TEAPOT ENTERS THE TEIGN VALLEY HALL OF FAME

Run #1881 Monday 13th September from the Wellington Inn at Ipplepen with Wet Johnny

 

The Bird was decidedly not well. A lingering afternoon malaise prompted an early excursion to Ipplepen for a warm-up jog to check the lawnmower out. The warm-up failed to dispel fears as forward momentum barely was gained and a tightening chest was somewhat alarming. A jeering Wet Johnny and Erection drove past with a 'Come on Bluebird, get a move on!' Thanks lads, that's cheered me up no end.

 

So Cruise, was this finally it, would my Waterloo arrive at the Wellington with Wet Johnny? [oh come on, Shirley sic]..

 

Steady and unrelenting rain commenced at the circle and a jolly crowd continued to grow in numbers as a despondent Bird looked on. It looked like it was going to be great fun but now participation seemed unlikely. Pisswell didn't like the look of the Bird - as usual - and recommended an early beer for the Bird brain. Beefy - yes, he was back (!) was also a bit concerned as any misfortune to the Bird would likely include him..

 

To run or not to run, that Shirley was the question Oh Dearly Why Don't You Get on With It?

Ultimately it was a case of 'A Bird's gotta do what a BIrd's gotta do' and the blood red singlet and racing Hokas were donned for what was Shirley going to be another Wet Johnny epic!

 

A former trail recall might be helpful before I pass you over to our Roving Reporter Man-Pig (who looked decidedly rough around the edges after a marathon beer boxing bout on Saturday) to relate the trail tale:

 

Run # 1779 Monday 28th January 2019 from the Court Farm Inn at Abbotskerswell with Hares: Only Here/Beer & Shitfaced

Somewhere in the closing stages of the run (you have to give the hares a lot of credit for laying a good, tough, honest trail) came the shocking moment...

A few yards in front, Fukarwi stopped and gazed at a strange hash mark, marked thus: ƎꓤIM . 'You'll have to help me with this one, oh Belfry Bat, it looks like Greek lettering!' The two idiots stared at the odd lettering for a few moments until walking around it, the mark was revealed quite clearly as: WIRE. 'Fukarwi, it reads wire for gawd's sake!' An electrified fence appeared in front of the aged duo, prompting a now belligerent Bat to exclaim: 'Anyway it can't be switched on, the hare would be mad to let us pass!' Reaching out a moist, clammy hand, the Bat clasped the wire and receiving a hefty jolt was thrown onto his back! You had to have been there to see it, believe me, oh you long suffering readers.. for I too suffered out there - the price to pay for being the Greatest Pillock that TVH has ever seen.

 

Drum roll now as the circle roll call cascades down your screens:

 

(Will have omissions as I was not feeling too good}

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, Teapot, Artful Dogger back after an absence, SM Ellie, Erection, Wet Johnny, 69, Coldtits, Rambo, Wetfart, Beefy (hurrah!), Pisswell, 3Sum, T Humper Birthday Girl, I-Poo'd, Lady Jane, Manpig, Big End, Mouldy, Archangel, Carl and Swinger, Alexis, Julie, Birthday Boy Forrest, Able, Strap-On, Triple Jump, Screwed and Bella, a stray Land Ho! hasher and an assortment of Mini-Penners - Harry, Mason etc etc making the 39 Steps according to Piltdown.

Are you sitting comfortably, then take it away Manpig please:

 

MAYDAY-MAYDAY by our Roving Reporter Man-Pig

No. It is not May. It is September and, despite a poor summer, this was our first damp run since Bobbiball's soggy sausage sandwiches back in June. The weather didn't perturb the dedicated throng of enthusiastic hashers from seeking out the wet weather gear and sallying forth. Well, most hashers anyway. Bluebird and Beefy clearly thought that it was still summer and opted for sleeveless vests only. Sixty-Niner's deferment to the drizzle consisted of the adornment of a white baseball cap and Piltdown Man appeared to believe that he was still on Teignmouth back-beach by wandering around the car park bare foot. Carl and Swinger saw the wet weather as a challenge to take their motorcycle to the hash......no point in having all that wet weather motorcycle gear if you never use it.

 

There was no car parking ballet or pirouettes this week and everyone secured a parking space with ease. Even the late arriving Forrest-Stump who managed to avoid locking himself out of his car this time.

