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| Later year |
Covid-19 pauses formal hashing until April 2021.
Run 763, 23rd September 2020.
WHERE: Sainsburys Car Park, Portishead.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: 9 minus 2 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Watered down in every sense - having driven through a deluge or two to reach On Out, Rocky appeared with briefings of a disintegrating chalk and no cheese trail with some hasty repairs to the arrows at the start, big enough to possibly confuse some people who merely go to the shops to shop. It did of course mean there was no chance of crossing over with last week's markings (we already have previous of that this season), instead conquering the bridges over the untroubled waters around Brampton Way. Coppertone and Bag Lady were in fine form at the head of the fellowship, checking out even the unlikeliest of looking On Ins through the grottos that sprang up here and there, plus avoiding a heavy dose of equine shiggy landmines along the riverbank. However, not even the most strong-willed of ring-bearers could overcome the barrier that arose after a circumnavigation of Vale Pond and its park without a zip wire. With at least the knowledge that a guide and his triumvirate of 7:15ers were lukewarm on our tail, every way to and fro alongside the local Primary School was scanned for surviving flour (the warning sign being a washed away checkpoint), but the risk of a scattered pack proved too great for the two leaders who retired in the way they knew to head in a Sainsbury direction. Only when Rocky, Walky Talky, Zappergone, Fondue and an out-of-hash-retirement Mudlark appeared did a faded orange arrow come into view and send us through another playground which should have been our first port of call anyway. Our customary skipping on the edge of Portbury Wharf (a nature reserve specially for drinking groups with a running in groups of 6 problem) followed, along with regaled stories of yesteryear's hashers; not only had Rocky recently caught up with Pork Scratchings but we also passed by Flour Power's abode looking as welcoming as can currently be. Before we could quite reach the Royal or even the RNLI station beneath, suburbia once again came calling and this time no navigational issues arose - after all, we did have the Posset Cup as a beacon. Time enough only for a declaration that the trail was "not as routine" s the hare had humbly advised. Here's to staying safe until another 6-6-6 hash...
Run 762, 16th September 2020.
WHERE: The Royal Hotel, Portishead.
HARES: Coppertone and Bag Lady.
WHO: 8 houndless hashers - was it something the government said?!
RUN REPORT: Low on On Ons but hardly missing talking points - after leaving Bag Lady to do the rounding up of one non-7pm-Bog, the long and winding stair through the woods towards the open air pool were taken in, most stoically by Down and Dirty who (fresh from completing a Mini Mendip Challenge) only took two pauses through the trees, neither for bathroom purposes. The pack had enough trouble of their own to attend to up ahead - one checkpoint had not merely been washed away through fear of being burglar shorthand, it had been given a full blooded foliage makeover to try and keep us away from the beach. Duly on the alert for misdemeanours, we then spotted a good Banksy imitation with a Great War theme, followed by an oil tanker with its plimsoll almost up in the air but thankfully still a few stones' throws from shore. More glamorous company on this beach previously for Bogs has been the Matthew, but wave goodbye we did and even split open some dinosaur themed sweets once on the promenade where petrol still cannot follow. For visiting runners this meant a loop around the Marine Lake, thus missing out on the photo-op of a natural swan trying to blend in with the pedal boats out in a bevy. By now the 7pm shift had clicked with there being no catchup theme this evening, and so they saw fit to explore the many ways across the fields beneath the Windmill, particularly with no beer stop there to boost our spirit intake ahead of the climb back up to Portishead's dizzying middle heights. Much appreciated then was the "Keep Going!" message on a rock while taking in staircase 2 of 3 - all the co-hare's handiwork. Duly out of huffs and puffs, what went up had to down down to an area disconcertingly higher on human beings but also able to leave FRBs wandering many ways in search of flour that did NOT miraculously appear from the hare there and then (I'm a character and eye witness!). Obviously it was just the none-too-gentle encouragement of the marina promenade that kept us heading where our inner compass suspected. Even with this diluted hash turnout, the Arc of Angels in Jubilee Park still did not outnumber us and hopes were even lifted of two latecomers appearing with their head torches in full up and down mode - no real despair on discovering it was the FRBs again making the most of DIY runner route opportunities. In fact, word even was confirmed by Bag Lady at On In of Rocky Horror completing his later pod in solo mode; clearly nobody had Clawed his Balls.
ON ON ON: Minus Zappagon and Bogs virgins but with Rocky desperately in need of some disciplined company (and subs), we obeyed the one way street through the bar to quickly down those down downs out on the shuffled benches, taking sufficient time to learn of a "watch this space" hash from Rocky Horror also in these Portishead parts next week. Elements - you know what to do with that leftover flour...
Run 761, 9th September 2020.
WHERE: The Stag and Hounds, Churchill.
HARES: Eager Beaver and Down & Dirty.
WHO:
RUN REPORT: Eager and Down and Dirty set us off along the back passage from the pub (which fooled the ever late Clawed Balls who checked about ½ mile in each direction from the front of the pub before finding the on out arrow). Soon we were skirting Churchill Academy school an d following a few trails that I don't think we've hashed before - well done Eager- before visiting Churchill ski slope and lanes heading back to start. Although tempted, the front runners of the later pods resisted the temptation for a quick half at the Crown at Churchill before the final on in to the Stag & Hounds.
CIRCLE & ON ON: A rather convoluted signing in of all of the pack seemed to be needed before anyone could even order a drink, an then a faulty tablet for taking the orders delayed our thirst quenching a bit more, so Rebore, Software & Dongle gave up on the wait. After thanking the hares, new Paul was renamed following his car key exploits on 2 September, and is now known as Zappagon (as in, where's my Zapper - to lock and open my car - gone).
Run 760b, September 5th 2020, afternoon.
WHERE: Stowford Manor Farm, Farleigh Hungerford.
HARES: Brigadoon and Ballsport.
