INFORMATION FOR MONDAY 1 NOVEMBER HASH

Coldtits advises: Circle is outside the On-Down, the Devon Arms. Hashers should bring money or plastic for beer stop. Prize will be awarded for best Halloween fancy dress. Some free on street parking is available in Somerset Place & there are nearby car parks in Quay Road Car Park (171 spaces), thought to be free after 6pm and in Brunswick Street Car Park (56 spaces) but check for charges. Devon Arms is not doing food in the evenings & adjacent Harbour Fish Bar is currently closed but nearby Ali’s Kebab Shop in Somerset Place does takeaway burgers and kebabs, which you can eat in Devon Arms, who have a rear beer garden. There are other pizza, fish n chip shops, etc., within a short distance.

THE REVENGE OF THE RABBIT WORRIER by Man-Pig

TVH3 Run No. 1887 25th October 2021

VENUE: Wick-Dipper and Mouldy Dick's Residence, Clennon Heights, Paignton

 

HARES: Wick-Dipper and Mouldy Dick

 

ROLL CALL: Mouldy Dick, Wick-Dipper, Francesca, Amy, Shit-Faced, Piltdown-Man, Georgy Porgy, Smellie, Strap-On, Triple Jump, Anne, Twisted Tart, Man-Pig, Ali, Able Seamen, Beefy, Pisswell, Pollyfella, Coldtits, Rambo, Erection, Manopause, Mini-Penners (3), Wet-Johnny, The Artful Dogger, Big-End (sans Ned), Well-Hopped, Swinger.

 

APOLOGIES: Bluebird (injured) and apologies for omitting the following from last week's roll call - Bobbiball, Wet Fart, Artful Dogger and the moaning Piddler.

 

THE CIRCLE

The venue had been advertised as the Wick Dipper/Mouldy Dick residence. BYOB but sausage and chips would be provided by the hosts....yummy. Although the temperature had dropped a little, it was still warm for the time of year. So it was that 31 souls descended (or should that be ascended?) upon Wicky and Mouldy's abode. One thing is for sure, we were all going to finish this trail with an uphill slog. It was good to see Twisted Tart again; only the second time in 10 years! I was also intrigued to see her new toy - a Ford Mustang SUV. "Five litre V8?", I enquired? "No. All electric" - that's progress I guess.

 

The Circle announcements comprised Shitfaced advising us that next week was going to be a fancy dress Halloween Hash, "Come dressed up!". 3Sum then confirmed that there would be a Christmas raffle this year with tickets at £1 a strip. The raffle would take place at the Kings Arms, Kingsteignton - the date eludes me....again. Over to Mouldy. "There was a long, short and a walkers' trail. The long would be circa 6 miles.....". How we laughed? Mouldy laying a six miler? Not on your Nelly. However, we would all be laughing on the other side of our faces by the end of the trail. Mouldy continued, "Shorts, 4 miles". More merriment and incredulity. "Walkers to be determined. Follow Wick Dipper". "The marks maybe a long way from the checks" (he wasn't kidding!). "If you see flour - you're ON". We took this to mean one dot and you're ON.

 

THE RUN

The trail did not take us straight down Clennon Rise. Instead it was across onto Osney Crescent. The first check had everyone bamboozled but Well-Hopped opted to check out the Osney Avenue cul-de-sac. Success. At the end of the cul-de-sac, there is a footpath that took us to Fisher Street and the first Long-Short split. The Longs went up Fisher Street before a check had us going down Elmsleigh Road and across the railway line. 

 

We continued down Sands Road and then onto Queens Road. Another check and the mini-Penners got us on trail, across Queens Park and on to the Apollo Cinema. Another check and left for a simple loop around Paignton Green. Well, not that simple. 

 

Nearly 15 minutes were spent checking hither and thither before Wet-Johnny decided, "It must be down the coast towards Roundham Head". As we passed Paignton Pier, we picked up the trail again, heading due south along the seafront and through the arch into Paignton Harbour. Around the harbour, onto Roundham Road and then left onto Cliff Road before dropping down for our zig-zag around Roundham Gardens. From here it was pretty much a reverse run of Mouldy's trail from 2 years ago. All along the seafront, past Goodrington Sands and Water World and up to the viewpoint above Three Beaches. Here another check had us on a path turning inland and exiting onto Dartmouth Road opposite Grange Road.