So, what would the Hare have in store for us this week? Wet-Johnny's trails are always looked forward to but it was inevitable that the Long would be, well, Long. And so it proved to be. Later, Beefy's techno-wizardry was produced as evidence in court to prove that the Hare's 6 mile Long was, in fact, 6.99 miles. No virgins. A Long. A Short and a Walkers' trail around Orly Common.....simples!

Walkers exited the pub car park turning immediately right and onto Orly Road. For the rest of us, it was straight across and onto Clampitt Road. Where the road bared left most hashers ran straight on along the footpath following what appeared to be very large splashes of flour on the walls. On closer inspection this turned out to be very poor paintwork. Eagle-eyed Alexa, together with Screwed and Bella, were able to distinguish the difference between paint and flour. They soon had us back on trail on Clampitt Road and the first check at the junction with Croft Road and Blackstone Road - Bird left, Beefy straight on, Pig right onto Blackstone Road, "On-On".

 

At the next junction Blackstone Road joined Conniford Lane and an arrow directed us right to Beltor Cross where another arrow directed us southeast onto Biltor Road. But only for 30 metres. Another arrow took us over a stile and into a field where the FRB's ground to a halt. Any public right of way across this filed was blocked by an non-electrified electric fence. "How did we know it was that the fence wasn't live?" I hear you ask. Well, someone was stupid enough to grab it to find out. Any guesses on who that might have been? Answers on a postcard please marked for the attention of the GM.

 

Our failure to rustle up a Kentucky Fried Bird saw the FRB's navigate under, over or around the non-electric fence in search of some non-existent marks. By this time, insider knowledge had arrived in the form of the mini-Penners. They merrily galloped across the field, belly-danced their way under the new fencing and guided the aimless to the exit stile. Without their insight, I think we'd still be there. It was certainly not an obvious public footpath. This was due to the barriers in the form of both the temporary and permanent fencing that conspired to halt the Hash. This was pretty much the last time that the FRB's would see the rest of the hash as, from here on in, we were going to get somewhat strung out..............some further than others!

 

Exiting onto Edgelands Lane, another arrow saw us recrossing Conniford Lane before being directed down an alleyway that took us onto Biltor Road near Ipplepen primary school. This was familiar ground. Beefy led the FRB's down Orly Road and left into Orly Woods with Bluebird at his heels. Man-Pig and Big End weren't far behind. It wasn't long before the trees extinguished pretty much all daylight. At the L/S and Walkers' split it was definitely torch time. The Longs and the Shorts skirted around the edge of the woods and it wasn't long before we caught up with the Walkers; birthday girl T-Humper and iPoo'd (on Lap 1 of 2!) shortly followed by Rambo......who turned out not to be on the Walkers' trail at all. He was on the LONG......eeeeeeeeeeek!

 

Back on the black stuff it was downhill and sharp right towards Torbryan. I had foolishly selected my summer trainers as the evening's footwear of choice. Badamistakatomaka. They have FA grip on stony surfaces and slippery tree roots. My progress in the woods had been seriously compromised. The net result was that Beefy, Bluebird and Big-End were now way, way ahead of me. The marks were good though and it wasn't long before an arrow pointed us along the well hashed path that takes us up past the Old Rectory.

 

The Old Rectory is a large early Victorian house with beautiful huge gardens and a stream running through it. It's only downside is having a public footpath running straight through the middle of it with noisy hashers running through shouting "On-On" in the middle of the night! The public footpath veers off to the right, crosses a stile and then a diagonal track across a grassy field before another stile accesses the road at Tornewton. Again there were plenty of dots and we turned right towards Wrenwell Cross. After 100 meters a check, but it had not been kicked out. "Are you?" "On-On" came the reply from far off yonder in the direction of the public footpath that leads towards Denbury.

 

I wandered over the the stile and, sure enough, 400 yards distant - three lights! My relief that the FRB's were, at least, within sight was somewhat stymied by the realisation that I would never make up the 400 yard shortfall.......or could I? I was, after all, pursuing TVH's Birdbrain. He's had more Pillock of the Year awards than anyone else and he does have a recurring habit of going "wongwei". A quick prayer for some divine intervention that would hobble the FRB's. Over the stile. Follow the lights that had now exited the field. However, I could just discern their shadows being cast moving down the lane towards Wrenwrell Cross. This was nothing more than a dogleg! I thought about short-cutting and realised that I would only be cheating myself. Oh well, probably a lonely last 2 miles. But, let's see?