WHO: 14 hashers and 0 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Not to mention a resident swine that had the balls to pose with them for an On Out picture!! Hope soon turned to reality that Rebore would slip out of his slumber and join us on the upper way to Lower Westwood, encountering not just the crossover markings but a number of dog walkers to account for our heated hounds cooling off back under the marquee. Few could imagine that the suburbia that we reached (with Rebore already having eaten up the shiggy ground) was leading anywhere but a blind back alley, but then what obstacle is that to a Bog-K&A hybrid?! Duly having slalomed through mini Sherwood and answered a few Q&A from the locals about mysterious white markings, the increasingly familiar and red-carpet-bedecked sight of the Cross Guns came into view, complete with its neighbouring aqueduct which this time we passed underneath both Out and In. The slanting garden, bar service and (sadly) toilets were all plenty busy but thankfully both ice cream and spaced out benches were going cheap, along with the disinfectant wherever you want to lay a trail with it. A gate with an arrow looked much more obvious once we approached it from the aqueduct direction, with both of Bristol's rivers (Avon and Frome) jostling for position as our number one view en route to Freshford. Eponymous pub duly popped up with freshly vacated long and fat benches - whether you just wanted to stretch those legs, ask the bar to come outside so you could drink it dry or learn pontoon from Briggy, all needs were accommodated. Upon resumption a runner/walker split immediately stepped out of the shrubs, though the title of Rambo may have ended up going to the latter. For during the huffers and puffers conquering the heights of the woodland above, a few precarious balances were negotiated alongside the Frome, with several step asides also made for either boisterous or just plain yapping mad local canines. Still no sign at all of precipitation as the woodland gobbled us all up and exploited this being a cider group with a running problem - while on the long and up the flowers may well have been watered a few times by Cinders, Dongle and Rebore, though thankfully that fit to burst piggy had stayed put! By now we felt like we put our ASS through its average whipping for a year, and so guesswork as to the right footpath off in a campsite direction soon became inspiration from a hare. Apparently livestock now have the power to prevent use of public footpaths, if one such sign in Britain is to be believed; thankfully it actually served the purpose of being our homing beacon across many a shortened crop field. Anyone wanting to do a crossover of yesterday's trail without a twilight tinge to it was quickly seduced otherwise by the promise of, well, missing out on a small piece of one's Annual Somerset Scrumpy...
ON ON ON: Plenty to celebrate other than Briggy's stoicism against both 2020 and 20 fellow hashers. Michelin stars were quickly dished out to Brigadoon, Cowslip, Ballsport, Dongle and Software (the latter overcoming a wardrobe malfunction; there had to be some Software failure after all) for quite the culinary achievement - Pulled Pork with veggie asides from Briggy's lot, ginger and courgette/pecan cakes from elsewhere along with their casserole; almost as inspired as mixing chilli with chocolate or flour with rain water. That rain water had also found pre"some walking" while the rest of us were walking therefore we were. If you thought Play Your Cards Right for Haribo courtesy of Olympians Dongle and Software was going to be the weekend's stationary highlight, then Didn't You Not Do Well! For Cinders firstly mistook the card box for a card and may thus have compromised his maths skills, but also the naming ceremony took place for Missapp and Comes Inside 'er's hound - thankfully devoid of all senses except his most powerful one. Step forward (or rather, remain inside your carrier), Pinball Wizard! Hopefully you will duck and dive among those point buffers in the trees for years to come. A watered down hashing weekend was now to make way for a no less defiant Mendip Challenge for me and Down and Dirty on the morrow (currently going ahead means all went well!) and so off on the Saturday evening it was, though not before campfire songs from Cowslip had been absorbed and eternal tribute made for coming together though not too much - 2020 ASS hash is the closest item at time of writing to a vaccine. Life goes On On!
Run 760a, September 5th 2020, morning.
WHERE: Stowford Manor Farm, Farleigh Hungerford.
HARES: Brigadoon, Ballsport and Cowslip.
WHO: 22 hashers and 2 hounds, one of whom was in Comes Inside 'er's doggy bag.
RUN REPORT: Buoyed by both a Briggy breakfast and by Rebore who had sped in from Speedway, a night under the distanced tents was soon yesterday's news when it came to completing the first loop of the Saturday figure of 8. 10:30 had metamorphosed into 11am for On Out, but still there was the choice between barbed wire hurdles or long cutting via busy tarmac to escape the campsite's ASS-end. So there set a theme as runners quickly discovered a turnback-fish hook hybrid on the outskirts of Farleigh Hungerford's castle, necessitating a storming of the battlements by all and sundry provided we wanted to reach higher plains. Most ignored the up-ramp in favour of upstairs back to tarmac, but no ambiguity could be found amongst R/W symbols in twig form thereafter. It seems every Farleigh's House is his castle, for while walkers blissfully took in a viewpoint the runners were given as polite a lecture as possible in following the not-so-canine-friendly grounds, though we seemed all to be in possession of 2 or 4 healthy limbs by the time another uphill greeted the leading walkers. No less healthy were the local populace in providing entertainment - a non-hare, while evading a non-hashing pheasant, frightened a real hare across the fields, much to a hashing hare's amusement, and none could believe a steep hairpin bend seemingly into a back garden was the right way on until they actually tried it out and spotted the arrows, plain as purple chalk. Upon yonder River Frome there appeared the hares hastily turning a beer stop into a sweet stop, along with Cowslip teetering on the edge for the best photo-ops. While wolfing down individual packs of Haribo distributed at On Out, the continuing absence of Pissticide, Bumburner and Shade Hunter gave many the chance to rest but yours truly the chance to invent something that could go wrong for them. Back up that hill it was then to rein them in and then promptly scoot off again before they could even share their sweets. We had already given the hares a 5 minute head start purely for inspection purposes by now, and so the socially responsible task of thinning out the pack came to fruition, particularly if you felt honour-bound to look after the BRBs who had spent their time discussing pheasant shoots while the runners disappeared over the piste. Once uphill and at least with the crossover from last night's trail in sight, Pissticide and co needed to do a bit more than just a limbo with the electric fences and freshly farmed shiggy on offer - namely testing their current with saliva and "insulating" blades of grass. We kept very positive after that, especially since the choice beckoned of following last night's trail to the Poplars or back to campsite refreshment beckoned - hardly the lesser of two evils...
ON ON ON: Plenty of Ploughmans on offer, albeit without the pickled onions I was meant to supplement with, but Dongle kept up the lack of a non-drinking problem with a generous helping each of Pimms. Read on if you think this could leave at least 7 of us grounded on babysitting duty for inflatable palm trees...
Run 759, September 4th 2020.
WHERE: Stowford Manor Farm, Farleigh Hungerford.
HARES: Brigadoon and 0.5 Eager Beavers.
