confus-ed at last have I succumbed.

 

Brevity is the word for the Bird this week, warriors all and mayhap you may miss Misses Eaton, Temple and Bassey.

 

Events conspired against several hashers to reduce the roll-call and select was the gathering:

GM Shitfaced, Able, Coldtits, SM Ellie, Beefy, Fukarwi, Pisswell, Grinder, Deep Throat, Wide Receiver, 69, ParaP, Jane, Wigwam, SatNav (late, so late, for our most important date), BB, ManPig, Big End and Well Hopped (with Ned).

 

Cutting to the chase and resisting my usual superfluous chit-chat, I will merely pass on fleeting and nightmarish recollections of the déjà vu trail.

 

ManPig's briefing which failed to jog my memory as he stated 'Only three of you have run this trail before'.

Wondering if it was possible to run after an aborted warm-up.

The penny finally dropping as we climbed towards the Nellie.

The real fear of not being able to cope again with Manpig's Killer Trail from November 10th - the Famous Three who did it being Beefy, Pisswell and the Bird.

Directing the faltering FRBs down Daccombe Mill Lane in the absence of marks. Someone saying 'Why are we following Bluebird?'

Calling FRBs back when they had missed the turning up Downaway Lane.

Relieved that Fukarwi, Well Hopped and Big End were there after Beefy, Grinder, Deep Throat and Wide Receiver had disappeared.

Stumbling and nearly falling on rugged long loop descent. Big End and Fukarwi worried that they might have to carry me back.

Deep Throat overtaking yet again after smashing off-trail.

Chatting with Fukarwi about my favourite tv quiz Pointless which took my mind off the mounting pain in my heel.

The fun of trying to dodge the muddy puddles in Deerpark Lane back on the short trail.

The elation inducing tarmac downhill run before immediately grinding to a halt on the last climb back to civilization.

Being unable to run up the last few yards of a gentle hill and thankful I had got round.

Waiting in the car park with Beefy until Pisswell and ManPig got back.

Enjoying seeing everybody and at least having an evening out.

 

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓

It was as dread a trail that I can recall, but perhaps my boat is being called in at last. I still wouldn't have missed it though as I passed the test. I was spent after completing a solo around ManPig's 'Ghost Trail' last month but couldn't have imagined that I would be doing it again. 

 

It crossed my mind that ManPig might have departed early after the trail but I should have known better than that. After laying the Beast, he swept the trail - which was ideally manufactured to see both long and short sections - arriving back with Pisswell. A pretty rugged effort by ManPig. Te saluto, I salute you my son.

 

Thank goodness Fukarwi, Big End and Well Hopped (plus a beautifully groomed and washed Ned - definitely needed again after the trail!) were there for company, I would have suffered greatly without them. But that's what hashing is all about, isn't it?

 

𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗡 to next week and Glory Be, it's Me. Quite possibly a change of venue from that discussed Monday so make sure you look for updates here. Hares BB AND the infamous Rottenführer himself, Bobby (Panzer) Woll.