Turning left off Grange Road, we followed the trail due west on an uphill footpath towards Clennon Hill. We were on trail....but which trail? The next thing we see is Erection, Manopause and Small Erection coming towards us. Were they still on the Short? A U-turn for the Longs and a descent to where the Longs and Shorts merged. The descent was a tad slippery as we gingerly headed towards the Clennon Lakes and crossed Clennon Valley Park and picked up the trail again at Brentwood Drive.

This is where we simultaneously lost the trail. We could only check left or right. Wet-Johnny and Big End went left. Man-Pig and Polyfella went right.....for ages. It was not until we reached the junction with Penwill Way did we find another mark....only 600 yards between dots here! Mouldy was not joking when he said, "You might need to go a long way before you find a mark!". Down to Dartmouth Road and, at last, the "On Home" sign.

 

This was way longer than any of us had expected. The stoic Mini-Penners had stayed with us and put in a good pace. A fantastic effort by our young hashers. But not quite as fantastical as the Artful Dogger's recount of the trail. He had turned up late and ended up doing the entire trail on his own. However, we're not quite sure which trail he was following. Sometimes it was the Long; sometimes the Short and sometimes no trail at all. The trail on his Strava looked like someone had deposited a plate of spaghetti all over his iPhone. He must have clocked up 11 or 12 miles even though his, obviously malfunctioning, techno-gizmo had only recorded a paltry 7 miles!

 

A very good run, made all the better by the long distance between the marks......which kept hashers guessing.

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

Back at the Wick-Dipper residence, Mouldy had erected a large tent in his back garden. This was the improvised On-Down, restaurant and pub for the evening. Although the run had been dry, the rain was just commencing as the last of the Longs were returning. Hence it was with some relief that we found ourselves under cover in a large, but nevertheless snug tent for the Down-Downs. 

 

As the rain started to increase in intensity. the floor of the tent began to get wet as hashers traipsed from car to tent, loo to tent, kitchen to tent, rabbit hutch to tent etc. I was, therefore, both delighted and surprised to observe Shitfaced dutifully mopping up the damp patches with an old rag. How thoughtful of him!

 

The first award was actually an award outstanding from a fortnight ago - the jester's hat. Beefy awarded it to Wet-Johnny for, as the Yank's say, "hitting on me". Apparently, Wet-Johnny had made the comment, "Hey. Looking good tonight Beefy!". Does your wife know about this Wet-Johnny?

 

Big-End had the horse's head hat to dish out. There was some story about an experienced hasher not being very good at checking. Despite covering 400 yards along the seafront at Paignton Green, this hasher had not found a mark and had turned back shouting "No marks". Had he persevered for another 5 yards he would have found five closely spaced dots. The error of his ways had been compounded by the fact that the Hare had told him where to go. Who on earth could be so stupid? Man-Pig did, indeed, look more and more sheepish as this sorry tale unfolded and was duly awarded a down-down for appalling checking.

 

It was Smellie's turn to name and shame as she had the third award of the night to allocate to some deserving soul. Well, I don't know how long Smellie had been back in the tent or how much she'd been drinking. The narrative regarding the award was all about erections. Big ones. Small ones. Canvas ones. She couldn't get enough of them! Ultimately it turned out to be a story about child exploitation. 

Seasoned Hasher, Erection (that's Big Erection) really couldn't be bothered doing the checks. However, just like Santa, he had a little helper - his son. Hence, on arriving at a check, Big Erection would send his son (Small Erection) checking for marks. A vote was taken on whether the down-down should go to the big or small erection with the Big Erection winning the vote......a vote for Ivor Biggun then.

 

Finally, Shitfaced had the Hashshit shirt to award. The soiled, damp rag that he held before the gaping crowd seemed peculiarly familiar. Why? It was the rag that he'd spent all evening wiping the tent floor with! What sin was so heinous that it deserved such an award? Once again the story reverted back a fortnight to the run from the Rugglestone. Apparently, one hasher had made a bit of a night of it. So much so that, when he got home, he only made it as far as the bathroom; never even seeing his bed till the following day. Which party animal could this be? None other than the Hare for that evening - Beefy. Well, Beefy wriggled and squirmed suggesting that the Hashshit shirt was big enough to fit over what he was already wearing. The crowd were having none of it. "Off. Off", they bayed. Reluctantly, Beefy donned the odorous, dank rag and sank his down-down.

 

There was one beer left but no awards. What to do? In time honoured tradition, Mouldy awarded himself the last down-down and made it disappear in pretty swift order.