WHO: 21 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: It was on! A weekend of stoic but still legal defiance against all adversity bought somewhat less Asses together, but not too together for comfort under the dry chill that kept us sparingly dry, if not quite the Indian Summer that previous camping trips have treated us to. Turbo charge consisted of Software and Dongle's "sausage out of cider" casserole with plentiful lentil-full sides for the herbivorous. There also followed scrumptious mince pies - definitely not a Software failure as we would all love to get into an "end of 2020" theme. With rumour spreading though of a higher octane Friday trail than any father Abraham could warm us up for, On Out made its own decision to split us into 8 runners, 7 walkers and 6 short-cutters who braved the petrol-plagued way to the pub stop. The in earnest trailers soon noticed an eerie Sailors' delight adorning the campsite behind us - either that or the wood-fired pizzas on offer had gone up even more of a treat than expected. No distraction was going to rein in the visiting Walrus and Rosie though, who ensured we weren't going to be still searching for the mostly obliterated paper markings at stupid o'clock (the pub stop may of course have been the motivation for that). Outside help greeted the pack the same way as it had the hares recceing the Monday prior, namely the farmer's wife deciphering the fading R/W markings over a stile and pointing out both footpaths' bearings. For runners this meant a scarcely believable hop over rotting stiles and into the towering triffids pretending to be a crop. Well if mother nature's hazard was not to be conquered, then a B road with fading arrows was not such a challenge; in fact the walking contingent came into view not only with daylight still merely in its death throes, but also suitably for a walking Software to declare perfect timing for the trail. Recent evidence of full on bovine occupation thankfully passed without further incident on the uphill, though Briggy, Ballsport and the campfire-enchanting Cowslip threatened to get a little left behind and so a chain of torch command was established. The local sheep probably needed more explaining about the flour markings by now than the local humans, such is our well established ASS fame in these parts, but nonetheless local wannabe-brewery The Poplars greeted us for the first time. Not thankfully with the cold shower from above, but instead a temperature check apiece which raised the tempo sufficiently for Eager and Rosie to call to order pod 1 back to the campsite, swallowed up by the same crops as the short-cutters from earlier. Darkness did of course mean headlights as much as head torches dominated the On In, and thus we felt sufficiently low octane by now to quickly hit the hay. One non-hasher's tent resembled a big top which they nonetheless assembled quicker than I had done mine; perhaps circus acts were on tomorrow's menu...
Run 758, 2nd September 2020.
WHERE: The Woodborough Inn, Winscombe.
HARES: Eager Beaver and Down & Dirty.
RUN REPORT: An enjoyable route where un-named (so far) Paul added an extra game at the start of the hash involving extracting his car key from a small hole it shouldn't have fallen into at the boot of his car. Renowned car mechanics Rocky and Cinderella armed only with a screwdriver and a pointy thing saved a long walk home for Paul before starting to catch up the previous pods. In doing so we somehow managed to bypass DT, who was ahead of us but decided that rather than following the trail through one large field he'd walk around all 4 sides of the field allowing us to go straight through without seeing him.(probably distracted by Clawed Balls and his brother overtaking us at that point having started 20 minutes after us. Everyone eventually found their way back to the pub after having needed to use our headtorches again in places for the first time for many months.
CIRCLE & ON ON: A distanced gathering at 3 tables outside the pub, with waiter service only, thanked the hares and saw a (provisional) naming of Paul for losing his car key - but see run report for 20/9/2020 for the final name.
Run 757, 26th August 2020.
WHERE: The White Lion, Nailsea.
HARES: Double D and Zider.
WHO: 21 hashers, 1 hound and 2 visitors.
RUN REPORT: No longer shall the cosy indoor and outdoor White Lion conceal its rear On Out from us - unsuitable for motorised hashers maybe, but excellent to help avoid colliding with later time slots. With Ropey and a returning Miss Fortune leading the sporadic On Ons, reminders came thin and fast that it's one blob and you're on until we remove another of society's locks - also down Memory Lane came the playground site of our previous website photo - always worthy of a mention. A return to previous photo-ops at Moorend Spout Nature Reserve also beckoned, but for those without their hashing eye in there came the possibility of following the remnants of last week's trail in a Starry direction. A good thing then that the shiggy brown carpet had been specially rolled out across the eternal greenbelt (discounting pylons) that precedes an oft-speed split back on the brink of suburbia. Here those shy R and W symbols again popped up in protest, and they seemed to encourage finding the way ahead through trial and error rather than experience from the walkers (including Down and Dirty who had again been reined in from extra check-pointing by those dogged 7:30 pursuers). With daylight now in its death throes and Double D having swept up any catchups, the BWB numbers were pleasantly (though still in a socially distant manner) swelled by Ropey and Miss Fortune, and also by many a wise young cow who opted not to follow us over the stiles and grounds of the local RFC. With rooftops quickly reappearing along with this season's headtorch debut, Miss Fortune decided that it was On In for Home Sweet Home. She may of course have done the flour maze already en route to the pub earlier, though this would have been no mean feat with all of those checkpoint lollipops that were encountered prior to passing the man-made Moorend Spout. Call it 9pm for us tailenders; those spaced out seats outside weren't going to keep themselves warm...
ON ON ON: Mostly spaced out with a wedding like seating plan, some braved the great indoors to meet the welcome addition of Deep Throat and Red Light, but quick retirement was on my cards for next week's big car park and outdoor seating, (all becoming quite compulsory) courtesy of the Woodborough at Winscombe. Good prep of course for a watered-down ASS...
Run 756, August 19th 2020.
WHERE: The Star Inn, Tickenham.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 20 houndless hashers.
RUN REPORT: Multiple precipitation-enforced settings had made this into an evening when we threatened to find ourselves up a peak without a hare, trusting only to our inner homing pigeon plus the 7:30pm runners taking their shoe and booting those checkpoints. We have grown accustomed to showing the traffic who is boss on the B3130-come-B3128 for On Out, but not so the 1 in 2 ascent to Cadbury Camp Lane with R and W split en route (I think those letters have missed us even more than Beer Stops have). Once on CC Lane and only moving at about 5cc, the timely catching up of the 7:30s was most welcome for Down and Dirty who had done a hundredth of a hash in the wrong direction, but it was also too little too late to rein in Brigadoon and Ballsport from opting for their own daring dash back down Tickenham Hill. The abyss did however kindly return Cowslip to us, albeit on a claustrophobic footpath with little room for Clawed Balls to make his customary mirror-signal-overtake. Call it divine intervention, but Briggy had been spared the most perilous of rocky, sloping footpaths leading off of Tower House Lane - worse case scenario we may even have stumbled and picked up some shiggy. All present were though intact as a mysterious L symbol appeared in the nearby woods - a transmogrified arrow? A warning that virgin hashers were out and about? Or perhaps just a scribe who did not listen to a GM hare's briefing earlier...at least it kept us on our toes for a varied On In. Those still hot on the scent of flour made the necessary skirting of the Land Yeo, however Eager Beaver, Cowslip and Down and Dirty decided to raise the stakes and conquer another segment of the B3130 without a footpath. Perhaps an ulterior motive was to match the tarmac exploits of Briggy and Ballsport who had by now reported in safely from HQ. Get those head torches charging...
