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Run
577 Another good turn out particularly as this run was a joint run with South Herts. HHH, who normally run on Saturday afternoons, so this was well past their bedtimes. The joint run was to mark Robert, our hare’s, 70th birthday! Unbelievable as he doesn’t look a day over 68. For the benefit of the HWH hashers, Robert explained the SH hash rules, under which we would be running. Unfortunately most HW hashers, who were chatting about Ken’s Welsh bash weekend, missed this. It certainly sounds like, those like me, who could not make it missed a damn good weekend. A few high lights included Ros attempting an Evil Canevel style leap over a cliff, Alan seriously bending his bike and Ade seriously bending his head, after head butting a mountain. Once the On - On was called, the South Herts were off like grey hounds, from the trap. HWH still standing around discussing the G.M.’s bawdy rugby song singing, in Wales. At this point, although, the cloud cover was heavy, it looked promising for staying dry, until our return. From Mobwell we crossed a muddy ditch, which should be the river Misbourne, and on into Great Missenden. At one point, it looked like we were heading for the beer garden of the George but no such luck. Instead it was up Whitefield Lane to Roald Dahls house. From here it was up through Hobbshill Wood, where it became ominously dark, so dark, that torches would have been handy, and we heard the first rumblings of thunder. Two false trails later, it was on into Atkins Wood. At the edge of the woods, the thunder and lightning started, proper. So of course, the hash sheltered, under the largest trees, it could find, despite Ken’s objections of it not being a terribly good idea. HWH3’s Rodger pointed out that when thunder clouds, have a yellow tinge, it usually means there would be on hell of a dump of rain and as we know Rodger is rarely wrong. By the time the hash was moving through Prestwood, the heavens opened. With the lightening now overhead and rain, the like, I have only seen in a rain forest, during the hurricane season. The hash split, some taking the most direct route back, the rest attempting to press on down though Angling Spring Wood. But with the path running like a river, any flour had gone and so had he hare. At the edge of the wood, what was left of the hash, regrouped, with the rain now hammering down, with biblical proportions, after a brief discussion, the unanimous decision, was “lets fugov to the pub.” A sprint back to the Black Horse was necessary. (Maurice’s training paid off.) A marquee, in the pub car park, complete with a water feature, was commandeered, as the hash changing room. So for the second week running Lesley had naked men to laugh at (GM tried to impersonate Troy). One thing needs
explaining to me, I didn’t see the hare run once, but at each
check, he would be standing at the front, hands in pockets, calling
the On – On – HOW?
Wales Weekend Bike Bash and Hash The Talgarth Trots
Sunday saw the Hash actually hashing. All the more surprising really as all portents the night before were positively negative. Just how Gerry and Ian managed to get up at 7.00am following the rendering of a few Church Missionary Ditties the night before courtesy of Ken and his Father, - and set the hash trail instead of having breakfast, - I don’t know. So, 11.00 am was the Welsh Witching Hour on a lovely sunny morning and we all duly assembled in the Car Park for the briefing. I say ‘assembled’ in a loose sense. Hashers were appearing from all quarters of the globe having climbed the local landmark 609 metres high mountain called Mynydd Troed. Curses echoed around the valleys as they hurdled barb wire fences into the car park, - just to commence the hash on time. It was feeling like a normal Tuesday evening as ‘Spot’, - my Border Collie partner for the day, (from the pub), was doing a ‘Cassie’ on me, and straining at the leash. ‘There is a theme’, Gerry said. This caused a bit of working out from yours truly, who 240 yards into the run found a ‘GM only’ back arrow. Half a mile later, at Pengenffordd, another long ‘On On’ across a field ridden with sheep’s dropping and I was beginning to get the message. Yes, my friends, another ‘GM only’ back arrow, - (this one was especially tough as I decided to be a good scout and go all the way back to Graham our Oxford Hash guest, - and walker, - before being told by both hares to ignore his snail’s pace and just ‘run to the back of the runners in future’, - in future? what future?). So gasping for breath with the pack in the distance I duly followed the pack or tried to as the trail went back up, up the bleedin’ mountain Mynydd Troed again! Across a Mynydd Commonn and down into a Mynydd ffield to a Mynydd ddwelling that had a Mynydd ggate though which we had to wwalk careffully. Ffalse trails ggalore on the Mynydd byways to Genffordd and dammit another ‘GM only’ back arrow. (I now get the future). I was ggetting ggiddy, look you Bach, and Wwelsh Wwales was getting me ddown. Lesley, Lenore, Ken and Mark were already wary of the joint Hares’ body language, after their several false trail excursions but nobody, thankfully, fell for Gerry stating that he was ‘tying his shoelace’ in the hedge, at another obvious falsie. (Ed’s note, actually Lesley did, but then she is a blonde) So, back to the fields near Middle Geniffordd, through a myriadd of ththistles, over sseverall sstiles where a Lladies check meant Llesllyy was sent over a ffence, though nnettles, more ththistles on another ffalsie. Back down the mmeadow to where we had beenn ffiffteen minnutes before. (Ed’s note, actually we hadn't but one ffield does llok a lot like another) By now another 4 ‘GM only’ check backs and, surprisingly, I had worked out the theme for the day. Knock kneedd and knknackerredd, - I then ffoundd the most amazing mmirage before me. Fflappjacks, ffresh strawberries, single cream, beer, water, and ccashew nnuts ffrom the bboot of Gerry’s car, courtesy of Rose, Rita and Jilly. (Ed’s note – such was the speed of the hash that the walking visitor who set of before us not only kept up with us most of the way around – but actually beat the hash to the strawberry stop!) Ppretty pperfect pplace Pengenfford. The Talgarth Trots, it so proved, especially as 6 Hashers went down with the squitters on returning to their respective homes the following day. Not me though, The Griffiths’ coal ‘ole miners are a bunch of tough old buggers having been weaned on bracken and sheep manure. Could this be rrevenge and rretribution ffor your misdemeanours, Gerry and Ian? Six ‘GM only’ back arrows indeed! Bblooddy ggoodd
Hash though! - Thanks to all concerned. The Black Mountain Bike Hash. Hare
Ken We were the Magnificent
Seven, intrepid and not entirely unskilled in the art of cross country
biking. They were Wayne and Waynetta, unpaid professionals in the
guise of amateurs. Together we were a quorate nonet, ready for anything. PPS Ed's
question: if you were lucky enough to see a Whale off the coast of
wales would it be a fluke?