 

Well done Wick-Dipper and Mouldy for your hospitality, the trail and the venue. It must have taken a fair old while to get that tent up. Let's hope that it dries up soon to allow you to take it down and pack it away dry.

 

Next week the venue is the Devon Arms, Teignmouth. It is a fancy dress Halloween run. Judging by the map gazing taking place in Mouldy's tent I'm guessing that our Hares will be Polyfella, Coldtits and Smellie. I am advised that the beer on tap is Gun Dog or Deckhand and that food can be got from the chippy and brought into the pub.

 

On-On to next week!

 

Post script: The Revenge of the Rabbit Worrier?

We had a bit of difficulty locating Wet-Johnny for the Down-Downs. He was the only one not in the tent. Apparently he was worrying the rabbits and, as his name suggests, getting wet. Read into that what you will?

Monday 25 October location map

 

THE GOOD SAMARITAN & THE GHOSTLY GHOUL OF KERSWELL DOWN

Run #1886 from the Park Inn, Kingskerswell

 

Date: Monday 18th October 2021

Hares: Man-Pig & Bluebird

Drinks hostess: 3Sum

 

Hashers: Man-Pig, Shitfaced, Wet-Johnny, Roxanne + mini-Penners x 4, Arkangel, Only Here for the Beer, Two Little Shits, Grinder, Deep Throat, Alexis, Tamsin? (the dark haired lady on the Long), Gaga-4-it, Slip-On-Me, Pisswell, Wet Fart, Smellie, Piltdown Man, Georgie-Porgy, Rob (Shitfaced's cousin), Strap-On, 3Sum, Martin, the gentleman that I was talking to in the circle that might even not have a hash name, Zoot, Hot Lips, Ali, iPoo'd, T-Humper (food orders), Big-End & Ned, Well-Hopped.

Apologies: Forrest Stump (who had pantomime rehearsals), Bluebird (who had home commitments to address after having spent the afternoon laying the trail), Beefy (fixing power steering failure), Man-Pig (oh, woe is me. Without the Bird's cinematic record I have Shirley missed the names of many in attendance. My humble apologies.)

 

THE CIRCLE

Shitfaced welcomed all to the Circle. There were no virgins to be christened but a couple of returnees. Shitfaced made a couple of announcements regarding forthcoming events. The votes had been counted and we were going to have a Christmas raffle. This would take place at the Kings Arms, Kingsteiegnton - I have forgotten the date. Additionally, there was going to be a Christmas Party this year. This will take place at Teignmouth Sailing Club on Friday 10th December. Tickets are £7.50 for members and £12 for non-members. Thank you 3Sum for organising that. Finally, food orders. Hands up. T-Humper counted the hands for sausage and chips and advised Park'n'Ride that scoff time would be circa 9 - 9.15 due to the drink stop at chez 3Sum's.

 

Over to the hares......or should that be hare? Man-Pig apologised for the absence of co-hare Bluebird - an issue had arisen at home but the Bird would Shirley make it to the pub for a post-run swifter. There was a Long, Short and Walkers' trail. There was also the opportunity to Short-Cut but both the Walkers' trail and the Short-Cut were only marked at the beginning of their respective trails. They were on straight tracks/roads from which you could/should not be able to deviate. The Walker's trail would join up with the Shorts and the Short-Cut was a downhill road back to the village.....simples! There was one Long-Short split. The Longs would be spending a lot more time off-road than the Shorts, even though the Long was probably only 0.7 mile further than the Short's.

 

Approximate distances were mumbled to a disapproving throng: Longs circa 5.5, Shorts, 4.8, Walkers (if you survived the split down a very steep slippery bank) 4.2, SCB's 3.7. 

 

As a bit of an experiment, Bluebird had marked some early parts of the trail in orangey-brown chalk. Unfortunately this had faded badly in some parts due to the afternoon's rain. Other than that the trail was laid in flour using a combination of arrows and dots. On-On.

 

THE TRAIL

Crikey! Wasn't it humid out there? I have never know an October in the UK to be so warm and clammy. It reminded me of my time working in the Gulf. Strap-On commented that it reminded him of early mornings in Houston, Texas. I would have thought that, being in the middle of the desert, Houston would be bone dry. Apparently it has a lot of lakes which were probably the source of the humidity. Fortunately the afternoon's rain had cleared but there was still a warm mist in the air. The mist partially obscured an almost full moon which peaked out periodically when the mist dispersed only to cloud over again a few minutes later. One thing was for sure, no-one was going to get cold despite it being mid October.