ON ON ON: The duct tape arrows around the Star were disintegrating much faster than those made of flour, but remained sufficiently stoic to keep us in a subdivided huddle out on the patio. The White Lion roars louder than the more bogged Ring O'Bells and Grove Sports Centre in Nailsea next week - make sure not to race down that Engine Lane.
Run 755, 12th August 2020.
WHERE: Bay Road, Clevedon.
HARES: Kerb Crawler and Walky Talky.
WHO: Approximately 20 spit-roasted hashers plus 1 hot dog.br>
RUN REPORT: Here we are having survived all that nature and the hares could throw at us for one evening; those believing the BBC may have stayed away in anticipation of the heatwave being interrupted by 8pm thunderstorms, but the inclement weather was nonetheless delayed because it had no pub to ask for directions to. So On Out on the up it was then in search of the sheltering foliage around Walton Castle, keeping calm and checking for golf balls all the way. A familiar theme of chalk arrows for On In appeared and made the 7pm crew wary of being overtaken on another uphill later, but who could not be distracted by the flawless fairways that preceded the bliss of St Paul's Church emerging at In-Gordano-number-1, when travelling in a Clevedon-Portishead direction (we have conquered them all in our time)? Even when it came time to strain those calves, there were some docile equines (albeit lacking foals) to give us silent encouragement up the mountain pass guarded by no trolls (not the type with keyboards...). No less a spur was the customary catchup of Clawed Balls to spread first the controversy of naming this "Heart Attack Hill" (naturally we all said HA to that), then the news that Double D was in lukewarm pursuit, but surely the idle gossip that Irish Spew could be bringing up the very rear?! No, it had to be mistaken identity, but just in case there was a return of the runner/walker split through the woods to serve dual purpose - separating rear Rambo from wimp, and enabling Down and Dirty to briefly rein in some of the runners after that hike. Hike 2 of 3, that is - a possibly unbogged footpath took us back up a little more hill (limboing one or two felled trunks on the way) and back onto the golf course to thankfully not get caught in an On Out/In time warp. Mercy my lack of trust - once on the downhill to our brief BYO picnic there appeared a full on Irish, complete with Scrumpy and a post lockdown 'do - definitely well worth being the BWBs for.
ON ON ON / IN IN IN!: Out on the green and with the intention of overlooking the channel, it looked instead like the channel was overlooking us in the form of the looming 50 shades of black behind us, and so once nature flashed its own head torch we quickly said hello and get a life to the appearing Briggy and Ballsport and quickly retreated to our vehicles to witness the shiggification of Clevedon from therein. Perhaps less extremes in terms of weather and gradient will greet us at the Star at Tickenham next week, especially with a GM DT to follow.
Run 754, 5th August 2020.
WHERE: The Plough, Wrington.
HARE: Bumbag.
WHO: Approx 18 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: On the eve of the heatwave to Save Our Summer we found the heavens to merely be merciful on a steep climb to Wrington Hill - for the 7pm fraternity a HV or High Viewpoint came into view shortly before the pursuing Duracell, but immediately uphill thereafter came the chance for the unwary to complete a Hypotenuse rather than the intended Opposite and Adjacent, had a chain of On Ons not been established and the road snuck stealthily along while the 7:30 platoon continued to play catchup rather than race. By this point the number of non-hashers was rising dramatically, though thankfully none of them yet were ruminant or even quadrupedal as this would be saved for when everyone was feeling downhill. Enough of a Promethean hill-climb had passed though for Down and Dirty to call it an hour and tumble down Old Hill to the pub, just in time to avoid the upping of the ante. With a number of ring-rusty Easyjets coming into view overhead, the FRBs came perilously close to a 2 metre handshake when they announced that they had run out of trail, exacerbated by the reminder of the need for clearer hare marking of checkpoints ("burst that bubble" seems a good slogan to me). Nonetheless, we had anticipated a Noah's Ark hash which duly provided 2 peacocks, 2 hounds on leads courtesy of Double D and Zider's pacey pursuit, but unlimited sheep and hedged off cows. As a reminder of the work this heatwave will have to do, semi-darkness had already began to envelop the On In along School Lane, and well prior to 9pm, to shiggy boot...
ON ON ON: Rumour reached me prior to departure of eating out to help out, and so chips in their semi-abundance may well have adorned the Plough patio along with a non-dog-tired Down and Dirty and a Rocky Horror taking cash payments again. BYOB&G at Ladye Bay next week - the weather may just do the cooking for you!
Run 753, 29th July 2020.
WHERE: The Ship Inn, Portishead.
HARES: Coppertone and Bag Lady.
WHO: 20 houndless hashers.
RUN REPORT: Bogs have set sail from here many times, though never in such choppy waters and lands alike. Good then for both a non-hashing Houdini (NHS clap held in reserve) and a sailor's delight to adorn the On Out of the 7pm contingent in the direction of activity centre boasting as much quad biking and paintballing as you would currently expect; it made for an opportunity to dive briefly into the warzone and back out onto the beaten track with only our sense of direction taking a battering the process - good thing then as there was little time to take in the view of the Black Rock Quarry with the next platoon in hot pursuit. Bag Lady aptly showed cunning in plonking both a returning T3 (just keep 2 metres apart when doing each blob!) and a downhill shortcut next to the ruins above Valley Road - it kept us all as antisocial as required, as catch-ups were still anticipated from Double D and Zider, plus Clawed Balls and Waynetta, the latter having already accosted FWBs for directions to the Ship long since set sail. They chose to catch up in earnest after many a true and one false blob in Weston Big Wood, seemingly growing in stature every time we use it but always retaining the necessary charm to make us exit via the same back door onto the Downs. The low and high roads were taken to Merlin Park to continue our attempts to revive the zip wire motif (by now all big kids were back ready to drink part of the bar dry except myself), and with Double D and Zider completing their lapping of the FWBs come BWBs (as if we would race though...), land ahoy struck at seven bells, or 8 and three quarters for those that speak landlubber.
ON ON ON: Happy return to hashing for Waynetta and Shiggy out in the car park (particularly as our boots had bought little of the stuff back with them), along with Rocky announcing we will be able to pay our way again with 0% APR next week at the Plough in Wrington. Channel or no channel, there will still be views stretching as far as the flour can see...
Run 751, July 15th 2020.
