TVH3 The Words for 16th September 2024
Beefy's, Widecombe-in-the-Moor
Run No. 2041 Birthday Hash
HARE: Beefy
Who
wuz there: Beefy, Man-Pig, Beeflicker, Peter, Forrest, Piltdown Man,
Georgy Porgy, Threesum, Coldtits, Satnav, Roger the Dodger, Big End,
Well Hopped, Ned, Psycho, Warm Front, Slip-on-Me, Fukarewe, Wet Johnny,
Manopause, Pork Torpedo, Homie, Melon Picker & Soapy
Pre-Circle
Pre-circle
it appeared that Fukarewe and Man-Pig were the only ones who had read
Beefy's instructions for parking at his pad i.e. there's precious
little parking at the Beefy residence so park in Widecombe and car
share. Fukarewe and Man-Pig did just that but no other Hashers ventured
into the car park.
"Oh well. It's only half a mile. We'll walk"
And
so we did; only to be passed by Piltdown-Man & Georgy Porgy, Big
End & Well Hopped and Strap-On & Strap Dancer - none of who
stopped to offer us a lift. The list of candidates for tonight's
Down-Downs had already commenced.
Circle
There
is something special, almost magical about running at this time of
year. The trail starts in daylight and finishes in pitch black. At the
start of the Circle, the supermoon was just beginning to peep over the
top of the hills surrounding Widecombe-in-the Moor. By the time Beefy
had finished his brief, the whole moon was visible
Beefy had laid on food, beer and a scrummy home-made chocolate cake.
"Two pounds in the pot please for beer", a bargain!
There
were Longs', Shorts' and Walkers' trails. The Shorts' and the Walkers'
trail would have quite a lot of road. Not so the case with the Longs'
trail.
Trail
To
say that Beefy's house is on the edge of the moor would be an
understatement. We exited out of Beefy's back gate straight onto the
moor heading for Wind Tor where the Walkers would part company with both
the Longs and the Shorts.
The
beauty of the moor is hard to put into words. Behind us the full(ish)
moon was now clear of the hills, resplendent for all to see. Whilst in
front of us was the spectacular red sky of the setting sun. We're truly
blessed and we'd barely run 400 yards.
The
Topiary Twins were FRB'ing with Beeflicker and a fit Wet-Johnny close
behind. Then it was Man-Pig, Manopause and Fukarewe taking a more
sedate pace followed by Big End and Well Hopped.
Heading
northwest we crossed a small road that forms part of the Two Moors way
and the first of the Long/Short splits. I think that this might be
where we lost Manopause. Then it was downhill towards a disused quarry.
This
part of the trail reminded me a little of Beefy's St George's day
trail, but on a reciprocal bearing. In the distance, I could just make
out the Topiary Twins; it was already torch time.
Another
road crossing and another Long/Short split near Rowden Cross. The
Longs carried straight over and and then down to a five-bar gate at the
end of a track. Warmfront was incorrectly checking northwest whilst
Psycho did no checking at all. A hapless Warmfront returned and, so,
down the track it was and onto a road and another Long/Short split. I
think that this is where we lost Fukarewe.
The
sole FRB's now comprised Warmfront, Psycho, Beeflicker, Wet-Johnny,
Big End, Well Hopped and a trailing Man-Pig who had stopped to get his
torch out.
The
trail now went down a steep lane towards East Shallowford. Warmfront
checked out the first public footpath to our left - BONG! wrong. The
second public footpath to our left was more successful.
Here
the public footpath follows the east bank of the West Webburn River.
However, the ferns were so high that you only needed to be ten feet
from the river (more of a brook really) and you wouldn't know it was
there. A loose shoelace meant that I was now probably some fifty metres
behind the FRB's....I wouldn't see them again until we were back at
Beefy's.
The
jungle warfare cadre continued until we eventually came to a tiny
conurbation and a fishhook! No, it wasn't a fishhook, it was a mark for
a tight right hand turn, almost coming back on yourself.
Running
between the old houses in the dark was like taking a step back in
time....rather Dickensian, also somewhat calm and tranquil after a
couple of very minor off trail excursions amongst the ferns.
There
was also a sense of deja due. For some reason I thought of the Mill
House that we'd passed on one of Pisswell's great trails from a couple
of years ago. Unbeknown to me, until looking at the OS map whilst
writing The Words, I was only a few feet from the Mill House at Jordan.