 

The good thing about living in a country with long hours of daylight in the summer and long hours of darkness in the winter is that the Hares can cheat. You see, a trail can be re-used four times and most hashers would remain unaware. Simply lay the trail clockwise and then anticlockwise. Repeat this for one run in the summer and one in the winter. It is amazing just how different the perspective is between clockwise and anti-clockwise trails. In the dark, one can only see as far as one's torch beam so you could be almost anywhere.

 

The trail took us over some well hashed ground that most of you will have covered at one time or another. Over Kerswell down and down the long farm track to North Whilborough, then road to South Whilborough. Carry on past Colliers Barton towards Edginswell. Under Hamlin Way and double back on the new footpath that takes you over the railway line near the Texaco filling station. A right turn behind the Hare and Hounds and up Southey Lane to our drinks stop.

 

The Longs parted company with the Shorts just before exiting the woods on Kerswell Down. They dropped down to the Bickleigh Mill and then looped round and up Windmill Lane. Turning right at the windmill and passing Styles Garden Centre before dropping down an ancient track to rejoin the Shorts at Colliers Barton.

 

The Drink Stop comprised mulled cider and garlic bread. It was a well earned respite from the incredibly sticky and sweaty weather. 3Sum's garden looked lovely with illuminated fence panels, nice non-slip composite decking and a very efficient brazier which allowed weary hashers to de-robe and let their bodies breathe without getting cold. All very convivial.

 

The last part of the trail was all road but not without its adventures. Arriving at the Lord Nelson Smellie and I observed four police cars, an ambulance and a fire engine both above and below Kerswell Arch. Both the main road and the road outside the Nellie had been closed. What on earth was going on? I knew that Network Rail suspend rail services when there has been a bridge strike so we assumed that there had been some sort of vehicular accident. We made our way back to the Park Inn totally oblivious to the actual events unfolding before our eyes on Kerswell Arch.

 

THE DOWN-DOWNS

Some of the recipients of last week's awards were absent. Nevertheless, there were enough to go round.

Arkangel was the first to name and shame. Smellie had had an electrical malfunction early on. A distinct lack of illumination from her headtorch saw poor Smellie attempting to struggle along the unstable footpaths of Kerswell Down aided only by the light from her iPhone. Hence an award to the "illuminati".

 

Piswell had already left the pub to help Beefy with his power steering. At least that's the story that she was telling everyone. Nevertheless, she had left the horse-head hat with Shitfaced to award on her behalf. It appears that being a sexagenarian can become very tiring. Especially when you are driving. So, what better than strapping a settee onto the back of your car so that you can have a comfy rest whenever you so desire....even if it is a wet settee. For some reason Only Here for the Beer has spent that past week driving around Kingskerswell with a settee on his trailer. I do not know if he is delivering or collecting. Nevertheless a down-down to Only Here for the Beer for taking relaxation to extremes.

 

In the absence of a physical award, Slip-On-Me had received a virtual award the previous week. Slip-On's award went, again, to Only here for the Beer. This time it was taking short cutting to extremes. Apparently OHFTB exited the back door of the pub and simply re-entered via the front door. Trail completed! That's what I call shot-cutting. OHFTB nominated Park'n'Ride to take his down-down on his behalf. I have never seen a pub landlord drink so slowly.....no rush now Andy.

 

There was one drink left but no more awards. Hence we thought about a naming for Ali. You may recall that Ali does not like beer; she will be sick if she drinks it. Hence the naming was postponed. Nevertheless, it was observed that Ali had always attended the hash wearing black tracksuit bottoms. However, now that we've had the first wet day in four weeks, Ali had decided to wear shorts! Why? Due to her beer allergy Ali nominated Hot Lips to have the final drink on her behalf. this was swiftly dispatched to a chorus of, "Here's to Miss Lovely Legs....." etc etc.

 

That pretty much rounded up the evening.

 

THE TITLE

Why on earth have the Words being donned with the title of "The Good Samaritan and the Ghostly Ghoul of Kerswell Down" I hear you ask? The Good Samaritan refers to the incident at Kerswell Arch. Apparently someone was threatening to throw themselves off Kerswell Arch and onto the busy A380. This occurred at about the same time as the Walkers were returning from the drink stop. I have little information on this incident but I understand that the Walkers were instrumental in preventing this loss of life before the emergency services arrived. Well done. It reminds me of the title of Kate Adey's book, The Kindness of Strangers, such an evocative title.