Run
no 756 Moose as usual was just late enough to delay us, but not by that much as half the pack seemed to have difficulty finding the pub. In my case forgetting to bring my running bag to work, and forgetting to take the map, are to be blamed on my family reunion in the far west of Ireland (Dingle to be precise, which has the highest pub density of any small town in the world – that is in my limited experience of pubs and small towns). For the mathematicians among you my intake of Guinness was definitely uncountable. Our
hare declared that he admired my firm hand last week and would emulate
it; so saying he pulled out an enormous water gun. Him being an FRB,
this decided me that short-cutting was the order of the day. Mathew
introduced a new innovation circle:
Run
no 755 Another great turnout and another pleasant night at least it was until Maurice explained his new rule! Apparently he feels that the FRB's aren't fast enough and needed speed training so he implemented a new back check, (new to HWH3 anyway), he called it a sprint back - the rest of us called it a torture. The idea was that whenever you got to a symbol that looked, Maurice assured us, like twin lightning all of the FRBs, plus anyone at or near near the front - and even passing OAPs out walking their dogs, had to turn around and sprint to the back of the pack. Mostly the twinned lightning sign looked like a marker for the Nazi Waffen SS, and once or twice it looked like a Swastika. And it seemed like it! The Police also took an interest, but more of that later. We set off (with me checking in the wrong direction) down Alpha Close, then up the huge Gore Hill towards Coldharbour farm. The path was very rough and overgrown and ideal for ankle breaking or stepping on to passing dogs (sorry Cassie). Because of the narrowness of the path the FRBs got well ahead, the rest of us got caught behind the chattering classes. It
turned out that this was a good thing as most of the pack tore on
past the next check without noticing it and had to be called back
from half way up the hill - only to run up it again in the field next
door! A few SS's later and a fast jog down Tower Road took us to a
check. Because nobody would go left when it was soooo obviously right
I checked left, found the on-on ….. and immediately got caught
by another of Maurice's infernal devices! While sampling the alcoholic delights the walkers joined us and we heard that they had been stopped by someone inquiring about the flour markings. Apparently the police had been hot on the trail and had, we were assured, wasted many valuable hours in the false belief that the markings were left by itinerant vagrants with the sole desire of robbing all of the houses in the area. What they made of the SS signs remains a mystery, as does the reason why they assumed that flour is the infallible marking of a villain - though in Maurice's case with his sprint backs…..? Soon we were on-on again and got caught by a wicked false trail down by Coleshill House. Historical aside: although Coleshill is believed to date back to the a Middle Saxon settlement in eighth century. It is named after a lawyer who brought and sold it in the 1600s. The lawyer's name was George. Back on the trail, a very long but swift downhill took us to Amersham where I was so bemused to be in front of Sam and the other FRBs (probably a first for me) that I forgot I had parked 250 yards from the pub and ran straight past my car and was nearly back to the pub before I realised! Still, it was worse for Sam who got back to his car only to remember that Delores had his keys and was still walking back from Coleshill!
In the pub the evening was truly memorable or should I say Mammarable
- as the pictures on the web show, or should I say sex-show? If you
haven't seen them yet go to the “pictures of past runs”
page and click on the photo of Lesley's somewhat unladylike gesture!