WHERE: The King's Arms, Easton-in-Gordano.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: Approx 18 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Skipping one cardinal hash number in order to celebrate 750 Bogs bashes at a later date with hugs and grub, we kept up our new and accomplished norm with groups of 7 of one, half a dozen of the other, plus 3 who ended up doing their own "NO NO" trail. Got your attention - Rocky explained that it was On Out with chalk arrows and On In with flour arrows in the same location, but it seemed not even an eventual chalk marking aimed specifically at an absent Rewind could stop us from exploring several more back alleys than we needed to en route to the crop field, itself en route to Gordano Services. Rocky had kindly supplemented everyone with individual bags of sweets, so no need to pop in for a £10 Starbucks, especially as we nipped back into the woodland just as its logo came into view. By now those perpetrators of 7pm misdemeanours had begun to feel the 7:15 gang hot on their tail, so thankfully the route spread out into wider fields either side of the Portbury church bells. Socially distancing ourselves from both a zip wire and the free-range-though-not-quite-hashing poultry was a doddle, but fate threw an altogether much more social obstacle our way as the M5 was given the up and over. Not only did a throng of cyclists narrowly avoid engulfing a tail-ending Down and Dirty, but among their number was the welcome sight of Strap On! Catching up sufficiently to learn of the greyhounds chasing the nearby Black Horse on Monday, we kept to the cycle tracks around the docks, in time to be caught up by Rocky and Clawed Balls possibly in pursuit of a new catchup-oriented handle. No greater revelation though than to encounter Deep Throat, Bumburner and Bumbag doing the trail in reverse, and with quite a trek thus to go. Perhaps encouraged by having some other down downs to toast, the pack kept up a disciplined rather than furious pace back over the motorway, avoiding the temptation of the On Out and the Rewind message and instead beating more church bells to the finishing post - you set 'em up, you knock 'em back.
CIRCLE: Double D and Zider added 8 legs to the finishing line while Eager Beaver was told to get a life for marking 10 years of felling hash trees and building hash dams at the Full Quart next week; just as the circle had dispersed without the already dispersed Briggy and Ballsport the NO NO trailers appeared as well to drink the bar half dry. Here's to keeping up that much of a blistering pursuit...
Run 750 is currently in storage.
Run 749, July 8th 2020.
WHERE: Ashton Hill Plantation, Failand.
HARES: Kerb Crawler and Cinderella.
WHO: 18 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Stay Alert hashers - check. Stay Safe - well, we always discuss this at the AGPU. Check, Change, but most importantly - Go! Those wannabe redwoods at Big Tree Grove had swallowed up the surrounding woods due to a 4 month shortage of flouring and traipsing, so off in our groups of 6 we warily trod. Those expecting to be weaned back into a Hash Wednesday routine with a Shrove Pancake flat trail were soon lost in those very thoughts, with the back-shiggy route to the sequoias/ents setting the off the beaten track theme. Foolishly feeling above sure footing thereafter, reality tasted like a slalom back through the roots, still fast enough not to be caught by the next batch of 6 but treacherous enough to sprawl Down and Dirty in the dirt, thankfully without rolling down. No further encouragement thus was needed once the primary backmarkers Coppertone and Bag Lady had been located (Briggy, Ballsport and Rebore had already came, saw and set out to conquer), so back to the car park via the shortest and most concrete route it was then. Shortcuts after all could be forgiven, but turning a group of 6 into one of 8 would probably have left one felling, well...socially distant. As it all panned out the groups and twosomes arrived back for fanned out down downs and messages of support pretty much as planned - that ought to keep us calm as darker evenings lie ahead, hopefully that's it.
CIRCLE: As big a hand as could be to this trail's essential workers Cinders and Kerb Crawler, plus a DIY distanced down down to those who scaled Naish Hill with Bumburner the unsafe way in season past. Welcome also to Bogs virgin Paul and a timely reminder not to sit, slip or arrive late for hash in the respective cases of Down and Dirty, Ropey and Bumbag. Next week we plan to keep our restrained distance from the Kings Arms at Easton in Gordano; reappearing flour alone will be encouraging enough for the locals!
Run 748, March 18th 2020.
WHERE: The Black Horse, Clapton-in-Gordano.
HARE: Bumburner.
WHO: 14-3+1 hashers, 0 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Keep calm and carry on rather than checking them balls! In the spirit of defiance that sent many of us towering above all else, a potential goodbye to pubs, clubs and shared automobiles swept in and befell those who had braved social interaction while they still had hashing cause to do so. Most eye-catching at On Out was a hazmat-bedecked Rebore who nonetheless dished out the occasional pat on the back while he could, for events would dictate whatever they wished. After a prompt plod up through the shiggy to Clapton Lane, foretold runner route 1 of 1 appeared and sent 5 super-stoic souls out over some sheepish, shiggy fields in search of flour not there for stockpiling, paying off sufficiently to reach a checkpoint-turned-lollipop courtesy of walkers out in as much force as could be mustered. Mustering was quite the key from thereon, with Naish Hill and its diluted but still dangerous traffic combining with the gradient to make Brigadoon, Ballsport and the Hamzat Man confuse it with Ben Nevis and opt for a return to base camp. Upon reaching the possible summit (albeit without any visitors centre or café present; we were even foregoing sweet stop for an evening) the hare diplomatically announced that proper flour ran parallel to the road and would have got us here in 14 rather than 11 pieces. Duly noted, we nonetheless drifted briefly apart again in trying to establish contact with the Gordano Round of years gone by - a large triangle succeeded in warning us of an excavation for the unwary hasher, perhaps too much as Deep Throat nonetheless took a tumble onto thankfully boggy grass rather than a sleeping policeman. Regrouping a few feet apart was quite socially acceptable after negotiating the invisible, quarantined cattle of Naish Farm, particularly with views of a background Portishead and a foreground unexploded bomb to take in. By now myth had turned to rumour in anticipation of legend when it came to Clawed Balls playing catchup of the decade (perhaps even a rival of Dungeon Dragons' catchup of the century on run 284) - it was duly accomplished before reaching an ON IN amongst plenty of shelter from the heavens which had been left slightly ajar, agreeing en masse to sound the rallying short cut cry down Iwood Lane and its echo beneath the M5. Given that we had already hoki-cokied on the spot for warmup earlier, avoiding a circle and simply making a mental note of those misdemeanours seemed the right diagnosis.
ON ON ON: Note even that though was to stop us drying a small part of the drinking bar along with Brigadoon inviting others to his ASS in front of a cosy fire - pub or no pub, hash or no hash, there will still be in existence a trail circumnavigating the Market Inn at Yatton next week. Please also raise a glass to a scribe's hope that the references made in this writeup will make less and less sense as time goes on...
Run 747, March 11th 2020.
