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How was it for you? Pt.2
This page only shows the last few runs - if you want to see more of our past runs then please visit the Archive page.
| Date
- 13th May 2003 From - The Red Lion, Little Missenden Hounds - 13 Hare - Roger Crawshaw Scribe - Barney The turn out this week of 13 hounds, 2 walkers and a hare was remarkable in view of the advertised venue being The Red Lion, “LITTLE KINGSHILL”. Our commiserations to any hashers still roaming Little Kingshill for the Red Lion, there isn’t one! This, of course, was a devious plan to discover which hashers, if any had crystal balls! Set by “I know where I am at all times” GPS Roger gave no clue as to the trail and in true HWH3 determination the pack wandered the village lanes for an elusive trail. Many seemed more interested in taking bets upon the weather as dark and cruel clouds rolled in overhead. As a martyr in his own right Rob Martyr checked for the on out towards Holmer Green, well out of sight at the time the trail was found in the opposite direction, he was not seen again for at least three checks later. The pack headed off towards the by-pass and all managed to dodge the traffic to set on up Chalk Lane, No points there Roger! Chalk Lane is a steep hill which seems to go on and on, especially from a cold start, Roger was obviously going for maximum points for multiple cardiac arrest! Some hashers did not fully recover from this hill start until returning to the comfort of the pub. Having reached the summit we immerge in the village of Hyde Heath and checked out the trails across the common. It is soon called from across the green and the trail is followed liberally marked in flour through the woods carpeted with a scattering of Bluebells. Many of the trails were long between checks and Palmerstons ensured the FRB’s were kept with the pack by regularly sending them back to the last hasher. Roger had invented a new variation by marking M or L to send either all the Harriets or all the Harriers to the back. At one point using two closely set Palmerstons he had the whole pack, except Comfort, running up and down a short length of trail in an ever-decreasing circle. More points to Roger.Upon reaching a main road, I think the Gt. Missenden to Chesham, Roger declares there’s a choice of a standard hash or an extended hash and this split the pack 50/50 with yours truly opting for a wimps standard run. This sent us off along Browns Road to reach another road that we crossed onto footpaths skirting woods across rolling Chiltern Hills. Clearly we were heading back towards Little Missenden as the nearby railway could be seen in the distance.As we entered a wood on an up hill section Roger sped by the front runners to lay another sneaky Palmerson insitu just before the next check! A clear indiscriminate abuse of the rules that deserves a down-down. Mega points deducted Roger. Emerging from the woods we cross the railway footbridge and it’s all downhill on in to the village pub. To our surprise it is all celebrations as we discover walker Jilly waiting with Champagne to share her 50th birthday. This was most welcome and effortlessly dispatched ahead of more celebrations and pressies in the pub. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JILLY” Eventually the hare suggesting that for the faint hearted a short cut was on offer to which our sacificed Audrey, Tracey and yours truly could not resist and hence arrived at the refreshment stop well ahead of the main pack |
| 6th
May Pub Lions at Bledlow Hare Barney, No. of Hashers Unknown, 2 walkers. Scribe Robert Martyr On
a fine clear evening it was nice to see a good number of hashers turned The
trail led the pack out to Wainhill and then past some lively horses
in a Footnotes, Well
done to Ade and Sam who ran the Silverstone 10k and still managed
to |
| Date
- 1st April We should have
known better but we fell into the trap anyway. But such is the power
of hindsight. Here's
to Gerry he's true blue Gerry
does the hash website Gerry's
a gentleman Commiserations
to Phil for having his car broken into and his clothes and
|
Roger's Birthday Hash or The First Hash of Spring The pack gathered on yet another beautiful clear night for the first hash of spring. Hashers came out of the woodwork, confident that they would not get rained on or buffeted by strong winds. It was brave of Roger to set this week, following right after the flawless trail of the previous week, but somebody had to do it. Since he had taken the week off work, Roger was able to put maximum effort into the set. Once again, we were on flour, not TP, and he was not so lazy as to say, "One mark and you're on." He said at the beginning that it would be a flat run, but Gerry (long-lost hasher who it seems is subconsciously trying to kill himself, but has thankfully not succeeded yet) disagreed, saying it was not a flat run at all. The previous week we heard Roger postulate that the earth is flat. That theory is obviously wrong, as evidenced by his own run, which was not flat enough for Gerry, and by the drive home, which was definitely not flat. The trail managed to keep us off road most of the time, and to disorient some of us. But as always, there were those whose pub-homing devices remained infallible. We
ran through the usual woods and fields. No encounters with scary animals. After the regroup there was a long/short split. Phil, who knows in his heart he does not belong in the shortcutter's group, received justice, when he had to wait for Ade to get to the cars so he could get his own keys. On
into the pub where beer costs less per ml. than water, and where some
of the hashers unabashedly ogled the mini-skirted woman with the amazing
legs. (Ed's first question - should we be worried about Lenore for
writing this?) How
old do you think was Roger on his birthday? On which of the following did you base your answer to question one? His
fast running ability How did Roger choose to spend his week off and more specifically, his birthday? Sleeping
How do you rate the run? Answer in 50 words. Remember to use colourful, descriptive language. LADIES: (From a bumper sticker) Women, if you're trying to be equal to men, you're setting your sights too low. MEN: Two dumb blondes were trying to measure the height of a flagpole. They tried standing on each other's shoulders and using a step ladder, but couldn't manage to get high enough. Along comes an engineer who pulls the flagpole out of the ground and lays it down and measures it for them. After he leaves the dumb blondes said to each other, "Stupid engineer, we needed the height of it and he gave us the length." (It's
obvious to the thinking woman that the way to measure it would have
been to use triangulation) (Ed's second question - is thinking women
an oxymoron?) |
| ROGERS
RATHER ROUND AND ROUND RUN Date
- 4th February 2003 It
all started off so normally. 15 or so unsuspecting hashers standing
in the windswept and freezing cold car park of The Squirrel waiting
for the off. A nice gentle perambulation led eventually to the A404 where we risked life and limb avoiding the "petrol". And ran up the road towards Mop End. At this juncture, there was still no inkling of the mayhem that was to follow - but read on. As expected by those seasoned hashers who had been there before, we turned left over fields towards Beamond End, turning again to re cross the A404 and re-enter Penn Woods. Now on the map, (well mine anyway) there appear to be but a few paths through these woods. Roger, however, totally disproved this by finding loads. It was about this point when Howard decided to go walkabout - or runabout, disappearing without trace. A hastily assembled search party set off to round up the miscreant. Meantime the rest of us still unsuspecting hashers ran on until , at a junction, Roger produced the fateful bag telling us that there were "choices" as to which trail to run. He went on to explain that there were three or four different trails laid in different colour loo paper i.e. white, pretty peach, a lovely pastel blue and I believe, a fetching light green. Only one problem Roger old son, in the dark THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME. The pretty peach having come up trumps, we set off to try to find the right trail. Up and down the same path several times with the level of confusion rising to unprecedented heights. The air of the surreal was added to by the dead rabbit hanging in the tree next to the trail. Eventually, after much head scratching, we found a trail which purported to be the right one and so loped off more in hope than anticipation. After a few minutes, guess what, same spot, same tree festooned in various strips of similar looking toilet paper and same mortified rabbit. More loops followed, always with the same result - back to the by now well worn path, toilet paper tree and slightly less than well rabbit. Even more loops followed, always with the same result - back to the by now well worn path, toilet paper tree and definately less than well rabbit. Feeling by this time somewhat dizzy, we eventually went somewhere different down a track past a strange concrete pond like structure to a point where Roger declared a choice of back to the pub in reasonably quick order or another 1.6 miles. Needless to say, there were few takers for the long On In and most sane hashers elected for what turned out to be a surprisingly short and easy trot back to civilisation and out of those damn woods which, by now, we all know like the back of our hands. All in all, a very inventive ploy but Rog ,if you are going to do something like this again, go to Toilet Paper R Us where you can get Black, Bright Red etc. P.S. I am sure the rabbit winked. Mick.
|
| Date
- 28th January 2003 From - Royal Standard of England, Forty Green Hounds - A good turn out for January (about 20) Hare - Mick Jones Scribe - Barney
As they assembled for the hare to address them about the troubles and hazards en-route an irate mangeress of the establishment approached the hare vigorously pointing out that she had not been informed of our gathering and how ill manner we were to use their facilities without asking. In response the hare duly informed her that he had spoken to a woman that morning, this person turned out to be the cleaner and apparently her permission did not count. Anyway after much bluster the mangeress left. Eventually
the hash got going, the trail called up the lane towards Penn at the
next check the trail took us into the woods and after hacking through
the woods up a couple of hills we emerged at Beacon Hill near Tylers
Green. The trail headed left down the road towards Loudwater, the
road petering out to a track. I think it was at this point that it
was noticed that Pete was no longer with the pack and in HWH3 style
Super Galactic Hero and the MC volunteered, yes I said volunteered,
to track back and find him. The trail turned left across open fields
and it was not long before Pete with S.G. Hero and MC caught up. With
a view across the Loadwater valley and the M40 viaduct the trail met
Whitehouse Lane that winds up from Wooburn Moor, on up the lane and
with the next footpath on the right we could smell the bar maids apron.
A couple of fields farther and we emerge at Forty Green 50 yards from
the pub. |
| Run
No - 627 Pub - The Whip, Lacey Green Date - 21/01/03 Hare - Barney Scribe - Sam Runners - 19 + 2 dogs As
we all gathered in front of (or some wimps inside) the pub in another As
we set off, of course down the hill, we did find the freshly scattered With
some of our faithful members being on the injury bench (missed you
Ade Thanks Mike for a good hash. |
| Run No.
