Date : 22/01/19
Hare : Wing Co , Wing Co
Scribe : Crazy & Female Prerogative
Hounds : 18     Dogs : 0
Recorded distance : 8.63 km
Recorded time : 77.05 min
Uphillness : 466.30 ft

The first attempt

I get to do the write up for this Awesome Hash!

What an honour, midday beautiful blue skies, the hare even removed his jacket while laying the trail at 2pm, a mere 5 hours before the run to ensure fresh flour, what could go wrong, expecting a good turn out, we notice, as the pack found the 9 back, 8 back and 7 back luckily as the hounds stayed within lamp light of each other these were more dizzying than arduous.

Prior to this at 17.06 on whats app, the evening began to take shape

Rachel innocently asks "Anyone worried about driving to Hashing. My husband thinks it is a bad idea" this kicks in a round of traffic news and weather reports, followed by numerous reports of people not being able to get home by 17.40 sounded like driving anywhere was pretty much ruled out, so obviously cycling was the only sensible alternative.

A virtual hash was put forward, and indeed the air drop of white stuff, obviously arranged by WC  would allow hashing to take place pretty much anywhere, but I don't think it is my job to do All the hash reports, so back to the Official one.

At 7.45 having ridden past the static queue of cars trying to get out of Marlow I arrived to be welcomed by WC who had also cycled, locking up and changing shoes we were joined by Caboose who had trained to Marlow and walked, the hare was most gratified to suddenly double the number of hounds, and from the pub door we virtually checked it out, off across the field opposite, checking was actually easy, WC had cycled to the pub following the route, so the tyre tracks were a bit of a giveaway to be honest, the going was surprisingly hot I soon had the vents and coat open with gloves and snood in the pockets, sharp cornering was not an option and the camber track was interesting, no one went short, and the 3 of us stayed together and did not make one wrong check, so despite leaving a little late, almost 8.00pm we were back at the pub by 9.05 on arrival the barmaid "Did he catch you up?", "who?" "another hasher set off after you", "what did he look like?", "Brown hair, with shorts on" (we were a little confused) even more so 20 minutes later when Hawkeye in longs came into the pub, It seemed unfriendly to make Hawkeye drink alone, so Caboose and I accepted the Hares offer to get another round of roosted nuts, and Nobbys nuts.

So claims for the Hash, a carless run, (Hawkeye did drive, but failed to follow the hash) to give him his due he had been surprised at only 3 sets of footprints on the on out, and thought he may be following keen dog walkers rather than the usual pack of hounds.

No chips!, but all drinks and nuts paid for by the hare.

No mooses just a few slides, spotlessly clean hash shoes after a hash.

And as Caboose pointed out at 10.45 not one hasher had left the pub yet :)

And in case anyone wonders, yes Hawkeye gave me a lift home ;)


 The Re-Hash

It was eerily quiet in the car park of the Three Horseshoes on Thursday (yes, you read that right, Thursday) evening as the hardy few (as opposed to Tuesday’s foolhardy fewer) gathered for the re-hash, numbers having been very effectively culled since the previous week’s turnout of 49. 

Somehow, even without an ear splitting whistle from the (absent) GM, the pack was called to order by the Wing Commander, aka Zebedee, who provided the shorts with a map and explained that the longs would be running a live hash, the flour having been camouflaged by snow. 

Demonstrating his elite military training, the hare advised us that should he get lost in the woods, he would sound his ‘I’ve lost my mummy’ whistle. 

Then we were off, across the road and the field. 

The ground was, as Bigfoot commented, “crunchy”, and littered with 7s. 

Early conversations centred around stories of Tuesday night’s blizzard and the ensuing chaos on the roads, people’s journeys home/people failing to get home. 

The hare reappeared at the long/short split and we continued: ten longs and five shorts. 

It took a full 25 minutes for the snowball fight to begin, and it continued for the rest of the hash. 

Despite the snow still on the ground, the hounds were not all as cold as Bigfoot, who announced that he needed a wee but was reluctant to remove his gloves and/or expose his delicate parts to the elements. Cockers immediately showed us a textbook example of nominative determinism by offering to give him a hand. 

Then followed a fascinating mathematical/biological discussion regarding size and proportion. 

While Andy was feeling cold, Kitty was presumably overheating, as Not Bridgette was overheard offering to “snow” her and suggesting she put snow “down her chest”. 

In the midst of all this, there were numerous onbacks, almost exclusively 7s, and the general consensus was that the hare had too much flour and was jettisoning some weight. 

Since the pack was unusually small, many of these onbacks involved a pirouette/do-si-do type move.

We had hoped for some inside route knowledge from Crazy, who had run the original hash 48 hours prior, and also followed the same route on a bike bash a few days before that. At various checks, we asked him which way to go, but he was never sure, explaining, “Last time it was white; now it’s brown!” It turned out that Speedbump and Bigfoot had a better recollection of the route from the time they ran it on the WC’s last hash in the summer, and that was when they went the wrong way and lost the rest of the pack for most of the hash. 

Crazy was thus renamed Crazy Goldfish, and with eternal optimism (or was that sarcasm?), Scribbler was heard asking at a check, “Goldfish, what’s your swim bladder telling you?”

Shortly before the ON INN, and having been distracted by a warning cry of “HEADS!”, Scribbler head butted a particularly sturdy branch and sank dramatically to his knees. He made a good recovery and somehow we all ended up back at the pub, to find the hare relaxing with the shorts. He had felt the need to show off to the extent that not only did he run a live hash, he also managed to meet up with the shorts at various points along the route. 

Beers and biscuits were consumed, there was a distinct lack of shouty speeches, and everyone went home happy that they would be waking up to a Friday instead of the usual Wednesday.