WHERE: The Old Inn, Congresbury.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 13, nay - 18 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: A hash that grew in stature (maturity is open to debate) as it shiggied on against the elemental spirits opposing it. As the runners completed a loop/ritual around St Andrews C of E they glanced over their shoulder to see the second set of latecomers Double D and Zider adopting their most common pace close behind (technically the honour of pioneering latecomer went equally to Briggy and Ballsport who pulled up just after our hoki-coki; they joined the walkers in convoy though). With a none-too-fruity Strawberry Line laced with a fish hook for 2 and parallel quagmires to negotiate on the way back to the walkers, it fell voluntarily upon a scribe to keep the tow line from becoming too slack (another runners loop helped make sure lactic acid had no say in the matter) - only now did Clawed Balls also enter the fray to complete the troop in time for a typically healthy GM Sweet Stop of sweet stops and that good old crystalline ginger - perhaps now as synonymous with Deep Throat as pavlova is with Fondue. It's too late now to tell her I didn't scribe that, so on along suburbia we hushed, perhaps searching for some other piece of news with which to bury that revelation. Step forward Down and Dirty spearheading a fish hook for 4! So what if the runners were distant and the walk back completed in 30 seconds, there's a first for every hash misdemeanour. This also applies to the rain falling on the trail unannounced, to say nothing of a bunch of frogs spawning together in anticipation of us crossing their path to another regroup above the rip-roaring Congresbury Weir. Perhaps keen to avoid making another of his big splashes in the same source 9 years on, Briggy had foregone this regroup and simply - shocky rocky horror - followed the flour back past the Plough Inn. Time will only tell if he had instigated an additional beer stop there, for the real one emerged soon after on the Causeway.
CIRCLE: With 8:30 only just bypassed we nonetheless all felt this trail was far too long and far too full of people arriving on time - plaudits though went to Rocky Horror for lending a running hare hand and to Down and Dirty form her hold the presses actions throughout.
ON ON ON: Quantity and quality prevailed with the sandwiches white and brown, chips were chunky and quickly chomped, no doubt emulating the chomping at the bit from the Black Horse next week. On On but let's keep safe in here and out there.....
Run 744, February 19th 2020.
WHERE: Nailsea Micropub - very much Nailsea in nature!
HARE: Double D.
WHO: 17 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Arriving 15 seconds late was thankfully not an omen for a scribe missing out on merriment, nourishment and later the adding of a serendipitous venue to our limitless repertoire. Not after departing the High Street we came not to notice much flour, or failing that there were many micro-dots of the stuff to keep up with the theme of the pub. None were unaccounted for though as checkpoints On Backs abounded prior to reaching a runner/walker split symbolised by a playground which adorned our website in decade gone by - still sadly missing a zip wire for the big kid contingent. Lovers in arms (not sex on hash yet, though, thankfully) Ropey and Miss Fortune gallantly spent time apart as R and W respectively - after all, there was a regroup on standby and ample opportunity to lose one's sense of direction. Local teens though had (shock, horror) got the idea that we were all out looking for a lost dog, or even racing on the hash! Perhaps motivated to slow down or even take stock, fish hooks started to either fall out of the sky or demonstrate much more resoluteness than the rest of those lurking markings. Come it by design or fate, we ended up on the road to Nowhere....Wood, where a sweet stop stared us down with lashings of haribo, liquorice allsorts (lump it or loathe it, Cinders) and wine gums (now that's what I call a micro drink!); a much needed propulsion for a runners route and the shiggy galore that preceded our return to the near-High Street with the distant church bells already ready to strike nine. As if that would get in the way of Double D's driveway beer stop:
CIRCLE: Certainly no micro-sized alcohol or soft drinks to down down any misdemeanours to; I guess that ties in with only Double D making the circle for those micro-dots, circular headwear and often transmogrifying arrows. 'Twas but an archery range's distance from the micropub, after all, though we all deemed it worth buying our own down downs for evading the temptation of the neighbouring Golden Horse (the Chinese restaurant, that is, not the 24 carat means of royal transport....)
ON ON ON: Once packed in like sardines along with the swimming contingent of Eager Beaver Senior, a baguette-bedecked Ploughmans or 20 came and went along with Briggy being quick to get his ASS inn gear, even if he had the Miss Fortune of being told the forms were for the wrong date as informed by said walker. Let's hope we turn up to the correct George Inn next time around!
Run 747, March 11th 2020
WHERE: The Old Inn, Congresbury
HARE: Deep Throat
WHO: 13, nay - 18 hashers and 1 hound
RUN REPORT: A hash that grew in stature (maturity is open to debate) as it shiggied on against the elemental spirits opposing it. As the runners completed a loop/ritual around St Andrews C of E they glanced over their shoulder to see the second set of latecomers Double D and Zider adopting their most common pace close behind (technically the honour of pioneering latecomer went equally to Briggy and Ballsport who pulled up just after our hoki-coki; they joined the walkers in convoy though). With a none-too-fruity Strawberry Line laced with a fish hook for 2 and parallel quagmires to negotiate on the way back to the walkers, it fell voluntarily upon a scribe to keep the tow line from becoming too slack (another runners loop helped make sure lactic acid had no say in the matter) - only now did Clawed Balls also enter the fray to complete the troop in time for a typically healthy GM Sweet Stop of sweet stops and that good old crystalline ginger - perhaps now as synonymous with Deep Throat as pavlova is with Fondue. It's too late now to tell her I didn't scribe that, so on along suburbia we hushed, perhaps searching for some other piece of news with which to bury that revelation. Step forward Down and Dirty spearheading a fish hook for 4! So what if the runners were distant and the walk back completed in 30 seconds, there's a first for every hash misdemeanour. This also applies to the rain falling on the trail unannounced, to say nothing of a bunch of frogs spawning together in anticipation of us crossing their path to another regroup above the rip-roaring Congresbury Weir. Perhaps keen to avoid making another of his big splashes in the same source 9 years on, Briggy had foregone this regroup and simply - shocky rocky horror - followed the flour back past the Plough Inn. Time will only tell if he had instigated an additional beer stop there, for the real one emerged soon after on the Causeway
CIRCLE: With 8:30 only just bypassed we nonetheless all felt this trail was far too long and far too full of people arriving on time - plaudits though went to Rocky Horror for lending a running hare hand and to Down and Dirty form her hold the presses actions throughout.
ON ON ON: Quantity and quality prevailed with the sandwiches white and brown, chips were chunky and quickly chomped, no doubt emulating the chomping at the bit from the Black Horse next week. On On but let's keep safe in here and out there.....
Run 743, February 12th 2020.