- 626 The
run from the "Black Horse" on Tuesday night gave an insight
into all that is good and bad about the human ape behaviour. Good
because 10 of us turned out to show solidarity with a fellow in adverse
weather conditions. Bad, because it showed our insanity. Who in their
right mind would choose to go running in such cold weather when one
could see a warmly lit bar and almost feel the heat, through the brick
wall, from the roaring log fire? |
| Run No. - 625 Pub - The Earl Howe, Holmer Green Date - 01/01/03 Hare - Roger Hounds - 16 + 3 walkers + 1 dog
Scribe - Jim New
Years Day 2003 |
| Run
No.- 624 From - The Bernard Arms, Little Kimble
Hare - Mike & Gill Hounds - 15 ish Scribe - Mick Jones We
met at the Bernard Arms replete with Xmas cheer from two days of non
stop noshing and glugging and feeling that running was probably the
last thing that should be undertaken after 25th/26th December's festivities. Happy New Year. |
| Run No -
622 From -The Ship at Cadmore End Hare - Simon Pack -12 and a dog Scribe - Inter Galactic Super Hero
The only sensible suggestion all evening was that we forget about the run and head straight for the pub. Unfortunately we ignored it and we set off anyway. This was despite the fact that the hare had told us it was going to be a very long run, with short cuts only for the wimps. With thoughts of the run back up the hill we descended rapidly towards Fingest, on down through Hanger Wood (note the death theme with the word hang) and down to Chequers Lane (again the death theme, this time in the form of "Lets hang the Prime Minister"). To work on the theme even further, Simon then took us to check in an area known as Gravesend. A long slow pull took us up the road, (and hill), took us to the first of the short cuts - but as this would have meant an entire run of only around 3 miles nobody took it. This was a mistake. The route meandered for what seemed like several long miles along Gilham Copse (This might have been because I had checked the wrong way and had an awfully long way to go even to catch up with the stragglers), eventually we arrived at the second short cut. Phil turned back
claiming he had lost his keys. The remaining brave (if foolhardy) hashers ploughed on up the great north face of the Eiger, which eventually took us to Ibstone House. Returning to the death theme, there is a church in Ibstone but, unusually, there are no old cottages anywhere near it - so what happened to the community? The Black Death wiped it out entirely in 1350. This is unlike the community at the bottom of the hill which got wiped out at the same time by a Bishop who took all of their farms away simply so that he could hunt over them in private. Several hundred people died of starvation, but at least he had a nice ride. After a longish re-group, the check took us right towards Ibstone and right again down the long steep hill past Twigside farm, along to Twigside Bottom and back up an enormous hill where we met and overtook the short cutters who were exercising their prerogative (though not their muscles) by walking. Some hours and a lot of fields and wind-chill factor later, some of us missed a small unmarked gap in a hedge and went the wrong way. I was fortunately called back by Roger, but the short-cutters disappeared for a considerable time before reappearing later from the wrong direction. As the Hare told us we were going back to the pub by a route that didn't take us along the Marlow Road, those of us that knew the area set off down Bigmore Lane, expecting to hang a right and end up in Pound Wood behind the school. This was another mistake as, when he said we wouldn't be running along the Marlow Road ,what he actually meant was that we would be running along the Marlow Road but would have to take an extra long-cut, in the wrong direction, just before we got back to the pub. Silly of us not to realise that. Naturally the shortcuttters short cut (very sensible as it turned out). Still the scenery was great (though being night we couldn't see it) and we all enjoyed the run really. In the pub afterwards (The Hook Norton was excellent) Gerry - who makes the T shirts - presented himself with a one for having completed 400 runs. He was also awarded a Bottle of Bubbly. And, in a million to one shot Phil had found his car keys lying on the ground half way back to the pub. |
| Run
621 Audreys falsies ... or ....'we don't do mud!' .... or did she or didn't she Well that was
exciting ... I went roaring 'round to the car park at the back of
the 'brikkies, turned right, only to find a great mound of earth across
the entrance. 'Oh yes' said Gerry 'I knew all about that ages ago!'
.... huh.
|
| Run
- 620
Unfortunately he hadn't forgotten about the Hashers Curse - Mud. Lot's and lots of mud. Piles of mud. Rivers of mud. Lashings of Mud. Mountains of mud. In fact whole mountain ranges full of gloopy, sticky and downright muddy mud. After a while we all became all became mud connoisseurs - we discussed the numerous textures of mud - sticky mud, cloggy mud, squelchy mud and pure, old fashioned, conventionally muddy mud. But no matter which way we approached it (and we approached it from just about every way you can think of) there was no escaping from the fact that it was still mud. And we certainly didn't escape from it. To be fair Jim had told us it would be muddy. To be unfair we don't care what he said - you can simply have too much of it. Naturally it had been raining (that's what created the mud), so, just as naturally the flour was a little washed out in places. I found out about the first place by missing the check and going about ½ mile too far. Then having to chase for ages to catch up again. Fortunately the pack wasn't going very quickly at this point (mainly because it was bogged down in mud). You might have noticed that a theme was beginning to develop on the run. However, to give Jim his due, he decided to break away from the single theme of mud and introduce a new theme - Hills. So instead of being just muddy, it became muddy and hilly. I am not sure it was an improvement. At the top of one particularly steep and treacherously muddy hill (Note the recurring theme) I checked (wrongly as it turned out) down a particularly slippery mud slide that had been mistakenly signposted as a foot path, I made a major discovery. In the depths of whatever quagmire we were in was a plant that was new to me. It's flower was a deep blue and it disguised itself as a helium filled balloon. Now some people may have claimed that it was not actually a balloon bush but actually a balloon tied up in a somewhat more mundane bush. However I am sure that the true botanists amongst you will simply dismiss this theory out of hand. Not necessarily because it is unlikely, but rather more because it is dull. I carried the balloon flower around the rest of the hash as it seemed to take my mind of the mud. Talking of Mud:- A guy goes to the doctor and the doctor tells him, "I have some very bad news for you. I'm afraid that you're afflicted with a fatal and incurable disease." So the guy asks, "Well isn't there ANYTHING I can do, doc?" "Hmmm.... maybe you should go to a spa and start taking daily mud baths." The doctor tells the patient. "Mud baths? Will that help me, doc?" "Probably
not . . . but at least you'll get used to being covered in dirt!" |
| Run
- 618 It had been a terrible day. The rain had lashed down, the forcast was for more rain by the bucket and truckload. So we were surprised to arrive and find a clear starry night. Congratulations to the Hare Mike for arranging this. The biggest snag from the aforementioned lashings was that the trail had been entirely washed away. However, Hare Mike had re-set strategic parts of it that evening. (PS the definition of strategic parts seems to be those parts he could reach by car!). At the pre-hash pep talk we were told that the trail set out a big loop of just over 4 miles in a clockwise direction, so we should be comfortable back at around 9.00. "That sounds good", I thought - and I was right. It did sound good. Unfortunately it didn't happen that way and the pack got back in a very sorry state at around 9.30 - with some fearless hashers even scrounging a lift in a car up Cryers Hill! (Shame on you). Because we are a just hash we won't name the guilty parties - but Mick Jones and Barney know who they are! The guilty driver, however, we will name - Aud (see picture of her enjoying herself). Her excuse for not running with us this week was lame even by her own standards (pervious excuses have included "having to wash the rabbit" and "her friend wasn't coming so she had to go and talk to her"). This weeks excuse was that she was kept late at school! But back to the "Clockwise run" - "Well, you'd have to be stupid to check left at the start if it's clockwise" said Roger. Which was a pity as left was exactly the way we had to go. The next check was a quickish half mile down the road towards Prestwood, followed by a sharp right into a field in the Holmer Green direction. Because there was no flour left, we missed the next check (which wasn't there) and went on a quarter of a mile too far before getting called back. This became somewhat of a theme for the evening. However, even if you did get lost, Mike put lots of arrows down so you could find your way. (This was particularly useful for Lenore who arrived 20 minutes late and armed with only a map and absolutely no sense of direction tried to catch us up - she would have made it too if Mike hadn't hidden one arrow around a sharp corner in some trees so that she missed it) After a somewhat devious set of turns (which to be fair were mainly clockwise) we ended up in a muddy field at the back of Hazelmere, and the more astute of us guessed (wrongly as it turned out) the way he would take us back. On past Rockhallis farm, over the road and past the beautiful Brand's House we went, then on down Church Lane (which isn't a lane but a path, and hasn't got a Church on it). It was here I made my big (but lucky) mistake. I was in front (for a change) so I could choose which way to check - and I knew that there was a sneaky path half way down the valley that led directly to the pub - so naturally I checked that way. Now I maintain to this day that I saw flour - I haven't cared to consider that it could have been mould - so off I went. Some 500 yards later I looked back and saw nobody - so I reluctantly turned back to join the pack. A few hundred yards later I saw a torch coming towards me - so I assumed I was right after all, re-turned back and legged it the last mile or so to the pub. Unfortunately what I saw, I later found out, was Roger checking. Still it meant that I actually did get back to the pub soon after 9.00. The rest went on down the hill, over the Hughenden Road, into the park, back parallel to the road to the bottom of the massive and daunting Cryers Hill - then on passed it , up to Bass Lane farm and on-in across the footpath - by which time it was 9.30. In the pub it was a sad farewell to Jay and Carole (sob, no more Zucchini bread) who are moving back to the USA. Jay actually holds the record of having lived locally for the entire existence of the hash but missing around 99% of the runs cos he didn't know about us). |
|
It was one of those days when you look out of the window and think that it would be nice if the run had been yesterday. The rain lashed down all day and you just knew that, unless the hare had managed to find some waterproof flour, the run was going to be guesswork ---- nothing new there then. Did I mention the wind? Well it was just a touch blowy last Tuesday as those few brave souls who ventured out can testify. Indeed, the turnout was pretty lamentable due in part I guess to the slightly less that perfect running weather. Even our very own Inter Galactic Super Hero - Gerry (four back) Palmer did not make it being laid low with a dose of the squitters. Nice to know that even Super Heroes get the trots. I knew it was going to be an eventful evening having got an ear bashing from the landlord as nobody had told him we were coming after which he admitted that the pub was dead anyway!! Mike took pity on us lustily yelling on on down the lane, which led to a very pretty gate onto a farm track. We toddled off into open country, across open fields with the wind (gale) doing it's best to impede progress. A feature of the run was the vast number of stiles, some of which were taller than Goffrey Archer's stories to the judge before he was banged up. There were also quite a few nice little Bridges over numerous streams some of which were high, some of which were rickety and - all of which were slippery. The flour (if there was the four pounds which Mike swore he had splashed out on) featured only rarely as expected. More open fields were traversed with the odd lane in the middle of nowhere being thrown in for good luck. I think we went through Kimble Wick, past Dodd's Charity and Stockwell Lane Farm but, hey, who am I to know the full extent of the convolutions cunningly set out by the hares. Even more windswept fields, steepling stiles and dodgy wooden bridges followed before we crossed the main road, turning right with the usual groan going up from those in the know -"the chuffin pub's left". I would mention that Mike had stated that the run was "short". A field which resembled something from the Battle of The Somme was crossed with vast poundage of mud being taken on board. It was just after this that Robert Green was found on his hands and knees in a field next to the footpath. He was not praying to Mecca as we thought but had put his keys down and subsequently lost them. Oh deep joy we thought and having expended a quarter of an hour grovelling about in the grass and mud and also much battery power, we gave this up as a bad job with poor old Rob legging it back to his home via some obscure route/relative to get his army surplus metal detector. We strode on, crossing the railway line twice and wandering through Askett which the optimists thought was Little Kimble. Eventually, after yours truly got lost in someone's back garden, we got back to the pub for a well earned beer. INCIDENTS :- 1. Lost keys by Robert
Green. Mick |
| Run 613 Run's report Oct 8th. A very confused hare called the pack to order to introduce the rules for a very confusing run. Apparently, he set the hash the night before (notice the word 'night') but didn't bring a torch (that for us North Americans is a flash light). While setting the hash, the hare got hopelessly lost and so set some involuntary false trails. I'm surprised he made it back out of them dark woods at all. Anyway, a good number of us hearty runners, even what's his name - Mr. Crooks - made an appearance, set of to brave the elements and hills and miles andmiles and miles. But being reassured by the hare that we only do the short version we were confident that we should make it back before midnight. As we stampeded along the road, lanes and hard crusted trails I thought again that I could have used my dry weather runners instead of my old, worn-out mud runners. There was some more confusion at the start as somebody called On On but nobody has seen any flour as yet. Even with the dry weather the flour was hard to spot. I think the hare used it all to find his way back out of the woods after getting lost. Once we finally found the correct trail we were off in a storm of dust until a re-group was called or better a lost hound stop to reclaim Flossie from the claws of the woods. Every body was relieved when we saw the flashing red lights approach us through the trees. Setting of again we found some more confusion as some of us run down a trail with very distinct blobs of flour but then heard a distant On On from behind us. Trudging back up we caught up with the pack only to find out a few minutes later that we just made a circle and experienced a feeling of 'déjà vu' as we run down the same trail again. From there on we had no more surprises except that we got back to the pub by 9:07 but we all shuddered at the thought of what the long version would have been like. Thanks for a good run Mike.