 

And, the Ghostly Ghoul of Kerswell Down? Bluebird is an extremely seasoned hasher. He very kindly offered to help me lay the trail. With metronomic precision he arrived at the Park Inn bang on the two o'clock appointed time. At the Long/Short split we parted company. I laid the Long whilst Bluebird laid the Short with the assistance of a map that I'd printed off for him. This time Bluebird had remembered to bring his glasses in order to enable him to actually see the map. What could possibly go wrong?

Picture this if you will?. Man holds bag of flour. The bag is made of paper. It starts raining. Man walks around in the rain for an hour. Bag gets wet. Paper bag begins to disintegrate. No problem. I will patch it up with Man-Pig's map. It rains some more. Pop. Bag eventually gives up the ghost covering Bluebird from the chest down. He still has half the Shorts trail to lay but no flour. So, what does he do? He scoops up the damp floor and puts it in his pockets to lay the rest of the trail! Really? I ask you?

 

It gets even better. Bluebird loses his way so he refers to what is left of the rather soggy flour-covered map but he can't read it because it's covered in flour. Oh, I'll just put my glasses on. Now his glasses are also covered in flour. Wet flour at that which is turning into a gloopy paste that will stick to anything it touches!

 

The next time I see Bluebird is at the point where the Longs rejoin the Shorts. Forty minutes earlier, I had left Bluebird wearing blue jeans and a dark blue jacket and a light blue baseball cap. What appeared in front of me now was more reminiscent of a very cheaply made B-grade horror movie from the fifties. He was covered in flour from head to foot. Even the baseball cap was white with flour. The Bird's futile attempts to brush off the flour with wet hands had just made matters ten times worse. "It's a disaster Man-Pig" as he recounted his sorry explanation of what stood before me.

 

Having completed laying the trail we retired to the pub for a well-earned half. You could tell where Bluebird had been. A combination of flour on the floor and on the bar. Everything he touched was covered in gloop. It was only when the Bird had to put his glasses on to see what beers were on tap, that I saw that his glasses were covered in sticky flour too. You'd have to have good eyes to see through them! Finally, when he came to pay by credit card even his wallet was covered in flour. Only the Bird is capable of creating a major catastrophe with nothing more than flour and water.

 

On-On to next week at chez Mouldy Dick's, Clennon Heights, Paignton.

WHAT DID YOU SEE? NOTHING. IT WAS DARK! by Man-Pig

Run #1885 Monday 11th October from the Rugglestone Inn with Beefy.

 

I am always a little doubtful about the wisdom of laying a trail on the high moor in winter. It is dark. There is little in the way of reference points to assess where you are, even more so when you are off road. Additionally, Garmin's and Strava's have their limitations when you are off road, especially if you have a rather antiquated Garmin Foretex 201. Hence, it was with a little anxiety that I jumped in (the wife's) car for the long trek up to the Rugglestone. The moor is surely a thing of beauty by day but, at night, it can become treacherous. Like most hashers, I also suffer from a little trepidation with the prospect of running alone in areas that I do not know well - particularly at night....and even when carrying two torches and a phone!

 

Despite the distance from Kingskerswell a very respectable number turned up for Beefy's trail from his new home in Widecombe. The Kingskerswell contingent alone comprised Hotlips, Zoot , Ali (who doesn't like beer) plus virgin, GM Shitfaced, Threesum and Man-Pig. Next door, OK, Abbotskerswell, attendees included Strap-On and wife. Even further afield we had the usual Teignmouth contingent of Georgie-Porgy, Piltdown and Smellie. The Penners were back in force, Wet-Johnny, Erection and "Two-Pies" Manopause who informs me that he was not the only one who scoffed two pasties at last week's On Down. However, the mini-penners were absent. No doubt October's exceptionally mild weather helped swell the numbers?

 

Zoot and Hotlips had brought a virgin which Shitfaced welcomed into the Circle in time-honoured fashion. There were no notices although Man-Pig had forgotten which pub we were running from next week. This was despite being the Hare. Beefy offered little in the way of instructions apart from advising that both the Longs and the Shorts would find themselves on the moor at some stage. There would also be a sweetie stop and an opportunity for a toilet break! Has TVH3 really aged to that extent already?

 

The first check was at the entrance to the car park. Despite the Bird having done his usual warming up exercises, which usually includes a sneaky pre-run check of the trail, he exited stage right only to find that he was not on trail (BB: deliberate loiter as I hadn't been reccying and wanted to avoid accusations later!). For some unknown reason the Pig wondered if we might be doing Beefy's June run but in reverse. Hence the Pig exited stage left and soon found himself on-trail as the FRB.