WHERE: The Anchor, Ham Green, Pill.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: 11 houndless hashers and 1 visitor.
RUN REPORT: With none but the returning Software and Dongle present at 7:20, this really threatened to turn into the wrath of storm Ciara prior to being slingshot by Dennis the Menace next week. In particular the appearance of the Cinders brigade at 7:23 kept up the zany theme, nonetheless a steady trickle then kept the numbers respectable (including Bumburner who knew not of the appendant car park), boosted further by Double D and Zider whose catchup theme is in danger of affecting their hash handles. Many a beer stop has emerged on the enormous checkpoint that adorns Watchouse Hill, and On Out felt no less out of place either - particularly with an early fish hook to huddle us and a different lot of runners out - we would have recruited them but for their lack of a drinking problem. Instead we huffed and puffed yonder via duct to a non-abandoned runner/walker split leading to a popular site for sweet stops, though laced this time round with a sprinkling of deception. For while enjoying the views of the harbour to the tune of humbugs, sour pastilles and wine gums, we briefly led a drum roll for the approaching head torches of Double D and Zider destined to help us reach double figures. A double dose of dismay, then, when we realised that they were non Bogs still out to don head torches and not tempted by strangers offering sweets, either. Well, on on must be on on, even if the low lying runner trail was cast off shore in favour of another that shortly followed inland. Certainly inland enough to locate the beacon of St George Parish C of E (that's Church of Easton-in-Gordano - a very strong community spirit!). Here's the church, there's the steeple, open the sweets again, and there's the local populace commenting that we looked like miners/minors - we didn't stop to clarify as the lure of a potential early beer stop at the King's Arms was calling! Perhaps, though, it would have done better when we need a long, cool 'un in the Summer rather than an average length, dry trail. With Double D and Zider still somewhere else to be seen on reaching on A369 crossing, the hare stepped right in the shiggy to inform us of an incoming gravel track quick to transmogrify into shiggy en masse, hence we would jettison another runners' route if we wanted to arrive back in 11 pieces. It worked a treat as the final 2 pieces joined up to help finish off the sweets. A lovely touch also on the Happerton Lane approach to the beer stop - passing by Woodbine House to show that a departed hound can still nonetheless adorn a trail in spirit.
CIRCLE: We drank to those four legs once again alongside the A369, with Double D and Zider's diplomacy decreeing that everyone else deserved a down down for being too fast to catch up. Previous death-dicing dashes along Haberfield Hill have inspired sufficiently for installation of a pavement with a view, though even this did not stop the occasional horn-blare (no doubt of support and encouragement) prior to making the crossing in earnest to the Pill Road On In. The only potential remaining hazard would be for Deep Throat to turn right against instinct and trip over THAT sleeping policeman again...
ON ON ON: 9pm and not a bump to show for it, quality and probably enough quantity prevailed as enough Feta, pulled pork and chicken wraps appeared at the oval table for 1.5 apiece. This included a dapper Duracell who had joined in specially for a committee meeting about upcoming run 750; here's the first revelation - it won't start at Cinders' arrival time...
Run 742, February 5th 2020.
WHERE: The Old Inn, Clevedon.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 1 hound, 12 hashers plus 50% interest.
RUN REPORT: Numbers were the subject of "up" at a Bogs location normally famed for its Dial Hill / Court Woods inclines either side of the valley, not that our GM was offering up a hazard-free trail of course. For after an On Out that took in the Dark Alley of Daniel Close, there came upon a hash n' dash across Northern Way spliced with a successful negotiation of the Land Yeo 's unfenced section - a foot wrong there and one may have been given a current's guided tour of Bogs territory. Whether you ran through may a blind bracken or walked through many a suburban street to regroup was a moot point; I think all present would be inspired to fight to "save our fields" as displayed by the banner with a few Bogs signatures hastily added. That was a danger to wildlife, next came a few more dangers to Bogs as the other type of hash was encountered in one of several subterraneous ways under the road (well, we always want to get teens into hashing) - thankfully though we were greeted with only common courtesy and perhaps a little encouragement for Double D, Zider and Bumburner who caught us up in time for a typically healthy GM sweet stop - haribo was but a side dish in the presence of crystalline ginger, banana chips and chocolate coated peanuts. As more and more fish hooks and runner loops around Southern Ring Path came into play forthwith, the concept of squeezing in a visit to the hare's home warren seemed less likely, particularly as runners were presented with full scale circumnavigations of firstly our former Kwik Save, and then a save of the quick ways around the rugby field for another season (that shiggy wasn't going to ship itself to the Old Inn garden, after all). High speeders could not though suppress their respective delight and surprise at locating the beer stop at DT's ahead of walkers, and of course that there was indeed time for one!
CIRCLE: Never one to encourage anything less than 5 a day, DT brought out apple and pear chunks to encourage the still lagging walkers over the near-finishing line, to the divisive revelation that runners and walkers had been doing fish hooks in their own separate grooves, hence the tardiness. Well, pointing this out earned Double D and Zider little more than a down down apiece for being "goody two shoes", though we did all thankfully disprove Miss Fortune's estimate of it being miles and miles back downhill to the pub. A summer-themed touchdown of 9:20, to go with a spring turnout preceding another Atlantic storming of the Bogs fort...
ON ON ON: Cowslip had braved the back room alone before our return, while Dressing Down and Up All Night had braved the two minute walk to help us with a generous mix of chips and brown and white sarnies (the hors d'oeuvre had been another game of sardines in the car park), of which only ham passed my picky palate. I hope we thus pass Ham Green at Pill's The Anchor next week with an equally steady increase in numbers.
Run 741, 29th January 2020.
WHERE: The Rising Sun, Backwell.
HARES: Houdini and Inside Out.
WHO: 8 hashers.
RUN REPORT (by Cinders): there were just 3 runners, who had to check out the very spaced out flour on the runners loop around Backwell (something to do with laying flour blobs every 50 paces, but then having a different definition of a pace), before we all met up again en route to Nailsea. As we caught up, speed walkers Double D and Zider I were first to check out one of the first of a series a seriously shiggy false routes on the next stage of the hash. A few slippery fields, a sweety stop and one more field and then we were on the roads again heading back towards Backwell, winding through a number of back streets until we arrived at the beer and snack stop, Then it was a short trek back to the pub, where we were met by Down & Dirty, Eager Beaver, Ropey and Miss Fortune..
CIRCLE & ON ON: As well as the hares, Rebore was in the circle for mistakenly describing Double D and Zider I as a couple of young girls, and Double D, always one to accept a compliment, responded that he should have gone to Specsavers!