I thing we all enjoyed it. |
Photo Caption competition Photo of Rob Green Courtesy of Aud
My caption is ........... |
| Run 612 The Mission: Code name
V U's. The purpose of this mission remains too highly classified to
be included in this document. |
|
| The RV point,
the V U's, was in a hidden place that required top navigational skills
to reach. The troops began to assemble at 19:30. Those absent that
night may have failed to find the RV. After that sketchy start the troops began to find and interpret the codemarks on their own. Up on this high ridge a cold front moved in, releasing some cool rain. This was just a reminder of the miserable, cold, wet, muddy conditions they would have to endure in the trenches during the coming months. However, when the group descended 3000 feet the chill was gone, and the rain stopped. Then came the 3000 foot ascent. This was successfully completed by the group. Occasionally some of those in the front went back to assist those who were behind. After the ascent there was a tense moment when a break-away group lead by the GI GIlbies went AWOL. Their stage whispers could be heard in the darkness. "Turn off your torches so they won't see us!" Fortunately they decided to rejoin the squadron before all was lost. They will be on KP duty for a long time. All in all, the mission
was a success: The mission was accomplished with little difficulty by all the men and women participating. Were the troops really super-fit and prepared for anything, or.......has the Iron Man gone soft, not stretching the troops to their last thread of endurance? |
|
| Date 24th September
2002 Awaiting scribe from Ian!
|
 |
| Pub White Lion
Chesham I tried to work out where we went on the run by checking in my map book. We started off by running down an alleyway that doesn't exist, found a road (which does exist), went around a square and checked at a tunnel (that doesn't exist). The way was found on-on by the back of the railway, (which does exist), past some checks, (which don't), and down an alley that only seems to appear under Brigadoon-like circumstances. Soon afterwards we got to a field I couldn't find on the map, so we ran around two sides of it, missed the check, went too far, went back, and ran around most of the other two sides, before turning right into a wood that, once again, I have no idea where was. I hope you are finding this helpful in tracing out the route. (Note to self: buy a new map book) Somehow we found ourselves by the crossroads near Walk Wood (which is singularly inappropriately named as we belted through it). We crossed over a small river known as Great Water and headed towards Latimer and Latimer House. Jim, a returning hasher who we have only seen twice in two and a half years, performed an elegant tripping-moose in the woods - so "Well done Jim" - for returning that is, not moosing. Soon we re-crossed Great Water and ran into West Wood again before promptly and conclusively loosing the trail. With hashers searching in every direction we found loads and loads of paths (and hills), but no flour. Eventually the hare called on-on down a blindingly obvious path (that nobody had found) and followed a well marked path. Until then, the path had been totally invisible to anyone not called Tommy or Fiona (just in case you don't know that's a cultural literary reference so you might have to ask Gill about it). Eventually we got to the top of the West Wood hill and found a circle clearly marked on the corner of Chenies and Beechwood Avenue. Having checked it out we were called back to the previous check as, apparently the check we found didn't exist (shades of Brigadoon again). From West Wood we ran (and ran and ran as there were no possible places for checks) all the way from one end of Lane Wood to the other. The trek was highlighted with two separate back checks (one for 4 and one for 6 people) and with sweets from Ian for the people who had to run back. After the first back check, Lenore thought she was safe so led the way to the end of the wood - where she saw the 6 back-arrow and swore (very loudly) a most unladylike couple of words which we honestly never expected to hear coming from her lips! Being Lenore, she took a leaf from Gills book and didn't run to the back of the pack- so another dishonourable mention in despatches goes to Lenore - of "fluffy wash" as she will probably never become known after her "comment" at finding the back-arrow! Then it was a simple jog down Raans lane, through Raans farm and over the pedestrian bridge before we found the ON-IN and legged it home for the pub. Fortunately, the Courage Best was off. Another nice run from the Chessmaster. |
| Date10th September
2002 Jeff's hash was very complicated. He had devised a puzzling set of marks, new to HWH3, but it does have to be said you could clearly see them. We set off up what seemed like the north face of the Eiger, with piles of rubbish as an extra. Mike Swan and Roger were late but they managed to catch us up - and in the confusion a veteran hasher nearly got lost. The hash did seem to go on and on, but the Hare was extremely kind to the nearly lost veteran who had a nasty cold. The hash was distracted briefly looking for a lost 13 year old, but eventually struggled back into Chesham. The nearly lost veteran hasher with the cold thought the pub was a bit cheerless, but otherwise it was a good night. |
| Date 3rd September
2002 It's always nice to see an old hasher return - and, believe me, they don't come much older than Nigel Barr! But welcome back! The Chequers is a fine old pub country pub - unfortunately it's nestled between five dirty great hills. Fortunately we only went up one of them, unfortunately we went up it twice! We set off past Fingest Church (with Rob and Sue screeching into the car park) and thought we saw the infamous Green Man ghost which haunts the graveyard - but it was only a solitary hasher who had gone the wrong way. A short way up the road we hung a right and ran along the valley, (one of the prettiest in the area) before looping back and hashing straight up what appeared to be the Great North face of the Eiger and then re-grouping in (the dark) in Mousells Wood. Although we didn't realise it until later this must have been where a lady dog walker (presumably that's someone that only walks lady dogs) lost her white dog and where we lost Audrey and Tracey (they did catch up later by shortcutting). Apparently Gill - who we understand has never run back at a back arrow herself, - set both a back arrow and a new record in double standards. The route took us along the footpath that by-passes Freith, and heads through Shogmore, before turning down the long downhill path through Hattchet Wood. The huge number of roots made running treacherous -fortunately the Moose walked around the hash with his better half, or he might have become the world's first multi-moose pile-up. A quick run down the hill and we entered Skirmett - where all the experienced Hashers relised it was just a short on-in trot up the lane back to the pub. Unfortunately we didn't go that way, but turned round and went back up the hill again, then, rather than turning towards the pub we turned directly away from it - with many cries of "If Gill hadn't set it she would be moaning like crazy now". Looping back to the road we had just run across there were cries of "Go left at the next corner" from the back. Unfortunately this was a lie and because of it we ended up where we had just come from and had to turn around and run a quarter of a mile back up the hill to the corner where we shouldn't have turned left in the first place. The trek back up the hill to Mousells Wood was steep, long, tiring and very dark, but the reward was a splendid long half mile downhill on-in back to the pub, warmth and a jug or two of excellent beer. |
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Date 27th August
2002 Well, what can you say about a perfect hash? a brilliant trail and a whole new area that we had not run in before? I guess I can also say it was flat, beautiful (we ran along the Thames and the new Jubilee River which doubles as a nature reserve and bird park). We saw a floodlit Windsor Castle in the distance, and herons, cormorants, grebes, swans and hashers from closer up. We learnt a little about the history and archaeology of this outstanding area (reproduced in much longer fashion below) The following was overheard on the run "Felix, my husband,
was playing golf with our town's fire chief when he hit a ball into
the rough. As Felix headed for the brush to find his ball, the chief
warned, "Be careful, the rattlesnakes are out." "Well," said the chief, "the first thing I ask is, 'Is it on fire?' "
We ran over a conveyor belt - with Gill totally ignoring the back arrow (see later for more scandalous info) and emerged onto the Thames at the first of two lady's checks. Swinging north we ran along the Thames and re-grouped under the motorway for a 7 way check and a stunningly pretty view of the bridge's reflection in the river. Then it was on by the motorway for a few hundred yards and the hare took us off-trail for about 20 yards so that we had to climb up a steep bank and over a fence, rather tan take the conventional footpath. Ade ran the extra 20 yards because, as he put it "I'm a wimp and my ankle might hurt". A few hundred yards and a "Girls only" back arrow further on, we swung across a field with a Gill only back arrow. Gill didn't play the game and wouldn't run back at either of them! (cries of shame). (Note, the next week Gill was the hare and she included back arrows - there is a word for that but I cant spell hypocrisy so I won't use it. We soon arrived at the
Jubilee River and wound our way along both sides of it until we reached
a boardwalk out into the marshy river - which we ran around, ending
up back where we had started. Then it was a quick loop over two bridges
and a short and long way on-in. The short gave a total run length
of 4.7 miles and the hashers were back before 9.00 - and the long
was a fitter 6.2 miles and back by 20 past. |
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A POTTED HISTORY OF
DORNEY AND THE AREAS WE SAW ON THE HASH 10,000 BC to c. 4,000 BC - The Mesolithic or Middle Stone Age
2400 BC to c. 800 BC
- The Bronze Age Scattered around the edges
of the fields were a total of 12 cremations. These must represent
the portion of the population who were not rich or powerful enough
to have a larger, more formal tomb.
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Date 20th August
2002 This was without question
a well-laid hash. I can say that confidently as my sister Natasha
and I started the hash at 8 o'clock, which the more astute amongst
you (okay, that rules most of us out) will have realised is 15 minutes
late. The hare, Ade, not normally known for his prompt time-keeping,
had already led the pack out, so we were left to follow in their wake.