Or click here
Run
no 754 Not much had been happening in the town lately. Noddy had been keeping his head down in an effort to keep out of the ever watchful gaze of P.C. Plod. Crime clear-up rates in toy town were a disgrace. Plod couldn’t catch anybody. So, in an attempt to improve clear-up rates Plod did what any good standing Bobby should do … hit the motorist. People had been booked so far for only having two hands on the steering wheel, removing a hand from steering Wheel to change gear, driving over cracks in the road, excessive use of wheels, that is having all four in contact with the road at any given time, and the one that worried Noddy the most, driving in a loud shirt after the hours of darkness. Plod had managed to Tee off the whole town! It’s in this atmosphere of gloom that we find our hero, lying on the bank, can of beer in hand watching MTV… Bored, bored, bored. The phone rings, it's Bigears, “Hello Noddy you’ll never guess what that clown Plod has nicked me for now – he’s nicked me for being seen out with an offensive wife (Ed’s aside – Monty Python rocks!). I need the uplifting effects of a good hash, are you up for it?” “Who’s setting it?” said Noddy – “the GM, Benchbreaker” “Think I’ll go back to bed” said Noddy (Only joking) Noddy put down the phone, he could feel his mood lighten, nothing like a good hash to raise the spirits. The two friends drove down to Turville, Bigears driving and Noddy asleep in the passenger seat. “Wake up Noddy”, Noddy looked around. The first thing he saw was a windmill – “Hashing in Holland” thought Noddy. Then he saw the hills, “Hashing in the Alps” thought Noddy again. The GM gave a short speech that nobody could hear. “Speak up” said everyone “We can’t hear you” so after straining to hear instructions we were off. The hash has recently picked up some new runners, mostly rabbits, who, after the dust had settled, could be seen best part of the way up the hill towards the windmill, set as it is a thousand feet above the village. Suddenly all came scurrying back down again. Fox ! no, false trail, serves them right. Zip! All the rabbits are through the fence and legging it up the field on the right trail this time, leaving everyone to run along behind the best they can. Now let me tell you this is hashing in some of the best countryside in the south of England, nothing like the Chiltern hills on a warm summer’s evening with the prospect of beer and chips later and P.C. Plod's patrol car siren on the breeze as he pulls another poor begger over for having no lead in his pencil. Noddy checked left, only to be told by some stroppy farmer’s daughter that he was on private land and should s*! off quick. “Sorry, only checking out the hash” said Noddy. This kid wasn’t having any of it, she started off again tell Noddy he must be lost!! "I don’t think so" said Noddy, now between clenched teeth. Off she went again, Noddy didn’t catch any more as he thought better of it, and better catch up with the rest of the Hash, besides any more and she would have got half a dozen lace holes up her backside. Kid’s today think they’re fire proof. Up the trail a bit, flushed with the success of his first false trail, the hare was a bit disappointed with the lack of success of his second, hoping to catch the hash again he called it himself. That was very naughty and not in the true spirit of tricking the hash - caught the rabbits again though! True he should have been ashamed of himself. Should be, but probably isn’t. At the next check all of the people with short legs took a shorter route down the hill to the pub, while the rest of us did our best to tire the rabbits by tackling an extra mile or two, and another hill. After a long check up hill, three of us took a slight detour to catch to catch the rest of the pack at the re-group. On arriving, having done the long route, checked uphill and probably an extra couple of hundred metres longer on the short cut, got told off by Lesley for short cutting. Lesley, I’ll have you know, took the shorter option with the shorter legged runners and then had the cheek to wig us for taking a more scenic detour “What a sauce!!” All the toy town hashers were now assembled in one place so the GM, who was also the Hare for the evening, took the lead for the run-inn, hoping that this would get him some brownie points after disgracing himself earlier. The whole hash nearly got run over by some tear arse that P.C. Plod had failed to nick. Storming up the road and scattering all the rabbits into the hedge. Safely back at the pub we found the walkers – Dolly Jilly and Dolly Roz surrounded by about fifty dogs already relaxing with a couple of beers. The pub was quite full and very quaint. Outside the garden was full of hashers and very noisy, infact riotous is closer to the mark . “The hash is getting more boisterous by the week” said Bigears. So with the light fading all the toys made their way home. P.C. Plod, however, was hard at it, he had just pulled over someone for having no rear light on their walking stick, he also has suspicions the M.O.T. had run out as well! Crime clear-up rates were going up this month. And the Hash? …. Not bad for a beginner. PS thanks
for the chips, even if they £2.00 each chip – Jilly told
me how much they were on the way home – Scandalous! Cheap as
chips! I don’t think so. Now I come to think of it I wonder
how much the beer was!?
Run
no 753 What
a day for Gill to celebrate her and Dom's last run. A fitting venue
“the Gate”, as this one closes another opens, but what
a night blue skies, warm evening, sunshine, a venue in a valley, Uh..oh..
that means hills all around, and what a hill to start with.