 

It was not long before he overrun an arrow that took us through Widecombe church cemetery. It must have been 15 years since we've been through here on the Hash; one of Poacher's I seem to recall. The thermometer on the car read 16.5 degrees when I left Kingskerswell. On reaching the Rugglestone the temperature had dropped to 9 degrees and there was a dampness in the air. The daytime warmth emanating from the stone pillars that supported the access gates to the churchyard was distinctly noticeable - just like mini radiators. That was the last warmth we'd enjoy till we returned to the pub.

 

Exiting the cemetery, an arrow directed us across the road and across the village green. Wet-Johnny out in front pursued by Big End, Ned and the Pig. But what of the Bird? Nothing. Our flightless friend had disappeared into the ether. We sped past the Old Inn towards Wooder Manor before arriving at the only Long/Short split on the trail. If Beefy's blurb was accurate, the Shorts would be doing 3.2 miles and the longs circa 6 miles and no opportunities for short cutting. My guess is that the Shorts retraced the last part of Beefy's June trail whilst the Longs continued to the footpath that eventually joins up with The Two Moors Way; a right turn here would have taken us onto Hamel Down and eventually to Grimspound for a re-run of Pisswell's run from Challacombe Farm. We would not be turning right.....too far!

 

The trail did, indeed lead up the long track to Kingshead. The last time that I had been up here was with a Devon A2B hash well over 10 years ago. I knew pretty much where it was going but it looked different somehow. Had the route of the track changed over the intervening period or was it the darkness? My earlier trepidation began to evaporate, even as we headed for the high moor. The marks weren't just good, they were excellent. Although Wet-Johnny was now some 200 yards ahead of us, Big-End and I had settled down to an even pace together. It looked as though I wouldn't be alone after all. Looking back from Kingshead, we caught a glimpse of a single hasher behind us. Was it the Bird? Was it Beefy sweeping the Longs? No. It proved to be Broadshit. The only other hasher on the Longs. Although we didn't find that out till we got back to the pub.

 

Past Kingshead, we found ourselves traversing a couple of fields that were only accessible by climbing over two high stiles. This was all familiar till we got to a 5 bar gate that took us onto the Two Moors Way. A huge arrow directed us left. Not much further we came across a cross laid in flour. We looked around and saw another large arrow pointing down a track in an almost reverse direction. We were on open moor now but after 500 yards we started a descent down a narrow but steep track with a stone wall to our left. This is definitely a track that I have never been on before. Ahead, we could hear Wet-Johnny calling quite regularly. Ned was just in front of us. We could follow him easily as he had something around his neck that looked like a blue glow-stick - but it flashed. At least we wouldn't lose the dog! This track proved to run past the back of Hatchwell Farm. It was a jolly long track, a little unstable underfoot and I was glad when we reached tarmac at Gamble Cot.

 

Only now that I'm working out the route from the ordnance survey map in front of me does the penny drop. We were now on the road that we would have taken to Pisswell's trail at Challacombe Farm. At Gable Cot a check had already been kicked out by ace FRB Wet-Johnny. So left it was, heading due south for the best part of a mile. I was convinced that we would have to turn right at some stage. However, referring to his GPS, Big-End reckoned it should be a left turn that we needed to take. The trail took us straight through Rowden Cross and to our left we could see a dim light. It didn't seem to be bobbing up and down so I didn't think it was a hasher....just a slow car with poor lights. I was wrong.

As we reached the next junction, we came to a check that had not been kicked out. However, we could hear Wet-Johnny calling "On-On" to our left. Big-End's sense of direction was correct and it had been Wet-Johnny's head torch I'd seen and mistaken for a slow car. We kicked out the check and turned left onto a small road that forms part of The Two Moors Way over Dunstone Down. From the top of Dunstone Down we could see the tower of Widecombe church - maybe a mile distant? Just as we started the steep descent towards Southcombe - a cross! What? We're almost home! An arrow to the right took us on a southerly track, bordered by a stone wall to our left. We followed the wall, and the abundance of marks, until we came to the hamlet of Higher Dunstone where the moor gives way to tarmac.

 

Maybe we'd become too accustomed to looking for blobs of white flour but, somehow, we clearly missed the enormous green illuminated arrow. No one had mentioned glowing arrows in the Circle. We knew where we were now. We didn't think we'd gone off trail. So, where was the sweetie and toilet stop? So close. Only a glowing arrow away.