Simple, we thought, we'll just follow the marks, and no doubt like
the conscientious and helpful hashers they are, at each check they'll
have kicked out the circles in the correct direction. We'll catch
them up in no time. |
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Date 13th August
2002
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Date
6th August 2002 From The Kings Arms @ Prestwood Hare Roger Scribe Gerry Why, we wondered did the hare take a torch with him on a light summer evening? Any run that's only 4.5 miles long, flat and not rained upon, is a good run. And this was a good run despite the fact that I dashed off madly in the wrong direction at almost every check. Despite the fact that Roger had set the run on the previous Sunday and the weather had not been kind to the flour, there was just about enough left to find the run. However, it was a mystery why all of the Palmerism back arrows had been beautifully preserved (so you had to go back and couldn't pretend you hadn't seen them), but a lot of the other flour was missing! Murphy's law of Hashing strikes again!. There was even a neat “Boys Only” back check, where the boys had to run back, so the girls got to the front and had to check out at the next circle. The run was in the shape of a large and wonky circle with three rounded corners ( so it wasn’t another of Roger’s famed special shape runs) and it included a place where we had to re-cross the trail we had already run over. We should have guessed that was what happening when Roger disappeared first time through, presumably to mark the second check. While crashing through a very muddy wood we met Ade and Jilly coming the other way on a walker-s trail - after which they got hopelessly lost as Ade's map reading skills are said to rival his ability to stay upright for more than 7 paces in a row. Overheard on the way around “The efficiency expert concluded his lecture with a note of caution. " You don't want to try these techniques at home." " Why not?" asked someone from the back of the audience? " I watched my wife's routine at breakfast for years," the expert explained. " She made lots of trips to the refrigerator, stove, table and cabinets, often carrying just a single item at a time. "Hon," I suggested, "why don't you try carrying several things at once?" The voice from the back asked, " Did it save time?" The expert replied, " Actually, yes. It used to take her twenty minutes to get breakfast ready. Now I do it in seven. " But back to the run well back, to the pub actually, with a neat On-In down a narrow tree-lined passage that was almost totally dark But at last we realised, having stumbled into trees, and bashed painfully into overhanging branches, exactly why the hare had taken a torch with him in the first place! |
British
sports commentary at its very best! - CONT from last week
"I owe
a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father" (Greg Norman) |
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Date 16th July 2002 As many of you know the Fox & Hounds is near some of the best views in Buckinghamshire. Unfortunately this means it is high up - and, even more unfortunately it meant we had to run down (twice) and thus up (again twice). We also ventured off trail - but not in any normal way. The Hare Lenore, (better known as "Lenore, I am going to maim everyone, Brown") also took us through what seemed like a cross between a thick, impenetrable, jungle/ forest and a suicide mission. In fact she carefully found a trail where every sharp broken-off branch was cunningly hidden at either groin or eye height. She had also had words with the weathermen who had organised a hot, sweaty and extraordinarily humid night. So, all-in-all, her hash enabled the hounds to choose if they wanted to die by exhaustion, by impaling or by heat stroke. In the middle of it all, we met a Watlington Hasher, who was looking very lonely as there isn't actually a Watlington Hash - and he ran around with us for a while until he realised we were going back to the top for a second time, and (sensibly) sloped off to a nearby pub. Eventually the communications mast hove into view and we realised that we were only a few hundred yards from the pub. So naturally Lenore, or "Fiend in human shape", to give her proper title, took us off in exactly the opposite direction and added an extra mile-long loop! Tired and exhausted we fell back to the pub, where, after a refreshing pint or two and as the pain started to fade, we remembered the stunning views, the warm night, other people attempting their mooses and the few trails where we actually went the right way - and somehow it didn't seem too bad after all. Great stuff!
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Run 600th Formal
Dress Run With the threat of rain
we assembled at Gerrys House (Palmer Arms) in our best bib and tucker
for what was expected to be a nice short run followed by a superb
bar-be-que laid on by our host to mark the 600th run.
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Date June 25 20022002 25 June Well, just to find the Blackwood Arms, Littleworth Common, is almost a Hash in its self with all the checks and turns in the road. (Actually I do ask myself how a pub tucked away like this can survive with just the odd cyclists and sweaty hashers stopping for a well deserved pint.) Eventually we did all arrive at the correct pub just after the hare arrived over the stile with a bottle thatlooked like it once contained flour which he was now wearing. Shortly after the first
'On On' out of the parking lot, the 'Terror Twins' arrived too so
we had to slow down right at the start to give them time to catchup
with the field. We then headed down or better around a field after
which we found the first 'F' for false trail after about six blobs
of flour. After a few more checks and turns we entered Birnham Beeches
with stern warnings to all the fellows not to park themselves behind
a tree or they risk to be shot at by the wee patrol. Actually we only
saw one member of the anti-flour patrol but passed A two foot diameter tree laying across the path does not move as easy as a hurdle in the Olympics 100 meter hurdle. Actually it didn't move at all so the object sticking it will be thrown out of its path which happens to be Mike. Better luck next time. Of course Ad did not want to let this precious prize betaken from him and immediately followed with almost a face down splash into one of the many water/mud puddles but was able to save himself this time. Finally reaching the 'On In' we found out that we were only about two thirds of the way around and the On In another mile or so it seemed. But we all did make it back to enjoy a pint or more of some liquid or another. Oh, if the rumour is true that stinging nettles prevent arthritis, the proof of this rumour will be that no hasher in the UK will ever suffer from this illness!! Two walkers were out who had pity on Corry the hound, who thought it was definitely to warm to run. Thanks Peter for a wonderful run in a beautiful setting and warm summer evening. I think most of us enjoyed it. From Sam
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Hare Sam It was a lovely summers evening, set in beautiful and rarely hashed countryside. The gathering crowd was friendly, the views were delightful, the drive there had been wonderful, the temperature was balmy and it looked as if the area was at its English summer best, what could spoil such an idyllic scene? Sam could. We started off straight up one of the Chiltern's over-abundant giant hills - the top of the field shimmered in the distance - but by the time we got there it shimmered through oxygen starvation. But at least the monster hill was over. Wrong. It was one of those hills with false summits - you get there and find another even bigger one behind it. So we set off again, up a road that clearly laboured under the belief that it was a Himalayan mountain trail. At the top Sam introduced
an innovation. The first 5 runners were sent off in one direction,
the rest of the pack went the easy way. Unfortunately, I had to do
the extra loop - which involved (yet another) minor Himalayan peak,
a wooded patch where we had to clamber through hedges, trees and stingers
(I do not consider the option that I had gone the wrong way) and a
long muddy trail that I shouldn't have taken and had to retrace when
I heard Sam yelled ON ON from a different (and far flung) direction. Then a very strange thing happened. We had a regroup and jointly decided to do an extra loop Sam had put in - he said it was only another 0.8 Miles. He didn't mention the wild herd of cattle that came thundering through the group splitting us in two, he didn't mention the third extra loop, the stingers, the mud or the hill. Then 10 minutes later we found ourselves back where we had just been and headed off (again uphill). I think it was here we had the mile between checks section, but as most of us were reeling with weariness and had given up all hope of ever seeing the pub again, I am not to sure. Soon we were back at Bix Common and Sam announced that there was a long way in - and we all took it - I think delirium had set in. Well, it was the longest ON-IN in living memory and I measured it later on the map as 2.1km ! The entire run was a massive 10.7km. When we got back to the pub we met Aud and Tracey, who said that they hadn't run because they had found Jeramy Paxman's dog, which looked lost so they put it in their car. The story also involved his daughter (who had no shoes and they wouldn't give her a lift). It turned out that the dog wasn't the dog they thought it was, but another dog with a different name. It was voted Aud's most inventive reason for missing a run yet and we eagerly look forward to her next one!
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Run The Bounty @
Bourne End In the beginning was the World and the world was without form and void. And God said to Gerry, "Lo, now set your run. The way is smooth and flat, and every point can be seen from every other point, and distance is as but nought. There can be no complaints". But Gerry frowned and said (in a camelious way), "Hrrmph, but that is not the point. How can I show Machiavellian cunning with this tapestry. I must have features with which to deceive". And so it came to pass that God created hill and dale and water, all contained in a hectare and gave this to Gerry to do his worst. Gerry sought cunning advice and turned to Blackadder, who, fortunately was not interested. Baldrick suggested a run in the shape of a turnip, but as turnips can grow into any shape, this was not of much benefit. Gerry turned to Tolkien who advocated the use of runes. These runes would be laid upon the ground and depending on the time of day, or the brightness of the light, or just the way you looked at them, they could mean many things. Gerry was much pleased and said "Thranq-Mithril you" (in the polite version spoken by the Abbey scholars of yesteryear). So began the quest. Before we left the paddock of the Iron Horse, we paid our levy to the Lord of the Manor and took our token in return. The way led first to the north side of the running-ground-water (not to be confused with the sky-water-running which was to greet us later). Here the runes pointed hither and thither, and led us into conflict with the Iron Horse called New Running Gear. We retreated and found ourselves back whence we came. We sallied forth once more but this time we crossed the running-ground-water because that is what the runes suggested on re-examination. We ran hither and thither again, not knowing where to go. Time after time, our scouts returned, being misled by the runes that spoke in one tongue to them and another when re-read by the wise men bringing up the rear. We must have run 3 turnips before we discovered our Bounty, all masked in mist, but warm inside. There we found 3 maidens fair. Striders they called themselves. They too were on a quest. Looking for a "davys". Said they we going to give him (sic) what's what, which was (by the way) more than he deserved. Odd. They never saw any runes. Seems that women are blind to runes, which is why they never act on them. (NOTE - THREE SEPERATE AND VERY Dishonourable mentions to Gill who, yet again was the only person to ignore the Runes) Gerry should go into politics.