 

The check at Wrenwell Cross had been kicked out. But not very well. It could easily have been either left or straight ahead. I gambled left. One. Two. Three marks. "On-On" I shouted, not expecting a response. "On-On" was the reply; not too far ahead and certainly to my right. It was definitely Beefy. Then, lights coming towards me. It was Bluebird and Big-End. They'd overshot a concealed footpath to our right and continued "wong-wei". Divine providence. Beefy, Bluebird, Big-End and Man-Pig were reunited for the first time in three miles as we negotiated the narrow fenced footpath that took us along the edge of a campsite and to the sweetie stop. After our sugar-rush, Wet-Johnny directed us left towards Ipplepen......all road now but we could short-cut down Beech Trees Lane if we so desired.

 

The drizzle continued unabated. However, we'd kept up a good pace and the damp on our faces was very welcome as Beefy took up pole position. Big-End, the Bird and the Pig were all evenly paced but, as always, not quite in Beefy's league. The option to shortcut at Beech Trees Lane was tempting but we stuck to the marks. We would be turning right at Denbury Cross for the final half mile trot back to the pub......or so we thought. At Denbury Cross we came to the last of the Long/Short splits. "Feck that!" This was plain uncharitable. Resolved to do the full trail, we followed in Beefy's wake till we reached Dornafield Cross. Then it was right and, predominantly, downhill back to the pub.

 

Well done WJ. Another excellent trail that gave us a good workout. But, where was Rambo?

 

Where indeed MP, here are some one-liner recollections of the evening:

 

Those cavorting mini-Penners dancing here and there and who reportedly did the long!

Beefy, lethally quick - as usual.

 

Déjà vu at the electric farm-stock wire as Manpig waited for some idiot to see if it was live..

 

Hugely relieved that I could run and stealing a march on MP in Orly woods despite sliding in road flats.

 

Having to stop for the huge St Bernard who barred my way by the Old Rectory - fortunately the owner was there.

 

Two head torches relentlessly closing from behind - Beefy and Big End who had paused for a pit stop.

Wong Wei strikes again - just as MP predicted..

 

'You did kick out the check, Bluebird?' 'Err no..'

 

Manpig inexorably and inevitably fighting his way back to the front-running Beefy, Big End and Bird.

 

Coldtits and 69 traversing the short and 3.65 miles with no trail deviations.

 

Alexis who had a fun time out there if her Strava comment is anything to go by:

 

'Chronic indigestion, heavy rain, pitch dark, totally lost..... nothing not to love really!'

 

Wellington had Doom on draft or bottled Doom with 4X in reserve at £4.20 agogo.

 

Waiting for Godot in injury time as white knight and white becharioted Wet Johnny sallied forth on a rescue mission.

 

'Godot' returns.

 

Getting into bad company with the Penners Four - WJ, Erection, Roxanne and Manopause. Think they had been given the keys to lock up and are possibly still there..

 

DOWNDOWNS

After a little prevarication, Piltdown awarded the Hashit shirt to Mouldy for being suspicious enough to have taken his shoes - I think. Exhibition DD by a former downdown champion!

 

Piltdown (again) awarded the Viking Jester's hat to our rather surprised hare WJ for the On Home marker which apparently took hashers round in circles... what?

 

Loudly did the mad macaw mocking Bird screech when Forrest brazenly retained the homing Horse head hat for two reasons: He had gone Wong Wei astray and it was his birthday away day..

 

Arriving after the badge awards, Strap-On was still in time to award Swinger the Checkin' Chicken hat for not bringing a head torch and then mistaking Manpig for Wet Johnny - in broad daylight! I don't know Sooty, what do you think Sweep...

 

RUN BADGES

Three 100 run badges were presented to Erection, Manopause and I-Poo'd.

 

A massive 1200 Run Badge for our esteemed senior RA organizer Teapot who joins these other Teign Valley greats:

 

Doris 1400 runs at #1796, Rambo 1300 runs #1719 and Wigwam also 1200 runs #1769,

Winfield 1100 runs #1754, Wetfart 1000 runs #1779

 

POSTSCRIPT

Wet Johnny set a right royal rollicking trail and sneaky indeed were the twists and turns along the nigh on seven mile multi-terrain circuit of discovery.

 

By Odin's Oath, it was Shirley tough as teak out there and I seriously considered veering off right for the last short split until Big End encouraged me back onto the long. Whoa! Wet Johnny!

 

ON ON to next week and the Manor Inn at Galmpton with U Bend.

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.'