Run
no 752 Well, what can you say about a run like that – Aaaaaghhhhh! seems to cover it. But perhaps a little more detail is required. As we gathered in the car park rumours flew around that some people had “insider” knowledge of the run - and that it was going to be “easy for a change”. Rob’s previous runs from the pub have equated roughly to Mount Kilimanjaro. I won’t say who was spreading these wicked (and very, very false) rumours – but Mick and Barney ought to be ashamed of themselves. The first indication that all was not going to be easy came in the Hare’s briefing, when he told us that there were lots of back checks – and every one was for 8 (yes eight!!!) people! There was also some discussion about cars with 4 circles, which either meant that there were four loops on the trail (numbered cunningly 1 – 4) or that the trail would be better if driven around in a 4 x 4. A nameless person (Lesley) said that Ade was looking almost blonde. We set off along the trail by the car park and came, almost immediately, to the words On-Inn written upside-down on the path. Sadly it wasn’t an ultra-short hash and we trekked on to the first clearing with its dozens of possible trails - all uphill (which became a theme for the evening). Eventually the on-on was called and, having got to the next check, we were called back as we had gone the wrong way. Apparently we were following the route back from the second loop. I guess we should have listened to the Hare’s briefing when he said all blobs are on the right – someone had foolishly called the on-on for a blob on the left. Now, to be honest I don’t actually know where we went next (my memory lapse probably being caused by scarcity of oxygen at the top of the hills) but it was generally upwards, with numerous 8 back arrows. Amusingly SCB’s Mick and Barney got caught by the very first back arrow as, unlike the rest of us, they hadn’t gone the wrong way and so were at the front of the pack. Some time later we arrived back at the beginning of the next loop and Nick found a strange symbol. Some people thought it looked like a swan that had crash landed, others thought it looked like half a house (especially if you tilted your head to one side and squinted). It turned out to be the number 2 with a blob on the top – indicating we had truly started on the second of our four loops. This loop took us to a regroup on a narrow downhill path where Rob told everyone that we were looking at a natural amphitheatre and that the hills around it had been there since Roman times! This, apparently, could be proved by looking in another direction, through the impenetrable trees to a hill we couldn’t see, where there is the remains of a Roman villa. For the next 5 or so minutes Roger, Ken and Ade tried talking in Roman accents. They didn’t say why. Their accents would not have been out of place in a 1950’s East End street market - so their grasp of the finer points of Latin must be considered questionable. (Cultural aside “Suum accent eram atrox”) The third loop was memorable because Gill was rude to the hare and he immediately cancelled the short cut by way of retribution. We also stopped and tried to listen to the countryside which, Rob said, was “What it’s all about”. But all I heard was some stupid birds squawking so I may have been listening in the wrong direction. A little further on Roger and I checked and found the on-on - but as we returned ‘cos of a back arrow, nobody believed us – and I had to circle back and forth 3 times as not a soul would do it! Roger got caught twice and then got caught again at another back arrow 50 yards further on! The fourth loop took us up to Whiteleaf Cross which has two Bronze Age and one Neolithic barrow (the Neolithic one is believed to be older than the pyramids) and where archaeological digs have discovered a Bronze Age spearhead, a Romano-British plate broach, 2 Roman coins and a practice trench from World War One. As ever the views were stunning and, as ever, we were too out of breath to enjoy them. Still 10 out of 10 to the hare for trying. A long jog down hill took
us back to the pub where we bid a fond farewell to Gill – our
last founder member - as she is moving on. But, having presented her
with a card and a Bonsai she told us she would actually be back next
week!
A double-write up from Steve - so as soon as you have finished reading about the normal Hash, read on for the bike bash! Run
No 751 It was a lovely crisp evening, with the sun glinting off the roof of the telephone box when we gathered at the Three Horseshoes. It was a good turnout with including Dick who cycled in from West Wycombe, even though he'd done exactly the same ride on Sunday so must have known precisely how knackering it was going to be. So, off we set, left out of the car park down past the green towards a path which I remember oh so well as being spectacularly steep and unpleasant. As we started up it I was beginning to think of what I could have left in my car that I might need to go back and get, when, joy of joys, we discover it's a false trail. Whoopee as the kids say. Around we turn, back up past the pub and left into the field. Now, Simon has a theory about the way Audrey and Kerry set their runs, which, since he told me he wasn't going to be here this evening I feel duty bound to explain to you. He claims that against expectations their runs are always really long because they set them mainly by lobbing some flour out of the car window. So in case you want to recreate this run I shall be marking the route with the road names. So, left from Horseshoe Road up the field to Andridge Farm, back down the hill the other side to Grange Farm Road. Then a right up towards Crowell Wood. Just about the point where I was beginning to wonder whether it really was possible to drive up here we all stopped to admire the flowers which turned out to be wild garlic. Very handy if you meet any wild vampires I suppose. Simon decided that we must take a right up to the road so he sent Ade off to check, and sure enough the closer we got to Sprigs Holly Lane the more frequent the blobs of flour were. At the top, a few foolish people were suckered by what was clearly a false trail, before turning round and heading left up the road. Then we took a right down through Venus Woods before reaching enough wild garlic to keep a farmers market stocked for months... The general consensus was that we were bound to head up the hill the other side, and as usual the general consensus was wrong. We headed down the valley for a long stretch before coming out of the woods and being confused by a mark pointing in to a driveway clearly marked as private. On being assured by the hares that this was the way,
we shuffled up the drive towards a country residence which, unless
I'm very much mistaken was the setting for Brideshead Revisited or
that place where Mr Blobby had a theme park ... or something a bit
posher than we're used to anyway. After a short break, where some people definitely looked nervous and kept wondering whether they could hear sirens, we set off back to the pub. Up the road to Town End Road and back into Horseshoe Road for a gentle trot back to the pub. I'm not convinced by the setting the hash by car theory, but hell, even if it was true we still ended up with a great hash (obviously apart from the celery). Bike Hash
The mere fact that we'd had a torrential downpour on Saturday (when Ken was out setting the trail) was enough to put off most of the fair weather cyclists, so it was only the most dedicated and best looking hashers who gathered at the Five Horseshoes to experience what was actually a really lovely morning for riding around the Oxfordshire countryside. Now, I have difficulty remembering where we've been on a normal hash of 4 or so miles as opposed to 20 miles of bone shaking terror, so the route that follows is probably not entirely accurate, but it'll do for you. So, from the pub we headed up to Russels Water and took a right down the footpath. 'Mind the step' says Ken just in time to stop us disappearing over a small cliff face like a pack of two wheeled lemmings. Left at the bottom heading down into Kittesgrove Wood, then right up the first of the days hills. A few twists and turns and plenty of mud and we headed up through Copse Wood to the Road. A right and a left and a bit of a scare with a Mini driver (no not that one.. or that one) and up to Oakengrove Copse. At this point, Matt who was showing a metaphorical clean pair of heals to Wayne and Ade on their fancy modern bikes disappeared off into the distance whilst the rest of us who were hanging around at the back with the hare managed to go the right way instead. Wayne and Ade set off to retrieve Matt, whilst the pack did the traditional thing and just carried on regardless. We had to cut out the slow bicycle ride down Colliers Hill but we made up for it with a slow bicycle push up Swan's Way (no not that one either). Then a long slog along the Ridgeway all the way up into Christmas Common. Down (well on the map it's down... up and down and up and down is probably more accurate) into Pishill (see hashtrash passim for Pishill jokes). Then a very nasty long pull up the Pishill Bank - the best bit of which was the slurry. Once that was over though it was just a skip and a hop (not easy after 20 miles with no suspension) back into Russels Water and the pub. When I told Ken that I was going to write it up,
he even bought me a pint. He must have thought that I'd give it a
good review just for that. My standards are of course higher than
that, but luckily he splashed out on crisps as well - so cheers Ken,
great bike hash.