He is very good at gerrymeandering, and his runes (written word) never
mean the same thing twice (unless it suits him). |
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Run The Crooked
Billet Near Bourn End Ah, the joys of hashing in the springtime - azure carpets of bluebells fresh-sprung from the mist-dampened earth, young muntjac deer half-seen through verdant veils of vernal foliage, some bloke with a dirty great shooter, little birds twittering in the...hang on a minute. Yes, this was the hash that came to a halt when we met Mr Mash and his trusty firearm, 'good for up to 4km' apparently, though the local venison no doubt take a rather dimmer view of its efficacy. Up to that point we had already enjoyed Ian's explanation of where the blobs would be found - "always on the right" - followed by watching Pete speeding up Sheepridge Lane checking on the left (attaboy!) and disappearing over the horizon for the duration of the hash. We then headed in a generally uphill direction, with eager FRBs desperately unting for the turnbacks - this strange behaviour explained by Ian's promise of tokens (sweeties!) for those thus demoted to the rear. We entered the woods at the top and then encountered more checks than an american bank clerk, being turned, turned and turned again, eventually finding ourselves deep in pheasant-raising territory (Flossie having already done a fair bit of this). It was here, whilst Roger was checking out the trail, that I noticed a figure in an obscure variety of DPM jacket waving his rifle in the air. The only word I could discern was 'killed', but that was enough for his point to have been made. Thankfully on this occasion it was less 'Get orf moi laaaand!', more 'Do give us a tinkle next time you're on your way through, old boy', so after Gill had done her best schoolma'am admonishing of 'naughty Ian' for leading all us law-abiding hashers off the straight-and-narrow of the public footpath network, we proceeded with the blessing of Mr Mash and his Banger. A bit more running about and checking it out (with 'hands up' and white handkerchiefs to the fore) then at last the dulcet tones of Mr Gerry Palmer calling the 'on in' and back to the Crooked Billet to rendezvous with the missing Pete and enjoy the incoming darkness over a pint or two of Bass or Brakspears (and lots of fudge and liquorice allsorts - mmmm yummy). Nice one Ian! |
| Run The Crown @ Cookham Date: April 16, 2002 Hare: Mike Swan Venues: The Crown, Cookham: for 15 of the hounds; Cookham Dean:for 2 runners who followed the map; and Radnage: for one runner. Used car lot: Gilly, who made it to the Cookham, but decided to buy a car instead of running with her long coat on. It was another hash without rain. The trail took us on scenic paths along the Thames, then up a not-too-tall hill providing a nice view of the Thames valley. We circled counter-clockwise from the Thames, going through some pastures and near some farms. The adrenalin surged for some as we made our way past some animals that were much larger than we. (Note the correct use of the nominative case for Gill's sake.) The trail eventually went through a village (my guess is Cookham Dean), by some more pastures, under a tunnel of trees and to the end. The pace was fairly brisk by HWHHH standards. Summer is on it's way, as evidenced by some new leaves, and lots of flying bugs at head level. Although the run started in daylight, we still did not manage to finish without using torches. There was a champagne stop at the end where we sang happy birthday to Gerry and Mike. If you want a more precise
and accurate description of where we went, you could The following is a serious scientific article, not a piece of hashing rubbish, which was published on April 4, 2002 in "The Economist". I will call this study 'The (un)Sobering Truth about Exercise'. Apr 4th 2002 - from The Economist print edition An addiction to exercise worsens an addiction to alcohol SERIOUS runners often show the hallmarks of addiction. They get a "runner's high" from working out. As time passes, they must work harder and harder to achieve the same fix. Without it, they become depressed and anxious, the classic symptoms of withdrawal. Stefan Brene and his colleagues at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm had hoped to exploit this fact to wean a group of alcoholic rats on to the healthier addiction of wheel running. Instead, they found that excessive bouts of exercise only made matters worse. The researchers allowed a group of rats (editors note: are you sure this isn't about Hashers), to play with running wheels for two weeks. The rats so enjoyed their sport that they were soon doing mini-marathons of around ten kilometres (six miles) a day. Then the wheels were locked. For five weeks thereafter, the only amusement on offer was alcohol. The rats took to this new hobby just as enthusiastically, consuming over half their total fluid from a bottle of ethanol. In the third phase, the alcohol was taken away. Half of the rats, though, got back their wheels. They were soon running away their sorrows at the rate of four to eight kilometres a day. A few weeks later, all the rats were once again given the chance to drink alcohol, and all did so. Contrary to what the researchers expected, the rats that had exercised during their forced abstinence were even bigger boozers than those who had abstained. Those that exercised drank up to twice as much alcohol as those who did not. The neuroscientists reckon that the rats were victims of "cross-sensitisation", a phenomenon in which taking one addictive drug can make an addict more susceptible to the effects of another. Drugs such as heroin and opium trigger the release of dopamine in a part of the brain called the nucleus accumbens. Dopamine is a chemical messenger involved in generating a sense of pleasure in this part of the brain. Excessive running activates the same brain pathways, which makes alcohol feel better and therefore more addictive. As Dr Brene and his team report in a forthcoming issue of Behavioural Brain Research, a taste for natural highs can thus encourage a taste for artificial ones. If only the process worked as well in reverse. |
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Run From The Crown,Radnage A short pull took us to the Bledlow Road which we slogged down for a not inconsiderable distance past the church to The Boot. We ran round the back of the hallowed emporium with Moose taking a separate trail to talk to three horses whilst the rest of us went the right way. As with a lot of hashes, we emerged on the main road practically back where we were 10 minutes previously. Lenore then followed her own falsie up the road eventually realizing that the path was right over a stile into a field obviously usually occupied by horse judging by the vast amounts of dung. We shortly reached the spot where, had Gerry been A1 OK, we would have had a bubbly stop and duly regrouped. With tounges which, like Jamie Oliver, did not fit our mouths we motored on over more fields and hills culminating in a nice lope down into a valley. At this point Lenore noticed the knitting circle of 4 "runners" strolling down the hill which the rest of us had just traversed. "What the hell are they doing" she cried becoming more anguished as the said strollers had still not caught up after a five minute break in proceedings. We trotted on leaving the lagards in our wake only to reach a track which Moose stated was a right pig which went on and on uphill into the clouds and on which he had had some argy bargy with an old trout on a horse. He was right ---- it was very long but we eventually emerged on the road for a welcome On Inn. All in all a nice run. For sure you get more with Lenore |
| Run From The Crown,Hazlemere Date 19th March 2002 Hare Robert Martyr No. of Hounds 12 incl. Flossie Scribe Mick Jones After last weeks halcyon
run on a balmy (or barmy ?) spring evening, I suppose it was a bit
much to hope for more of the same. We turned up with trepidation at
The Crown on an evening that could best be described as wet. Indeed,
to say it was wet was a bit like saying the Titanic suffered slight
offside damage. Either Robert is very unlucky or he don't bother to buy much flour 'cos every time he sets a run it slashes down so you can't find any of Tescos finest, if there really was any that is. But back to the run. We battled along the road looking for the elusive white stuff until a right hander was pointed out leading to a footpath which magically became a river. This wouldn't have been so bad had it not been for certain comments about sewage and how the locals deal with it. The feeling was that we were in the s**t. We emerged at the Beech Tree to once again run the gauntlet of the A.404, crossing over to plod out into open country. Debatable whether there was more water coming down from above or more underfoot but I think water skis would have been useful. Having crossed a couple of swamps --- sorry fields, we emerged on the Widmer End road where some cheery soul announced that if the left hand track was taken, we would end up in the middle of Wycombe (with only about a 400 ft hill to climb to get to the pub). Great joy then when we went right.Yippee!!! After more waterlogged paths and a woody bit the road was rediscovered. A right hand turn took us towards Grange Farm which, being a farm, did not dissapoint with the quantities of shiggy. We contemplated a pond before moving on along a track described, erroneously I feel, by Barney as a road eventually to emerge hear The Three Horseshoes at Hazlemere crossroads. A shortish "on in" followed to rediscover the watering hole and, this is the best bit, it was only 8.58pm. WELL DONE ROBERT. P.S. Tracey shook hands with the ground on the way round but still tackled a bag of crisps (without washing said hands). As they were curry flavour, I don't suppose she could tell any difference -- between the mud and crisps that is. |
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The Red Lion, Coleshill Date: 12th March 2002 Hare: Mike Jones No of Hounds: 18 Scribe: Barney The whole event could be described as deteriorating degrees of Bull ****. For reasons that Bull **** featured highly in this event, both physically on the run and from the mouth of the hare when he realised that this 4.4 mile hash was in fact nearer 5.2 miles and destined to be 30 minutes late back to the all important pub. Coleshill is a fine village perched, as the name suggests, at the top of a hill. Hence the first part of the run tracked us down out of Coleshill into wooded valleys and footpaths heavily churned up by the passage of horse riders along the footpaths and bridle ways. As we made our way through footpaths and ploughed fields towards the Beaconsfield/Amersham Road the mud became deeper and wetter as the persistent rain set in for this damp and dreary evening. The pinnacle of our wallowing in mud was unsurpassed as we traversed a small valley copse, ankle deep in foul smelling Bull **** and clearly at this point all hashers, including the hare, found great difficulty in locating the trail out of this predicament. None the less, On-On, through travellers encampment and over fields towards Seer Green we tramped, seemingly endlessly, until finally finding ourselves back at the Magpies on the Beaconsfield Amersham Road. At this point everyone was glad to recognise the signs of civilisation and despite the uphill climb to Colehill and the late arrival back, were eager to press on in search of the hospitality of The Red Lion. Back at The Red Lion and eager to get on with the social part of the evening our rapturous and raunchy hashers found both a darts match and a quiz in progress. To our dismay we were asked to be quiet until the quiz was finished. I think this was only after Gill had decided to answer all the questions out loud, pointed out that this was a public house and if they wanted to hold a quiz they should do it in private. (Editor's note - having read the runs report around half of the hashers asked me to strengthen this bit on their disapprovel, words ranged from petulant to embarassing and loutish). All in all one of the wettest, muddiest and in many ways eventful Tuesday evenings we have enjoyed this year so far. A footnote must be added concerning the hares notorious reputation for moaning at runs that finish late. As soon as the witching hour of 9:00 arrives he is noted for groans of long runs and “thirsting for the barmaids apron” and “why do we always have to suffer such inconsiderate hares this is a social event not a marathon” |
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Red Lion @ Whiteleaf Date: 5th March 2002 Hare: Barney No of Hounds: around 18 Scribe: Gerry It was a whole 50 yards before we got to the first hill - and some of the smarter hashers will notice that the word "hill" becomes a bit of a theme for the run. After what seemed like years of running up the road / hill, we took off to the right adown a long path and became somewhat spread out. However, any fear of boredom while waiting was brilliantly relieved by a totally splendid moose from Kevin. Not running - not really even walking much, not even slippery - but a wonderful legs in the air -head-over-heels flying moose - on flat, clear, solid, safe, ground - for no reason we could make out at all - a real contender for the end of year award - keep up the good work Kevin! Then it was "ON-UP" the first set of steps, and "Ouch" they went on a long way. Once we reached the top of the hill, we followed the advice of the Grand Old Duke of York - and we ran back down again, followed by another long check, then an even longer one across a field and the first of two dishonourable mentions for Gill. Gill was near the front and got to a back arrow - but not only wouldn't go back like everyone else, but also encouraged Lenor (so it's a dishonourable mention to her as well) not to run back either. As a result Gill was near the lead when we got to another back arrow - and, again failed to run back like the rest. Indeed one honourable hasher who will remain nameless (Mike) ran back in her place. Next came the hardest hill of all - it not only went on for ever, was incredibly steep and mixed stairs with track, but it didn't even give us a decent view when we got there! However, that was amply made up for about 10 minutes later when we got to Whitleaf Cross - which has one of the best views in the Chilterns The origins of Whitleaf Cross are unknown, the earliest reference is to a phallic shaped boundary marker in 903, perhaps altered by monks into the cross. I say this as I am sure that the thought of phallic seeking people wearing long dresses will appeal to some of the more degenerate hashers. And no, I won't say who the degenerate hashers are so Aud and Tracey will have to remain anonymous! Then it was a splendid downhill ON-IN run back to the pub.