Down
some stone steps, over a planked footbridge and cross over to the west
bank of the river. Sharp left, through a gate and into woodland. It
was absolutely pitch black.
By
torchlight, the boughs of the trees made me think that I was in a
haunted wood. I was sure that I would see torchlight of the FRB's but
nothing.....no, wait, something. There was definitely torchlight ahead.
A detour around a couple of fallen trees and I caught up with
Coldtits.
"Have the FRB's come past you?"
"Yes. Ages ago".
How have I become so slow I pondered?
Pushing
on. A pedestrian gate. More haunted woods, or should that be
enchanting? Certainly, there was something about being out on my own in
this environment that was both peaceful and challenging. I don't know
why I thought there was anything challenging about the trail. It was
excellently marked. It was a warm evening and the scenery, both by day
and night was....well....intoxicating.
Out
of the woods now and a short length of track. On the right were large
granite flagstones. On the left tractor ruts on the broader part of the
track. I definitely recognised this part of the trail but it had been
daylight the last time that I'd been on it. A five bar gate, left and
back on tarmac for the first time in ages. For some reason, the
twightlight runs always seem longer than they really are. Maybe it's
because in the summer you can see exactly where you are and where you're
likely to be going. Whereas in the dark, your only sense of reference
is the torch beam ahead of you. This was neither one nor the other. In
fact, a little disorientating....but a pleasant change none the less.
"SS".
Had the Germans invaded since the Circle? No. It was the sweetie stop.
Half a dozen chocolate covered raisins later I was climbing the steep
incline from Ponsworthy up to Lizwell. Torchlight ahead. It had to be a
Hasher....and one with a dog. I recognise that silhouette. It's Perry.
Soon I was in conversation with Forrest-Stump. The air was warm. Such a
change from last week. Forrest commented on how lucky we were to live
in this part of the world and what a spectacular trail it had been. I
concurred.
Sometimes
its good to run alone. No distractions and time to take in the beauty,
both far and near and both imposed upon you within minutes at this
time of year as the extensive views afforded atop Wind Tor reduce to a
mere 25 foot torch beam in the woods that straddle the river. Another
backmarker. We'd caught up with Peter. His shinsplints were playing up
again.
The last Long/Short split to our right.
"I
can't be arsed", I thought. Besides, I was enjoying the conversation
with Forrest and catching up with the latest from the Edwards family.
In next to no time we were back at Beefy's.
I
can't thank Beefy enough for this trail. Ethereal, tranquil, a step
back in time and, when off trail, a tad eerie. So many emotions.....run!
What run?
Down-Downs
This
was likely to be Forest-Stump's last trail for a while as he is
co-producing this year's Dunsford pantomime. "Oh no he isn't". Hence
Forrest RA's.
The
first order of service is to thank the Hare for a beautiful trail and
for his hospitality. It is also his birthday on Wednesday when he will
be laying the Devon Lunatics Hash trail. We have the Songmeister
present so it is not all the right notes but, not necessarily, in the
right order. it is: S.H.I..Y.T.R.A.I.L.
Fukarewe
has the Jester's hat. Despite the plethora of culprits that overtook
Fukarewe walking to the On-Down and failed to offer a lift, the hat goes
to Psycho. Why? Because, on the way to Hash, Fukawe had to stop in a
lay-by and have a look under his bonnet. Psycho simply glided past and
waved. "Hold it in your hand Mrs Murphy".
The
Jester's Hat is the only award present. Slip-on-Me was wearing the
Hashshit shirt but she's already gone home so are there any stories?
Yes. Poor Forrest fell over on trail. However, he was helped to his feet
by a Samaritan that goes by the name of Wet-Johnny. Now safely
bipedal, Forrest waves Wet-Johnny on his way only to see him fall flat
on his arse. Pork Torpedo strums up with, "You're stupid.You're
stupid....and something about the proximity of cum and Mums.
What
goes around comes around. For every taker there is also a giver.
Fukarewe has already given the Jester's Hat away but he now finds
himself back in the Circle. It transpires that he has pulled over to the
side of the road because he has run out of petrol! "He's the
meanest......."
Watching
all this from afar is Pisswell. She is in Central Park, New York but
not having a beer as the Americans have banned drinking in public
spaces. The wonder of modern technology.
A fantastic evening Beefy. Thankyou for everything and enjoy your birthday.
Next week
Next week's Hash is from Tottiford reservoir. Our Hare is Beeflicker and it is a fancy dress run.
On-On to next week. MP