Run No
750 It was a splendid evening as 30 fearless souls gathered in the presence of the Hare and prepared to celebrate our 750th run with a competition, prizes and some particularly nice weather that had been especially laid on. Everyone had to sign their name to a box to try and guess the date of the first ever Hash. Only two people tried to work it out. Alan, who thought for about two minutes and unfailingly put his name in the right box and Lenore, who spent about 5 minutes calculating, then another 5 minutes when she was told there are not actually 50 weeks in a year – and 1991 had had 53 Tuesdays. Her mental calculation technique was what teachers call “interesting” and she plumped for wildly the wrong date. We will return to the Saga of Lenore later. As we gathered the GM ordered that the Hare be stripped to the waist. (No Audrey/Kerry, not down from the waist, down to the waist!) and re-dressed in a special 750th Pub T shirt which proclaimed that he was “In it for the Long Run”. He then told us the rules and set us off. The first check was up toward Enid Blighton’s cottage on Coldharbour Lane, then left to the gravel pits. The pits were certainly not ”the pits” and scored an impress 10 out of 10 on the beauty scale - with the sun reflecting the evening sky gloriously in the shimmering water. Ade explained that the lake was haunted by the ghost of a young girl that drowned there. He said that he never “felt himself” when he was there. Good. Across the railway track and down to the river we went, with the GM’s pooch’s reprobate behaviour and obedience being thrown into sharp relief by both Twist and Matthew’s, very well trained, dog Jack. The pack turned right along the Thames to Marlow rugby club where we found the long-short split. The Hare demonstrated his grasp of new technology and innovation by trying to draw two arrows and the letters L and S with flour thrown from a 2L milk bottle. I can’t say it was successful, The S looked like a map of England after the continent had been squashed into it and Wales had moved up to Scotland. The” L with arrow”, however, was proclaimed to be a masterpiece of modern abstract art as it had a deep and profound connection with the inner id. Unfortunately, as it didn’t look much like either an L or an arrow the artistically naïve amongst us were left, like any following hashers, with no idea where to go. As a result I took the L route, which went on down the river, under the bypass and through the backstreets of downtown Marlow to a regroup by a railway crossing. A poor cyclist made the mistake of coming close to us and was met by a verbal torrent of badinage from the GM - with the intention of turning him into a hasher, but the more probable future effect of making him “run a mile” if he ever spots us again (ed’s note – so perhaps it worked?). On-On was back over the Marlow bypass where, with immaculate timing we met the shortcutters. Audrey, Kerry and Mick suddenly appeared together through a hole in a hedge, but the less said about that the better. And if the phrase “Ménage a trois” was heard it was probably just the whispering of the wind. A false trail or two later and we found ourselves in Little Marlow heading down to the church, a re-group, and a quick half mile dash back to the pub. Lesley in particular, who had short cut due to a painful leg, stormed ahead like a steam train, before getting caught by a back arrow and having to storm back like a steam train going in the wrong direction. But back to Lenore, who had obviously been calculating dates all the way around the hash and asked if she could change her entry. As we knew the real date had gone and so it made no practical difference, we let her go ahead. She went on to explain in great detail how we had run more times than she had realised (she obviously has a problem with the concept of 750?) and as we had run more times than she thought, it obviously needed less time to do it (female logic?). So she moved her calculation in entirely the wrong direction. Then, three minutes later she came back and said – “I moved my date in the wrong direction!, can I have another go?” Whereupon she proceeded to make it even worse by moving yet further in the wrong direction! (Ed’s note: Poor Lenore, she does set herself up for it with her “postage-stamp UK” – but I guess at least is shows we care about her). Back at the GM’s
