Hashes

1228

Date : 25/02/14
Scribe : Keyboard Ken
Hounds : 30     Dogs : 0
Recorded distance : 11.33 km
Recorded time : 107.33 min
Uphillness : 708.20 ft

Pulling into the Wendover car park at 7.50 I opened the car door to hear the last of Matt's preamble which went something like "This could be the longest hash, the hilliest hash or the muddiest hash or maybe all three!"

I thought "this is gonna be fun" but as it turned out it was not to be any of these, but something much more memorable.

The Hash emerged from the car park and proceeded left up the hill then right down a footpath and into a field, a very muddy field where Roz who was supposed to be co-haring the event denied having had any part in setting it when she moosed on a particularly muddy stretch.

The muddy theme continued as we ran across the bleak expanse of a field which I thought would never end.

Eventually it did however and it was shortly after this that I found myself running through a huge pile of horse manure that some kind person had cleared off the field - - well it made a change from the mud!

Many fields and a not inconsiderable amount of mud later we arrived in Weston Turville where the true nature of the hash began to be revealed.

We were running through the village allotments when I noticed that Matt was no longer running with us, alarm bells sounded and my worst fears were confirmed when a false trail was declared.

This was to be the first of many falsies.

Next was an abortive trip to Weston Turville church graveyard and soon after this we were required to negotiate a very slippery riverbank and then to cross a stream via some treacherous stepping stones only to have to cross back over once a false trail was found.

In total I counted seven false trails. So yes there was no doubt about it this was the falsiest hash ever. I blame the Berkshire Hash who Matt and Roz often run with, as they include many more false trails on their runs than we do.

Back in Wendover now and I'm staying close to the hare, determined not to be caught yet again. Not so most of the hash however who run off down a back alley footpath. Unfortunately for them the flour signifying yet another false trail has been removed by some mischievous passer-by. So I'm back at the car park all changed by the time they eventually stagger back in dribs and drabs muttering curses under their breath and questioning the hare's parentage!

They say that alcohol makes you forget things and so it was, for back at the pub all was forgiven especially whenwe were treated to a selection of crisps and dips. Nice one Matt (and Roz?)