Run 740, 22nd January 2020.
WHERE: The Miner's Rest, Long Ashton.
HARES: Eager Beaver and Down & Dirty.
WHO: 8 hashers.
RUN REPORT: After a downhill start we all knew that it would be uphill again at some stage - but when? An adventurous 5 miler (for runners) took us to the edge of Flax Bourton, with the Eager hare keeping the running pack going at a cracking pace across some of the very wet fields, before we met up with the walkers and finally started the inevitable climb. Although we were now headed directly towards the pub (and could see its lights in the far distance), instead of staying at top of the rise, we descended down to the village hall for a beer stop before the final climb back to the Miners.
CIRCLE and ON ON: As well as celebrating the hares, Inside Out admitted to thinking that the runners must have got lost at one stage - something to do with not noticing the Runners/Walkers split - just as well she hadn't turned left at that stage! Uppy and Downy met us at the pub, with sad news that Woodbine wouldn't be having a drag (along) at any more hashes as he had gone to join the doggy hash group in the sky. Gigantic plates of sandwiches and chips were then brought out to more than replace the calories expended on those hilly miles.
Run 739, January 15th 2020.
WHERE: Wherever you wanted in Nailsea!
HARE: Rewind.
HOSTESS: Fast Forward.
WHO: 11 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: A cold snap of the fingers kept us huddled together at an On Out forewarning of themes to spot, viewpoints that demanded to be assembled at and a double dose of D cataching us up with hound number 2 (always a pleasure for Mudlark to find a pedigree chum). With not but checkpoints and the alphabet to guide us (head torches deserve a mention too, I guess), we hastened to our first view, the sandwich filling of Tithe Barn and Holy Trinity Church for once not chiming to the tune of our "On In" chant; that would normally be reserved for heading to the rafters of the Ring O'Bells which came hither, naturally with the ulterior motive of confusing Rocky Horror who wanted to Ring O Bells in earnest rather than make a suburban semi sprint in the direction of the Moorend Spout, a pub Bogged merely once but with a rich dose of Rewind trivia attached (most notably that "the good old Tories have closed up the public toilet opposite", but then the pub is where you should spend the most pennies). On we roared to the White Lion, again somehow posing for a view rather than a down down, but not even those who heard the distant bars bleeding dry could resist the allure of Nailsea's Garden of Rest, boasting deep water and a circuit braved only by Rewind and Deep Throat in the dark - other attendees (swelled by Double D by now) were busy decoding the theme of checkpoints having 2 quick blobs and then nothing, spliced with local hero Adge Cutler's eternal resting place opposite (rest ye were, weary hasher). Debate threatened to rage as to whether we would make all of Nailsea's pub stops, though consensus was quickly reached that the Sawyers Arms counts as part of Wraxall and thus the next viewpoint was merely that of Bumburner looking for flour the wrong side of a subway (not the sandwich chain sort, either). Keeping with our Adge, the site of his Live at The Royal Oak album recording soon beckoned, quite rightly still boasting about it with a statue snapped up by stand-in Hash Flash Walky Talky. Remembering though that a local hero would not want to soak up all the attention of a Bogs trail, though, we duly returned to non-stardom with a mostly demolished pack of chocolate peanuts and the comedy gold of Cinderella checking out a back alley, only to come across a staircase prop destined to be used in an upcoming production of...Cinderella! I was thus a little worried that some beavers may come out and destroy the trail, though the hare certainly did not want to play the tape back and avoid the offerings of the High Street - first there was a pub stop finally for half the pack alongside the Golden Horse (sadly I missed the name and Google Earth still thinks it is an opticians; they haven't been keeping up with their running problem), then we stopped to admire the stretch of the Coates House-was-Queen's Head and the Glassmaker in turn but not time for those bar driers to catch up. A hashing horticulturist's dream greeted those reaching the finishing stretch prior to 9 in the shape of a neighbouring Bonsai garden, easy enough to hash one's way through, not so easy if you're looking to resist Rewind trivia. Seasoning greetings!
CIRCLE: I had to call disorder to proceedings as skittles once again sounded the rallying cry, never without announcing the next hare raising experience though, viz:
ON ON ON: We had been treated to a bit of everything when it came to viewpoints and trail markings, and the no-expense-spared theme continued at Casa de Fast Forward with enough baked potatoes for Summer numbers, duly "garnished" with the finest that Heinz and Cheddar had to offer, not forgetting the mulled cider and cake platter to further tantalise the palate. Oh, and it was all on the house! Not so sure the Miner's Rest can be sustained with such generosity next week, even if they probably know our trails themselves by now...
Run 738, January 8th 2020.
WHERE: The Bird in Hand, Long Ashton.
HARES: Cinderella & Kerb Crawler.
WHO: 15 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: What always threatened to be a damp squib began with divine intervention as I managed to seize a parking space right outside the pub, courtesy of a non-hasher's timely departure. Inspiration continued sufficiently to keep the downpour at a moderate level, a good thing seeing as we were destined to follow up runner and walker loops around Long Ashton with a stroll into the Wild Wood. Not only was there no Wind in our Willows, but also shiggy turned up en masse complete with a runners' lasso for those prepared to put their dignity in the hands of deteriorating flour. The festivities could continue once titular Way had been located, seemingly with a sweet stop in sight as well but nonetheless still with a couple of false On Ons to negotiate before we could finish the ascent forthwith. Tanked up on jelly babies, wine gums and maybe even some adrenalin, there beckoned the real reason as to why Cinders had displayed some concern about Down and Dirty's ever enthusiastic (and normally quite able) participation. Shiggy any more there were not, uphill without fish hooks there most certainly was! Perhaps trusting more to Long Ashton knowledge than a need for thorough back marking, Highlands Road certainly lived up to its name in making she-who-got-her-handle-before-she-hashed retire back down Providence Lane without looking for a beer stop which may not have been there anyway. 8:50 was our time of arrival, perhaps leaving enough time for Cinders (the real timekeeper) to have drunk a fraction of the bar dry.
CIRCLE: Too dry was this trail, presumably in terms of British wit, too much vandalism of trees by Inchworm (who better to have to duck beneath them?!) and too many instances already of Rocky being more attached to his wheels than keeping up with runners. You can never have too many Fondue birthdays though for those precious pecan pies though!
ON ON ON:ith its billowing fire and alcove tailor made for bedraggled Bogs out to demolish 4 gherkin and pickle-inspired Ploughmans, this not-so-frequented pub was certainly worth the two hashes in the bush that its name suggested. We need a little limbering up for a Rewind trail up a creek with only a few paddles next week, after all...
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