 

We picked up the marks again as we turned left towards Lower Dunstone. At lower Dunstone four dots in a row swept us right and down towards Chittleford. A fast downhill and then an arrow left towards Venton. At last. The "OH" sign. Select a higher gear for the final canter back to the pub car park. In the final leg Big-End commented:

 

"We're really lucky to be able to go out onto the moor and do a 6 mile run. I'd rather have this than a posh flat in London".

 

"Yes. We are, indeed, fortunate to have all this on our doorstep".

 

Thank you MP and now the usual details plus the adventures of the Bird:

 

Roll call almost impossible to see in the dark but I've given it agogo:

GM Shitfaced, Piltdown, Georgie, SM Ellie, Steph, Beefy, Pisswell, Wet Johnny, Manopause, Erection, Strap-On, Ann, 69, BroadS, Man-Pig, 3Sum, Satnav, Gaga4It, Slip on Me, BB, Forrest, Hotlips, Zoot, Ali, Archangel, Big End, Melon Picker plus virgin making 28 or perhaps 29 Rugglestonies.

 

THE BIRD CAPERS

With most of the week missed with injury, the Bird fretted, clucked and trilled as he pondered the wisdom of hashing up on the savage moor. However, the thought of staying in and wondering what the lads were doing was an even more bitter pill for the Bird to Swallow [Shirley as sic as a parrot].

Mindful that three strikes and you're out, the Bird decided for once to be sensible and not put himself about on the long. The trail shoes (yes, I had listened to Beefy) were taken out of storage, examined but ultimately discarded. The grip they afforded not able to offset further aggravating existing injuries. And so the drums sounded their familiar beat of 'Hoka Hokum' as the Bird headed for the moor amidst the splendour of the setting sun..

 

A knot of hashers were already in the car park, booking their chariot tether in case of congestion. Young 69 had dropped by, Forrest - with a large dressing on his shin after having a disagreement with a sheet of corrugated iron, BroadS on a risk it and go as a biscuit visit, were joined by Man-Pig sans his Men in Black cruiser - in for repair and the Grand Master himself to be sure Shirley.

 

Now listen carefully, I will only say this once: the ag-ed Bird has to warm up before every run nowadays and this night he informed the mini gathering that he was orf to limber up.

 

There are only two ways to go from the Ruggles - left back to Widecombe or right up the hill into the boondocks. It was the latter that was chosen and walking, stretching and limping the Bird gradually got going. Nary a mark was seen - to the Bird's relief - as he was not about to be tarred and feathered [sic you fools] by Beefy for advance reccying.

 

On the way back, Piltdown drew alongside and enquired if the Bird had run all the way from Maidencombe!?!! Down over the hill and there was a brand new X that Shirley was not there before. And there was a check just outside the car park - Beefy was late laying evidently.

 

The circle was already convened and all the details of the run were missed - but as I was not going to embark on the long it would not be a problem - the warm up had not gone well.

 

The ON ON was called and note thee well, the Bird loitered at the entrance as Man-Pig and Wet Johnny exitoed Widecombe side. Forrest's call of 'We'll follow Bluebird!' eliciting a furrowed brow from Beefy who quite rightly harboured doubts at what the Bird had been up to previously.

 

From mid-pack, the Bird slotted in behind Man-Pig as the climb to the crossroads unwound - calling MP back as he had missed marks over a stone stile. The pack clambered over as the Bird saluted and abandoned ship to set off to have a little road run on his lonesome.

 

At the junction by the Old Inn, most remarkably dots appeared going left and up into the hills. 'That's 'Andy, 'Arry, pop it in the oven!' mused the Bird and off he ambled adventure bound.

 

But what trail was I on? Long, short or walkers? If it was the long, I would Shirley incur the wrath of the FRB's and the hare! An arrow pointing skywards beckoned and what a hill of woe unfolded as the Bird struggled to the stars themselves. Nothing behind, no lights, no calls - no retribution yet.

 

A left turn onto the moor (and apparently there was a L/S spilt mark here?) and the dreaded off-road but the Bird had found a game to be played and play it he Shirley would, whatever the outcome.

The marks were deluxe de Beefy standard and even a slight deviation was punctuated by an arrow. Bravo Beefy! 

 

Lonely as a cloud did the bedraggled Bird wander over the starlit moor, ever guided by the wise hare's marks. The sharp downhill was the only 'downside' and the injured legs did not like it up 'em one bit.