presentation there was a 750th cake, a prize for Alan and a bottle
to celebrate Vienna, winning a bronze medal in the All Finland Under
22 Ladies Basketball Championships last weekend.
Run No
: 749
Dunno quite what happened there then, but never mind here we all were on a reasonably pleasant spring evening outside one of the best boozers around if you happen to be a bit partial to either good ale or rot your socks off zider. Phil gave a very short preamble, forgetting to mention bar checks, regroups, palmerstons, pamelas and in fact almost anything of use except for some strange mutterings about an “L” and a blob – presumably of flour. Baffled (nothing unusual there then) we set off down village lane to a check which a fair few had spotted already. There had been a promise of bluebells from Phil – no he was not going round giving them out but taking us along what he had enthused about as being bluebell strewn paths. Hence, it was no surprise when a right was called along the track leading towards Church Wood. A bar check was soon reached and yes it was one of the ones which Phil elected not to mention. After a bit of milling about we doubled back to head on up to St.Mary church where, I think it was the Hare himself, who held up a spade pronouncing that do it yourself burials were on offer. We then ran on into Church Wood where the bluebells were indeed out in profusion. I don’t quite know how Phil conjured up so many paths and mileage from what is a relatively small wood but we seemed to go round and round and up and down for a fair time, most of which was between swathes of the aforementioned blue thingys. Towards the end of our sojourn in Church Woods, Phil pulled. Whilst lingering on behind the pack to organise what I can only surmise as being the dastardly “L”, he came upon an unsuspecting runner out for a quiet plod and immediately insisted that he joined us. Welcome aboard Graham. Running out of the woods we took the track across to Hedgerley Green to join Wapseys Lane. Strange name – who or what is a Wapsey. But never mind, back to the plot. A short right hander led us up to Hedgerley Lane for a quick shimmy over the M.40. Here Phil pulled a fast one with most of the pack hanging a left down the footpath next to the motorway only to find out to their annoyance that it was a wrong ‘un. A short pull down Hedgerley Lane led by Maurice (Hat Man), who seemed to have some strange urge to check aided, as was discovered later, by the fact that he had spotted the white stuff on his way to the pub and hence couldn’t go wrong, led us to the now time honoured long/short split. Now being a shortie, I can only guess that you longs went through Bulstrode Park passing the big house and then back through the park to pass Ponders to come out after a lot of legwork back on Hedgerley Lane. For us shorties, it was a long but gentle downhill pull down the lane to the only footpath enabling a return to the pub without intergalactic mileage. I am glad to report that our new hasher, Graham, was sensible enough to go short and avoid the Philathon, A nice path under the M.40 led to open fields which had Janet muttering nervously about cows. It was here that Graham demonstrated great potential by declaring that he knew where we must be going and then proceded to lead us all, except for Janet who sensibly didn’t get sucked in, across a wet field in search of a non existant footpath. Nice one – natural hashing aptitude for getting lost in a small field. Back on the right trail, we came again to another non-mentioned bar check and then retraced our steps to re-enter Church Woods. It was here that the “L” came into it’s own being a clever scheme by Phil to use the same flour as on the outward trail by merely saying that the blobs were now on the left. A nice little saving. A pleasant retracing of part of our route through Church Woods led back to the village and the quite heavenly White Horse although I would mention that the patio heaters ain’t half hot if you sit right next to them. Ed's note - An extra special mention for Alan who lost his phone (for the second time on a hash!) - he went back and, against all odds found it! Shame he couldn't find the (much bigger than a phone) hash again! but went tearing off in the wrong direction, down the wrong path, to a place he wasn't meant to be. Also, and rather amusingly we all thought, despite being a local lad and knowing the area like the back of his hand, he got hopelessly lost. Having found his phone he decided to "Phone a friend" to ask if the friend knew where he was (You can tell Alan's a promising hasher!). Naturally the friend (who was in Milton Keynes) couldn't help. So Alan plodded on, lost and alone in the wilds of his local countryside. Eventually Sandra found him and brought him (grinning broadly) back to the pub! Nice one Phil. Mick
A tremendous turnout that our dear Mike would have been proud and honoured. Indeed, before the off we all did honour Mike and fondly remembered him thanks to a few words from David and Mick and the handsome plaque Mick erected on the nearby tree just a few feet from where he sadly died last year. So to our run, the on-on was called by the hare along Common Lane to the first check at the edge of Littleworth Common. On-on along Boveney Wood Lane to the next check announced as a short/long trail split, - either along Park Lane or a short cut through Dorney Wood. (I naturally took the short-cut so maybe “Ed” could fill in this report for the long trail.) Ed's commentary: GM David, who had been told the route, took charge, took the lead and took the iniative to call on-on. He also told Lesley to let Cassie off the lead. This was a mistake. Before we had got to the next check Cassie, with the GM after her, had high-tailed it off in pursuit of some animal, smell or just plain adventure. The next 10-15 minutes consisted of the pack waiting patiently at the check and the GM bellowing very loudly from all point of the compass. When the miscreant was eventually re-captured, the pack was a long way behind schedule, which was a pity as we were meeting up with the short cutters in a few checks time. David leapt into full sergeant-major mode-ordering the pack off at a terrific pace and insisting everyone ignore the back-checks to make up lost time. Soon we were back with the short-cutters. The trail was a wee bit uneven although Kerry, usually a walking-runner had found her running form and was setting the pace when Rob Green spectacularly moosed into the mud. We met up with the rest of the hash at the edge of Burnham Beeches in Park Lane and the trail led us off into the Beeches. Burnham Beeches can boast of unique protection via a corp. of rangers, rather like a national park. The duty ranger soon detected our presense and drove up to enquire about our intentions. Mick explained we were trial running to Mikes memory and the ranger, to our surprise, had a sympathetic understanding towards hashing through the beeches, just requesting that we should of informe them of our event. Well, whilst I have hashed many times in Burnham Beeches every path always looks the same as the previous and only the names of the lanes offer a clue as to where you might be. Another clue was provided by a rusty car wreck that was labelled as a desirable buy from “Dodgy” Dave Griffith Motors. We were all doubtful of a sale knowing the dubious reputation of the dealer and how long this motor had been in stock. (Featured in Lesley's run at the Crown, East Burnham 16/11/04). I think we emerged from the Beeches at Pumpkin Hill and I began to recognise the trial from the crossroads back in the direction of Littleworth Common. At this point another long/short split left our small band of short cutters depleted and following the hare across fields. It started to rain and I was glad to reach the on-in at the corner of the Common just as the storm intensified and as the rain came down cats, dogs and stair-rods we quickened our pace back to the Blackwood Arms Car Park. The long legged hashers still out on the long route were getting well soaked as Mick shortened the last section back to the pub. (Note from the long-cutters, the last mile was entirely underwater and was only possible through the acquisition of face masks, snorkels, aqualungs and a tow from passing dolphin). The Blackwood had an excellent
drop of Breakies and an array of sauces for a multitude of chips.