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The Chequers, Wheeler End Date: 26 Feb. 2002 Hare: Gerry No of Hounds: around 15 Scribe: Jeff What can one say? Wheeler end or World's end? Certainly Armageddon had come to Bullocks lane and made a right bullocks of getting to Wheeler end along that main Buckingham? Highway. Luckily I was flashing at the side of the road and two damsels? sorry Harriets certainly not in distress rescued me, gave me a quick wink (yes wink) and I followed their tails to Worlds end via Lane end to the pub that could have been called the Bell at Bell E?? but instead was the Chequers, a fine Fullers establishment. I was looking forward to sampling their Pride (and joy), but some sadistic sod kept me running round the countryside for over an hour. Not only that, but then had the gall to ask me to write about it. Brilliant run considering
the conditions and very well marked. That's it can I go now? 1. If you climb over barbed
wire don't do it with shorts on and don't hold onto the spiky bits. |
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RUN The Queens Head
Chesham AGGGAH! Wow! What a night! The unofficial competition for the muddiest run is officially over. Jeff won - hands down (and, lets be honest, knees, legs and tummy buttons down in some places as well). The run is unlikely to be beaten until hell freezes over. And, apart from the mud there was the weather - WOW again, this time with an extra dash of "Oh My God". It was just about the worst weather ever. It started slashing down - and then (unlike the hash) it went downhill. At one point I turned around a corner and the howling gale/hurricane actually blew me backwards up the hill! - Unfortunately I was trying to get down it at the time. The rain was horizontal. And we got back at 25 to 10 after what was actually just under a 5 mile run / quagmire / assault course / hell incarnate. Only 9 hashers set out (including the Hare and Flossie) and someone commented that it was odd that Gill always seemed to be working when the weather was bad. We dashed to the park, onto the roundabout, onto the swings, over the top of the climbing frame and onto the long fun whizzey thing (OK, I don't know what it's called!). Then we went up the hill (having stopped and played, some of us were quite a long way back - but fortunately the front runners went wrong and had to come back anyway). Then it was round the west side of Chesham to the Ashridge Road industrial estate. Then the mud started 0n a footpath (up a hill) that I hadn't known existed - no! I knew the hill was there! just not the footpath) - it went on for miles through a wood at the top of the hill. Lots of slipping, and lots of nice mud. Then down a hill, up the road towards the Blue Ball and then back up the same hill and lots more mud. Oh and did I mention the mud - or the rain. At five past nine we were about as far away from the pub as we couldheithout actually being in Hertfordshire. Soon we hit another quagmire. And the rain, and the gale / hurricane, cyclone and tornado. At the top of one of the most exposed hills I have seen the rain slashed up at us and I got blown backwards by the force of it all - it was worse than Aud and Tracey both talking at you at the same time! Then down the hill, nearly home before going off in totally the wrong direction into still more mud. Eventually we found Chesham again and it was a mere mile and a bit back across the town, for nine very tired, very worn out and very bedraggled hashers. And, to top it all we had to change in the still pouring, and now cold, rain. All in all it was an absolutely brilliant hash in the very finest traditions - and I enjoyed just about every wet muddy minute of it
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| Run: "The Seven
Hills of Rome Wear Red Run" fromThe Bull & Butcher, Turville Date: 12 Feb. 2002 Hares: Audrey and Tracy No of hounds: 18 Apres without running: Sam We arrived at the pub, nestled in the countryside of the seven hills of Rome. Audrey the she-devil was there, wearing her size 20 red dress that she had saved from her pre Slimfast days. But where was the other hare? She had remembered her red dress, but had forgotten that she would need running shoes to attempt this hash. She made a trip back home to get shoes while the pack strained at their leads to set off. Members of the pack had managed to find red shirts, scarves, hearts, wigs, etc. to wear on the run. We meandered to the far ends of the metropolis called Turville, and found no marks. Eventually Tracy showed up and we were directed up the first hill of the evening, while she took a short cut. We climbed the steep hill and made it to the windmill of "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" fame. (No joke, according to my Chiltern Trail guide, that windmill was in the film.) However, there were neither film crews nor flying cars to be seen, so we pressed on, realizing we had missed our chance to be on the big screen. We reached a peak, then it was all downhill-just for a shot while. We struggled to reach another peak, and then down again. That is basically the plot of the evening. The run was punctuated by a fizzy-drink stop complete with party poppers, and a round of "Happy Birthday to Gill." The trail had been laid on the week-end, as evidenced by a few limp bits of toilet paper above ground level. The tale of this trail got a little twisted when after miles of not seeing any marks, hashers saw well marked trees, and confidently shouted, "On-on." Closer inspection revealed that those marks were in fact spray paint. With hashers "on backing" and Flossie "on barking" we made it to the on in. This was no ordinary on-in. First, Sam the Slacker was presented with a card that told him he had better quit malingering and join us again on the runs. Next, Gerry presented a beautiful cake, made by Audrey in the shape of the 5th hill we had climbed that evening. The birthday balloon silently told us all what had been kept so secret----this was Gill's 60th (sixtieth) birthday! Gill also received a bouquet and a personalized card. Next, Lenore sang her a rendition of "I am 60 going on 70". When asked what the precise date is that the birthday girl will become a sexagenarian, Mike "toy Boy" Gilby replied that it is on Valentine's Day. So maybe they will have a reason to celebrate after all. Ayd's comment: "Sexagenarian, that's nothing. I was that 20 years ago. Now I'm an Octagonarian." Mention must also be made
of a returning long-lost hasher Jim Bradley, who had not been hashing
for so long (18 months) that I had never met him!
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Run
The Royal Arms @ Stokenchurce
Mind you. Would you choose Stokenchurch for your first time? On a dark, wet night when only fools, horses and Hashers are out? I know a few of the locals will disagree, but I guess that when the time is right, the place don't matter. (Word even reached Oxford). It all started outside the Royal Oak. As a tease, Lenor performed an Indian throat rap. I don't know what she said but it certainly set the mood for we dashed off in all directions bar the right way for the first check. By the time we got to the second check just south of the motorway, we were three men fewer. Now that's fast work. After that, I don't know where we went (precisely) but it felt like everywhere. Lenor comes from the other end of Global Crossing where people fly to the supermarket. As it doesn't take much time, but they know it is many miles, it must instil a feeling that miles are only little itsy bitsy things and not very big at all. Lenor had also chosen to set the route in flour based on “4 blobs is ON”. So on occasions, you felt more like a scout rather than an FRB. When you got to the M4, you knew you had gone too far. The weather had not been kind though. The ground was so saturated with water that the latest rain had left the surface a slimy mud bath in most places, knee deep in others and a stream elsewhere. However, it did provide one of the more amusing incidents of the night. I was following Tracy down a steep sodden slope when she fell on her botty, legs akimbo and shrieks all about. Nearby pheasant took to the air in sympathy. Apart from those that got lost, and Audrey who blames Garry, we all arrived back safely. Wetter maybe, but safe. All good training for the half marathon. Thanks Lenor. Just what the doctor ordered. And I won't tell the tabloids. |
The General view
MUD, MUD, PAIN, HILLS AND MORE MUD
Oh, and did I add, we didn't get back until nearly twenty to ten and we were tired & muddy! |
Lenor’s
Hash Rap
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Run
The Royal Standard of England at Knotty Green Well we hadn't run from the Royal Standard for quite some time - but two things were obvious in advance. First, Roger told us that the run was "only 4.1 Miles", and most of you know Roger's reputation by now - his last independently verified "It's only 4 miles" run was 5.7! However, he surprised us this time and it really was only 4.1! (Though it made up for it in mud). Second, from this pub we always head over towards Wycombe Heights Golf Course - the woods are beautiful, the paths are plentiful, clearly marked and the running is good. Again Roger didn't disappoint us - but he did take us in completely the other direction! So we set off along the lane and into a field locally known as "Tha' one with the dirt great steep valley and hill in it" and off we went towards Beaconsfield. Now Roger had set the run on the Sunday before and, unfortunately a good bit of the trail had washed out - so there wasn't much flour left. So when we reached the main road in Beaconsfield, having already gone too far down the road and run through a missing check, and then finding a blob of white powder on the ground I naturally assumed I was going the right way. This was a pity. It was also a pity that the traffic was so loud that I didn't hear the faint "On-On" coming from exactly the opposite direction. Having eventually caught up, we ran through a series of back alleys that I had never even heard of before, all between the High Street and the A355 (the main road to Amersham) nearly reaching as far as Brown's Wood. Again, much of the flour had washed out and the trail was torturous but fun. I particularly enjoyed the bit where I missed the flour but found what I thought was a check, then got called 250 yards back, was forced to run my little socks off to catch up and - 400 yards later - found myself exactly where I had started from - only much more tired and at the very back of the pack! Then it was back across the High Street, down towards the railway and into another wood I didn't know existed. We then circled round past the pub, keeping well to the west, until we hit familiar territory and we knew it was just an easy trot back to the pub. Unfortunately we didn't go back to the pub but struck of through the woods and circled back past the pub again, only not so far to the west. Eventually we arrived back at the road and it was a murderous ON-IN up two separate long, steep and (to my mind) quite un-necessary hills that needn't have been put in our path by the great but vicious geological god. The Great North Face of the Eiger sprang to mind. But then we were back to the (excellent) pub and a few (again excellent) and well earned pints. |
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Run