And now Oh Dearly Beloved, we come to the heart of the matter and I may be able to give 'illumination' to those that missed the Green Arrow and SS (which I was unaware of).

 

Immediately hitting the concrete there was a blob by a low wall. Continuing straight down for fifty yards with NO marks - and an alarm bell went off in the Bird's tiny brain and he retraced his footsteps back. AHA! There were two more blobs close together which would have been hidden coming down.

It did look as though the trail went into someone's garage by all the parked cars but just off to the left, a lane opened up. Around the corner and the Bird stopped to gaze awestruck at the splendid green arrow - reflecting back the light from his head torch. The magpie Bird had never seen such a beautiful thing and even contemplated claiming it as a trophy - thinking it was a council direction sign for a concealed byway.

 

Fortunately for the Bird, the desire passed and he unfastened a gate and proceeded but... what was this, it led down to a house, this Shirley could not be right! But the marks were clear so it must be a strange right of way but the house owner Shirley could not be happy with all and sundry flitting past 24/7?

A window was open so turning off my head torch, I tip-toed past and legged it when clear - that was a close one!

 

Back on tarmac true and a couple of hundred yards later, another strange sight did assail mine eyes. A large band of walkers (Gaga4It, 3Sum, Satnav and Uncle Tom Cobley and all) led by the be-staffed Grand Master approached, going against the marks! What on earth was going on!!

 

The Bird babbled his close escape from the chateau of fear and warned the walkers to proceed with caution. They didn't seem that interested so I left them to the mercy of the chateau's owners, who Shirley would hear the large group passing.... It was only much later that I discovered it was the SS at Beefy's abode.. Whatamistakatomaka!!

 

Oh the glory of the flattish road but all too soon the OH appeared and it must have been the short trail I was on as barely half an hour had elapsed. I determined to get my money's worth and set off for another lap - and even more adventure as it turned out.

 

Turning off again onto the moor, a shout! Shirley that was Wet Johnny, but how was that possible? As I coursed across the moor, the shouts continued from a tangent above and to my right and were getting closer. I called back and on hitting the concrete legged it past the Green Arrow one more time and fled for the final mile, determined to hold the rampant Wet Johnny off. A quick chat with Archangel en routey and the OH passed for the second time. 

 

In the Heat of the Night (1967) the legs just about held up and triumphantly did the Bird enter the car park with an hour on the clock.

 

WJ, Man-Pig and Big End were not that far behind having covered a fair more distance on the long. BroadS had a similar experience to me with a solitary trek on the long with (I think) only trail sweeper Pisswell behind. I needed a beer after that..

 

ON DOWN AND DOWNDOWNS

 

Snug as bugs in a Rugglestone were the hash après trail and the Butcombe hit the spot. Forrest was the RA and the awards went thus:

 

FUKARWI and POLE DODGER (not Dancer as Forrest stated again!) had popped over for a pint and took the opportunity to thank the hash for their support of Pole Dodger's fund for his upcoming competition. A round of applause from the hash.

 

Forrest awarded the Cheeky Chimp hat to SHITFACED for 'Popping out'.

 

A DD for SLIP ON ME for her 'long p***er' hound.

 

Confusion never far away, in the absence of Beefy, Forrest given a DD as 'substitute hare'.

Right on cue, BEEFY appeared in the doorway and was awarded the Viking hat by 3Sum for the SS cum toilet stop at Beefy's 'Green Arrow' abode.

 

PISSWELL had the Homing Horse Head hat to award but was (thankfully for me!) too late to award.

 

POSTSCRIPT

The evening turned out a lot better than anticipated and yet another adventure to savour. The ground that Beefy covered was prodigious and notable for the excellent marking for which I was most grateful. It was well worth the journey, thanks Beefy.

 

ON ON to next week and the Park Inn at Kingskerswell with Man-Pig.

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

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

 

Roll call:

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

 

THE SANE VERSION of the trail words by Man-Pig

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Thank you MP and now:

 

FLIGHT OF FANCY (INSANE) VERSION

 

When all at once a mighty herd

Of red eyed cows they saw..

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

TRAIL & BAR TITTLE-TATTLE

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

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

Good to see POLYFELLA back on trail after injury.

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

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

 

THE DOWNDOWNS

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

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

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

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

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

 

EPILOGUE

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

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

Well done the hare.

 

POSTSCRIPT

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

Glad you happened along though!

 

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