It being “Tosca” night David was on form and a nervous
looking Sandra was duly awarded for setting her virgin hash. Well
done and we hope this will be the first of many. (Ed’s question
- how can Sandra set “many” virgin hashes?)
Run
No 743
Barney then proceeded with a long story and complex explanation about bar checks and direction arrows, why I don’t know, as that would be the only one we would see all night. A quick On-On from the first check led us right out of the pub and a short stretch of road, then left across two ploughed fields, where fortunately the going was good, on and down through some woods to Clappins Lane and the first long/short/medium split. The long /medium runners continued down hill into Upper North Dean. So far the going had been excellent, gentle pace, good weather, daylight and down hill. Then came the next split at Old House Farm. It's always a bad sign when the hare takes the short cut and today was no exception as we set off on the climb to Speen, even Sam and Ade were slowed to a walk (to be fair they had both, 2 days before set their P.B. in the London Marathon). No stopping Wayne though, who reached the top and the back arrow before anyone else was half way up. At Speen confusion reigned for a while, before a distant On-On from Roger on his way down the other side. Another steep climb through assorted fields of horses and cattle brought us to Walters Ash and the regroup with the shorts. Over the main road down beside the Coppice Wood and we were only half a mile from the pub. It was the last long/short split, with the longs of course going in the opposite direction, down the hill and into the Banjo playing, web footed capital of the universe, home of the Ann Robinson charm school Bradenham. (See G.M’s run report – Red Lion Bradenham 15/02/05). A dash round the Manor and a climb up to Naphill Common and again, much confusion. Apparently the hash got lost here once before and had to ask directions or so I have been told, well one shiggy infested beech wood at night, does look like any other, where’s Rogers G.P.S when you need it? The high light
for me was a sprint finish over taking Sam and Ade (perhaps I should
not have mention they were recovering from the Marathon!!!!). All
in all good pub, good chips, great hash, well done Barney.
Run:
746 Another good turn out on what looked to be a wet and miserable evening. As we huddled together in a small corner of the massive car park, missing our usual enjoyment of the latecomers trying to squeeze their cars into non-existent places, the clouds grew darker and it started to rain. Just in case anyone had been on another planet for the last few weeks, Matthew produced an L plate “Just Married” banner for Gill which evoked congratulations, and surprise at a newlywed having enough energy to do a Hash! Congratulations Gill! So off we all set, along the road over the motorway, over our first stile onto a grassy climb. People were muttering about Combe Hill at this point, but having never been there I couldn’t see what the problem was. Conveniently the FRBs managed to miss the 3 on-back and the 2 on-back and hurried over another stile onto an on check. Left it was, over a stile (or was that a couple of stiles?) and on up the hill and into the woods. Nice big blobs of flour made the route easy to follow, and what joy, the ground was good and the rain had stopped. The next on check was perfect with the opportunity for the brave to indulge in a bit of chestnut horse stroking (Roger was very brave). Having had a good stretch of our legs it was on and up into the woods where the ground rapidly deteriorated into an unavoidable shiggy which was only broken by “roots” and stiles. Satisfied that all those freshly cleaned shoes were nicely coated with lovely sticky mud we carried on over a few more stiles and into Dunsmore Village. Twist and Cassie were beginning
to perfect their under and over stile technique (Twist going under
and Cassie over). We were getting quite Our two new members Helen and Jo seemed to be catching a fair proportion of the on backs, along with our marathon runners Moose and Sam who were definitely not claiming diplomatic immunity. Twist also took his fair share faithfully following Whipping Boy. At some point we seemed to have lost the SCBs, who were all pretty jovial and WALKING when we next met up with them near Combe Hill viewpoint. This they all recommended highly and indeed did provide fabulous views of the surrounding countryside. The steps down the precipice on other side weren’t quite so fabulous and explained the reverent respect with which Combe Hill had been mentioned earlier. The on back at the bottom
of this massive assent took to new heights the cruel vindictive sadistic
personality requirements for a hare. Just a few more stiles and a short foray through Wendover Train station and the On Inn beckoned. After crawling through the pub car park hedge (I assume we were all too exhausted at this point to take the main entrance?) we were greeted with the bad news that Jo had hurt her hand in a fall and had been rushed to hospital by Ian. Thanks Matthew for a very good run. Ed's PS.