The Whip - Loosey Row The Whip Inn is the second most obscure location used by HWHHH this year and as I arrived up a steep hill from the valley my heart began to sink as I realised what Ade would have planned for us. If only I knew the truth I might have turned round then. We gathered in a cold wind and welcomed three new hashers to our merry band - will they return? The start of the hash was nicely down hill and we soon warmed up as we turned into the first muddy track. From there it all becomes a bit of a blur of mud, wind, cold, mud and more mud for the next 2 hours! I suppose Ade's defence will be to point to the over enthusiastic hasher who led the pack off the trail down a steep muddy hill shouting on-on every time he saw lichen on the trees. Now we could forgive this if it was one our new hashers - but (unusually) the FRB at this stage was Mr M. Gilbey - who really should know better! Eventually we realised that we hadn't seen the hare for about 20 minutes and slogged back up the hill to hear load shouts of "on-back" from a worried looking Ade. At this stage we lost Audry and Robert Green - the sensible ones who didn't follow Mikes Excursions - only to be found back in the pub 90 minutes later. As usual the moaning started at around 9.00 and we didn't believe Ade when he told us there was another 4 miles to go - we'll never doubt your word again Ade! Eventually a strung out pack of exhausted and thirsty hashers slogged our way through the muddy horse fields and saw the welcoming lights of the pub - yes, they were still open….just! The beer tasted even better than usual as Roger organised an impromptu pub quiz on our table. Audry surprised us all with her knowledge of the periodic table and apparently Natasha's "birth element" is Selenium! (Ask Roger to explain - he lost me!) EDITORS NOTE:- This has nothing to do with the runs report - but I just read this about Selenium and thought it was interesting! :- Selenium tablets substantially reduce the risk of cancer and are a potent antioxidant and together with Vitamins A, C and E provide a defence against the free radicals that are believed to be a contributing factor to many diseases. Not only is Selenium essential for healthy immune functioning, but numerous studies have demonstrated that it reduces the risk of many forms cancer - including breast and prostrate cancer. Selenium has also induced "apoptosis" - a programmed cell-death of cancer cells. Many other health benefits are reported- from decreased rates of fatal heart attacks, enhancement of the immune system and protection against the symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis. - You can buy them at www.health4all.co.uk and No - I don't have any share in the site! |
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Run
The White Horse - Hedgerley Brass Monkeys would have felt right at home on the evening we band of brave and intrepid hashers set off from the White Lion. Now, it's almost a tradition from this pub to set off up the long footpath by the pub (as it's a nasty hill) - so hare Phil took us due south down the road and we were all lost to begin with. We soon turned off the road with the GM and I going slightly in the wrong direction so we missed the (obvious) door in the fence. The GM's dog also missed the door and promptly got lost resulting in the GM, along with Mrs GM having to go in search for her - and we didn't see them again for the entire Hash! Mrs GM claimed that they followed us round the complete trail, hearing us but not catching up. And, if she says that, who are we not to believe them and assume they went straight back to the (warm) pub? I don't even know what made me think of saying that! Soon we turned around and headed west towards Egypt. The geographers among you might think that Egypt is east of Hedgerley but it isn't (look on the map if you don't believe me). This is possibly something to do with the quaint naming traditions of the Park Rangers in Burnham Beeches, but possibly not. The Park Rangers seem to act more like the Lone Ranger - and try to capture defenceless Hashers who have the temerity to run across their open access forest and parkland without either their permission or buying their sawdust (Yes they do sell it). Hair Phil has been caught by them numerous times in the past and is now on their "Most Unwanted" list. So, we ran around the forest tracks at the northern end of the Beeches for a while - finding lots of mud to run through, over and in. Ade (the Moose) made an excellent first attempt at clinching next year's Moose award by diving headlong into one of the muddiest patches - presumably to check the quality of the mud from a closer viewpoint. Then we had a lady's check, which Ade Jeff and Roger all tried to check out. Having run around a maze of trails in the Beeches, we turned left yet again and headed back in an easterly direction towards the pub. Over the Farnham Road and, instead of carrying on straight back to the pub for a drink like sensible hashers, we turned North. Jeff was heard muttering and asking which direction the pub was in (not that he ever short cuts back!). There was a general upwelling of we're "Missing valuable drinking time" moans. Eventually the FRBs struck out across a new field scattering in all directions as there was no tral. Finally the path was found and almost immediately came the welcome cry of "On In" and we headed pubwards with the warm glow that comes with completing another hash. (Some say it's more like banging your head against a tree - it's a relief when you eventually stop) To top it all, the beer was amongst the very best we have ever had - and we were all entertained by Hare Phil discovering he had locked his keys in his boot - so he had to get his wife to come out and rescue him. |
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from The Old Swan, Swan Bottom Date 11th December 2001 Hare Gerry No of Hounds 17 + 1 dog Scribe Mick Jones
Starry
Starry Night Part 1
Anyway, Barney and I came to the conclusion that someone had altered the name of Swan Bottom and that, given later events, it was really Swamp Bottom and hence the pub was The Old Swamp. Given the doubts over the name of both pub and location, I eventually found the Old Swamp on a map entitled Pubs you never knew existed in the far flung corners of Bucks. The sky was, per the title
of this humble piece, full of stars which, whilst a wonderfull sight The run, already disclosed by Gerry as being 4.7 miles with only two hills but a shade muddy, commenced. Soon a field hove into view. I had always been told that the largest field in England was onePortholme Meadow near Huntingdon, Wrong - this was much bigger. In fact if O.b.L.. had chosento hide in this field, the Yanks would never find him. Gerry said there was a check halfway across but, in the muck and bullets, it seemed to have dissapeared. We motored on through woods along tracks which were (guess what) muddy. Mike Barnard made a play for the Moose Award by inspecting the ground very closely but, as his nosedive was not seen by many and probably lacked the sheer artistic merit usually conjured up by Ade, he probably won't get it. On on. More woods (muddy), more fields (muddy) and the occasional deserted road thrown in for good luck. Flossie , as usual, took the long way round being frequently seen in the middle distance whilst our knitting circle plodded along at the back giving it plenty of bunny as usual. When we came to the third hill, I asked Gerry to confirm that there were only two hills on the run which he of course did. Another feature of the run were the stiles of which there were plenty, most of them busted and one of which took a liking to my lower regions. Eventually, after another perambulation through Shiggy Woods, we emerged battered but unbowed at the hostelry. Thanks Gerry, hill counter coming for Xmas. |
| Run from Green Man
FlackwelHeath Date 3 Dec Hare Mick Jones No of Hounds 17 + 2 dogs Scribe Mike Gilby Once again we started Jones'y hash with the promise of it being short and sweet but like all good company directors he was economical with the truth. Across the Flackwell Heath golf course the trail disappeared and the pack ran about like demented chickens until one hasher found the miniscule blob of flour. Jones'y had purchased good old Tesco cheap flour at 9p a bag and judging by the size of the blobs and the check circles throughout the hash probably just one 250 gram bag. The trail took down to the side of the M40 past the Falcon, no free sandwiches here today, and the new housing development of Glory Mill being built by Taywood Homes, I think, with under sized rabbit hutches selling for over sized prices and then into the seedy council estate of Glory Mill. Jones'y warned us about the undesirable residents of the area so we ran forward with caution but fortunately we so no unsavoury characters, they were all in doors listening to either heavy metal or rap! Then trail then took a wide sweep up,out and above Wooburn Green and once again the itinerant Flossie ran off into the decaying corn fields looking for non-existent pheasant. Down to the main road the trail then turned right crossing the old railway line then up and up and again up to the back end off Flackwell Heath. It is about time Wycombe DC got their act together and re-built this railway into a tramway instead of prattling about trying to rebuild Handy Cross and bring Wycombe into the 21st century. Jones'y had laid the trail through the back streets of Flackwell Heath with a dearth of markers some of the pack went the long way whilst a few wily old buzzards followed Tracy, who had local knowledge, along a number of shortcuts.
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from The Yew Tree Freith Date 30th October 2001 Hare Matt & Gerry Green No of Hounds 20 + 2 dogs Scribe Rob Green
It was the night before Halloween and a gaggle of ghoulish hounds gathered in the car park, baying at the thought of blood err mud. Some dressed up, others didn't need to before long it was time to go. It wasn't long until the
hounds got their first blood, a devilishly deep muddy section said
to contain the lost souls of Freith. On - On and On we went with the
FRBs doing extra soulless loops when Roger caught site of something
white and moving through the trees possible another sighting of the
White Wolf of Cadmore end said to feed off the blood of lost runners,
be warned!! Then, through the woods a hairy, fearsome creature was seen, it was Mike Gilby looking for a lost Flossie, if the heartache of the extra miles wasn't enough, he won the Golden Moose award for the best fall. After a weary 6 miles the welcome site of Gerry with hot mulled wine was likened to the vampire sucking on a naked virgin's neck!! (I must stop reading those top shelf magazines!!) As this will be the only run with Matt & Gerry will set, we will wish Matt all the best for the future.
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| Run from : The Lambert
Arms Aston Rowant Date : 23rd October 2001 Hare : Robert Green No of Hounds : Countless + 1 dog Scribe : Barney It was a dark and damp evening as a multitude of dubious hashers prepared themselves at the foot of the Chiltern Escarpment for one of Roberto's, (he of marriage chariot fame), wondrous and overwhelming hashes. Wondrous because goodness knows how we ever found our way along the trail and overwhelming because of the depths of the floodwaters and the height of the escarpment. The trail was set in loo paper, a fashionable shade of peach, and it was clear right from the start that the hare was going to give directions as he announced that we were to regroup at the school. So without further ado the trail was checked out and finally the hare called the way onto the quaint but uninspiring, Oxfordshire village of Lewknor. Once well known for an honest car dealer whose story was told to me in the fables of my grandfather. Having regrouped at the school the hare directs us through the churchyard, farmyard and over the stile to a meadow pretending to be a swamp and more fit for fresh water fish than hashers. The trail frequents several watery meadows and in true hashing style we wallow about trying to locate the trail to the next meadow and find that all-important piece of peach loo paper. You think that's fun, well there is more to come. Having completed a loop of the swampy countryside we emerge back at the school in lovely Lewknor. The more experienced hashers in the pack began to recognise the trend of Roberto's trail and clearly having dealt with the swamp the next part of the trail could only be the escarpment, we were not to be disappointed. The trail ran out of Lewknor
up Hill Lane, traversing the busy M40 via a tunnel (The Ridgeway Path)
and yes, into the nature reserve where the only way is up, and I mean
up - 200 feet almost vertically, straining every muscle and stretching
the leg tendons to the ultimate limits. Despite all this the view
from the top is superb, the M40 motorway looks like a silver river
of light with the cars looking like ants and the juggernauts like
beetles as they slowly wind their way from Oxfordshire through the
Stokenchurch Cutting. Where the trail met the A40 at the base of the Stokenchurch Hill it was "on in" back to the Lambert Arms to cries of, "At least it didnt rain".