The two injuries we sustained turned out OK - Jo eventually got home
from hospital at 1.15 AM with a clean hole in her palm and instructions
not to drink for the next 5 days. However, she says she is looking
forward to being chased by boys again next week. Lesley, who caught
her fingernail in a slammed car door, is also fine and did not have
to "scratch" from the Marathon.
Run:
745 A massive 29 turn-out greeted Sandra for her virgin-hare hash (it would have been 30 but Beverley turned up late and went away again). Sadly Sandra made an easy rookie mistake and set a really good hash – now everyone can say, when her next hash comes around, “Well, it won’t be as good as her last one!”. Much of the pre-hash rules chat was drowned out by Gill yelling at people to shut up so she could hear, but as she did more shouting than anyone else her efforts were ever-so-slightly counter-productive. Still, she can be forgiven as she is getting married next weekend as I write (or last weekend as you read – so in the future you will just have to read faster!) It turned out that there were three routes – 3, 4 and 5 miles and as Alan explained to me, “If no one does the long route, the people who do the short route will have to do the long route, but backwards. However, if the long routers get to the short route first they will go the wrong way, or vice-versa”. So with that all clear we set off down Hay Lane with Roger showing the way. For a good while all of the checks were called very quickly (I guess Roger had his trail-finding GPS on) and there was no time to catch a breath until he and half the hash set off the wrong way across a field and had to cut back to re-find the trail. A mile or so out, and lots of flour later, we came the first split and as I foolishly went the long way (I was tired and confused) I will hand you over to our short-cut writer while I catch my breath. Short
cutters memories from Lesley: 4 of us, myself and Janet plus
Rob (the Klingon) and Black Hat Morris. I’d never met either
before but they were veterans in all aspects. Rob took up FRB status
as I appointed myself to bully Janet as she announced that she ‘wanted
to get fit.’ This meant that the poor girl was barraged with
insults whenever she tried to stop. Plenty of back arrows (we were
impressed to see lots of them) ensured Janet was unable to escape.
Indeed she even got caught herself! Our route was much shorter - an
excellently marked square with some twists before heading back to
the pub. We were determined not to be caught by the pack and in fact
we made it home before half time of the champions league. Heading west we came close to Pickeridge Wood before crossing the Windsor Road and heading yet further from the pub. The last 40 yards before the road were “memorable” - a bog of runny silage had to be crossed (Thanks Sandra!). There were only 3 options. You could go through it quickly, you could go through it slowly or you could go through it and balance half way across on a small slippery log. No matter what, you had to go through it. Gill entertained us hugely by choosing the log option - and she stood there waving here arms madly in every conceivable direction before plunging into the quagmire. It didn’t actually help her dignity or her cleanliness, but she seemed to enjoy it and came out grinning broadly on the other side. The next split came at a road called Stoke Wood – which isn’t a wood and doesn’t have anything to do with stoking. The long route took us around Hedgerley Park farm and on to Gipsy Lane. Somewhere around here most of the hash went the wrong way leaving Roger and I (who had been at the back chatting) very near the front. So naturally we got caught by one of the copious back arrows. (Thanks Sandra!) Heading south towards Brockhurst Wood (which if you type into Google you get the “UK Cannabis March and Festival”) – it must be co-incidental as we were entering the GM’s home territory and several Hashers were looking dreamy. A sharp left (with me getting caught on another back arrow – Thanks again Sandra!) took us back in the direction of the pub and a mere mile and a half of fast footwork later we very near the pub. So naturally we then turned away! The next bit nearly worked. A hash “stop” complete with all sorts of goodies had been arranged by Simon’s Father and sister (welcome back Natasha) for his birthday (Rumours that he is 50 are untrue – though he has now entered his 5th decade). Unfortunately it was such a fast, well laid and well marked trail that we got there before the food did! so we had to in the pub later - and jolly good it was too. Stunningly I was the second long-cutter back to the pub. You may well say that this was because Sam was caught with a final back arrow, but I couldn’t possibly comment on that! We also celebrated Ken’s 100th run with a presentation of a “Ken Kong” T Shirt. Great Hash, great turnout. PS GPS
split times were impressive especially the last two! – Mile
one=8.56 mins; mile 2 = 11.01, 3 = 12.08; 4=11.26; 5=8.34;
last ½ mile = 3.06!!!! |
On
Back
On-on
to the archives 2004 and before
The purpose of
the spot being for SCBs to rub it out when they passed. This allowed
the hare to know what order the packs were in. An excellent device
that worked well.
The hare said it was
the direction to Grimm’s Dike – obviously he wanted us
to help keep the Brummies out. Interesting check backs – enjoyed
the under-40 but thought the over-45 was cruel – personalised
ones: GM, Gerry and Lenore – excellent. Following this the SCBs
had a choice of short and very short where they got completely confused
by what “very” meant and took the other one. Then that
happy on-inn and the beer. Note the long pack never caught us ‘cos
the GM wouldn’t let us slow down.