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| Run from The Elephant
& Castle - Old Amersham Date 16th October 2001 Hare Barney No. of hounds 20 + 2 dogs Scribe Robert It was a dry Tuesday night (for a change) and chilly but some hardy hashers wore shorts. (They did not know about the nettles). The hare(Barney) set us off up Cherry Lane then the trail turned right and took the footpath (through the stinging nettles) across the fields to Sharleloes where we crossed over and under various bits of dual carriageway before passing some floodlit football training pitches which illuminated the whole valley. in fact this was one of the most well lit winter hashes and torches were hardly needed. A long climb uphill to Amersham On the Hill was rewarded with a jog past some of the posh properties and a trot down the High Street to look in the boutique windows. Turning off into the housing estates, with moans from the pack we were going to Chalfont St Giles, Barney led us for what seemed like miles down the road to the Chalfonts before wending our way back over White Lion Road Allotments to the fields behind the Amersham & Wycombe College. The On In was down the hill and through Tesco’s car park to the Old Town. A good run.
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Run
from Car Park Great Missenden
Robert set the run on Sunday. It rained on Sunday. It rained even harder on Monday. Guess what happened on Tuesday? Yes - it rained. Now, Rain + flour = one washed out trail that nobody could find. Still were we downhearted. Well, yes as it happens we were, but at least it had stopped raining by the time the run started, so we cheered up. Then we ran up - and up and yet more up. We couldn't find the (by now non-existent) flour, but we tried anyway - and at least Hare Robert knew where we were and where we were going (Well actually he didn't for some of the run - but being lost was good fun anyway). Half way round Rob Green gave a splendid demonstration of (just) keeping his balance when he ran full tilt into a duckpond that he had not seen. The splash was impressive! Overheard on the way around:- A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet. "My dog's cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?" "Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him" So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally, he says "I'm going to have to put him down." "What? Because he's cross-eyed?" "No, because he's really heavy" And another for the intellectuals amongst us:- How many quantum physicists
does it take to screw in a light bulb? - But, back to the run and the mud. Having caught up with the pack after three of us got lost, the Hare decided he was lost as well. So he looked at the map and decided he was very lost. He asked us to find a style - which we did. But meanly he told us it was the wrong style. Eventually we found another style - and it looked as if it had flour on it. Unfortunately it must have been from another hash! And we were still lost. Fortunately, it was pointed out that we were just by the South Heath Village sign. So it was a quick run to the crossroads, followed by a mile or so long "On-In". Fortunately most of it was down hill. Back at the car park we met two hashers who hadn't been with us - they said they arrived a little late and went for a long run anyway - but we think they just arrived a lot late and spent the time chatting in the car park. The beer in the pub was great and we met two ladies in the pub who said they would run with us next week. Nice One Robert. |
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Run from The Prince
Albert Near Frieth
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 Photo courtesy Audrey |
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We should have stayed at home, after all it was a 'Sam run' the only thing that made us venture out was the fact that it wasn't raining and we were supposed to collecting our CHOCOLATES FROM ROGER! It started off as well as could be expected, not much scenery though due to the fact that it was pitch black. However we were running on familiar territory. Sam took us up past his house & naturally we thought it was an early beer stop... (No such luck) all he wanted to do was show us his son and his vegetable patch! Along a footpath down a hill and up the other side again, this kind of pattern went on for a couple of miles. We regrouped & it was here he asked us all "did we want to take the short route or the long route" Tracey & I don't even need to be asked stupid questions like that it's the long route for us every time! Anyway we decided to keep a few of the others company on the shorter route, which incidentally was a half marathon... (But that's Sam's idea of a short route) We did actually get lost in the woods at one point even though Mike did have the map, but once we turned it around the right way we were back on track again. The others, we heard, once we had got back to the pub had done the full marathon (this being the long route that Sam had talked about earlier.) Sam we are not all in training for the London to Brighton run or whatever it is you are mad enough to be doing!!!
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Run from The Fox @ Ibstone Date 18th Sept 2001 Hares Audrey & Tracey No. of hounds - 8 Scribe Gerry It was a wild night. The weather was wild, the sky was wild and (soon) the Hashers were wild as well. The first mistake (apart from setting off at all) was at the first check - which nobody noticed and, as a result, everyone ran the wrong way through it. We were called back. The second mistake was the second check. The hares sent us the wrong way, but this time they did not call us back - they explained this by saying they were lost, (and had been when they set the trail). After that things started to go down hill. Literally as well as figuratively. Because the hares had lost the trail, Tracey decided that if we ran on aimlessly downhill for a while we might eventually re-find it. We were still only 200 yards from the pub and could have gone back - but the trail was called "on on". Years later everyone except Sam was hopelessly lost and beginning to think of the loved ones they had left behind. And, even though Sam wasn't lost, he didn't know the way to go, as the hares didn't know where we were meant to be. Eventually we found a place that Tracey said she recognised - so we were back on the trail. Unfortunately, it turned out, we were back on the trail but going the wrong way around it. I don't know if anyone has ever tried to run a trail backwards before, but the first thing you notice is that although the checks are marked (in theory, if not on this actual hash) the trail isn't marked until you get to the next check. So we couldn't find the trail. Then there was the hills - all five of them. Then there were the paths, tracks and fields inundated with what I will describe as runny cow silage! Then there was the fact that the run was virtually 6 miles - even without checking! Not that I am complaining (Oh all right, I am). Then, when we arrived back at the pub to discover that Tracey & Audrey are trying to organise the Christmas Dinner - but only, I expect, if they can find their way to the restaurant! Perhaps we can eat our meal backwards as well? The Hashing spirit lives on!
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| Run from Red Lion
- Great Kingshill Date 11 September 2001 Hare Roger No. of hounds - 18 (ish) Scribe Gerry In true hashing tradition the pub we were meant to set off from wasn't a pub at all - but a fish restaurant - however we will forgive the hare as the fish restaurant did have a pub sign outside it. So we all drove off to the nearest car park. Before we set of,f we spotted that Audrey had a disgustingly health tan and we were all insanely jealous. Still she has to co-set the run next week and we will see if the rain washes her tan off. Anyway, the area is a notable one as, unusually, it is actually possible (in fact easy) to set a totally flat run from there. Provided of course that you don't head down the only slope in the area. Any guesses what happened next? Well the slope was not just steep but long and steep - so we knew we had a long and steep uphill drag to come later. The hash trundled on across some pleasant country on a pleasant late-summer evening and only worry was the uphill to come. That is until we were most of the way out and Roger told us there were two ways back. A long way, and an even longer way. Being shattered I (and several others) opted for the lesser evil - only to be besieged by Tracey who nagged, cajoled and pestered us (but not her) to go the long way. Actually that is not quite true - she neither cajoled or pestered - she just nagged! Unable to bear the din, most of us went the long way, without the hare but with a map. Sam, the map keeper, first looked at the map one way up, then turned it through 180 degrees and looked at it again, then scratched his head. Perhaps we should have taken his map reading skills into account. We didn't. As a result we entirely missed a footpath and sailed on for an extra third of a mile - and then had to turn around and run another third of a mile back. Eventually we neared the end of the run - but entirely lost the trail again (not that I am casting nasty aspersions on Sam's map reading, but conventionally North goes up the page!). After casting about for a while we set off in the most likely direction and, a few minutes later heard the hallooing of the hare - so either he was lost as well or we were back on trail. Then, not wishing to mention any names two hashers (Phil and Rob) short cut back to the pub. But still, there was a happy ending - you may remember that Tracey had nagged us all to take the long trail while she took the short path. Well, she had left her car keys in the car of one of the hashers she nagged into taking the long trail - so she had to wait shivering in the car park until we all got back. Life can be very just sometimes.
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Run The Old Queens
Head - Tylers Green It was a really good run - I especially remember it was dark. yes, it was very dark!
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Run The Bounty @
Bourne End RUN 555!! Well then, run 555 eh. Although confusion often
reigns during a hash, this is the first time I have witnessed a total
cock up before we have even got going !!! Does we does or does we
don't put any cash in the parking machine in Bourne End ? Mike Gilby
was gaily doling out " hash cash" with gay (Editors Note
- Gay was Mick's word, not mine!) abandon, something you don't see
very often. So along the towpath we went and up to Spade Oak. We've got to be going past the lake I thought and, amazingly, we were. Said lake was visited briefly from various angles but these were all falsies naturally. Back along the track we went to emerge on the Bourne End/Marlow road. A lope along this was followed by a sally into open country where more confusion spread with most of the pack going straight on whilst Gerry emitted the faintest of "On On's" as he took a totally unexpected left turn. Back down the road we went to eventually end up in true hashing fashion almost exactly where we were 10 minutes earlier. This run had more "On Backs" than ever seen before to the point where the poor FRB's felt like they were going round in circles !!! Little Marlow was visited
with various comments being passed as we ran past Scary Spice's pad Eventually the river hove
into view followed by a perfectly healthy and well enjoyed chip stop. Back along the towpath
(slowly after 2 bags of chips) and on in to the car park, the boozer
being
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| Run Jolly
Farmer @ Chalfont St Peter Date 14th August 2001 Hare Ade No. of hounds about 20 including 5 (possibly more) walkers and a horde of offspring and a dog Scribe Gerry To lesser mortals than Hashers, the fact that the Hare decided not to run with us, but to go with the walkers, might have rung warning bells. So might the fact that he told us that the trail started by going down the side of the pub, when it actually went past the pub for 50 yards before turning. But we were brave Hashers and we felt no fear. We did, however feel the heat. (It seemed like it was 90 degrees in the shade, and there wasn't any shade). It was a long hard hash - with lots of re-grouping for the walking wounded (well the slowly trotting wounded anyway). Oh all right, if you must be accurate, the slowly trotting perspiring.
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There was loads of flour - which was good. It didn't follow the path the Hare had marked out for us on the map - which was less good, but we found it anyway. We ran past Ozzy Osbourne's mansion - not that this is relevant except that the Hare was mistaken for him in the pub a few days before and I re-listened to Paranoid for the first time in decades and realised how good it was. (Aside:- There must be a pun there somewhere about their song Iron Man and the fact that Sam used to enter Iron Men contests, but I couldn't work it out - answers on a postcard please.) The run got longer and longer and the last hundred or so miles (well actually a few hundred yards, but we were tired) was through impenetrable forest (Oh, all right, down a wooded path) in pitch darkness. I guess it's torches next week. Then it was on-on along the road until we met the walkers 50 yards from a Pimms stop. I should have mentioned earlier that it was the Hare's Midsummer's day hash (hence the Pimms stop). The fact that it was August 14th can possible explained by the similarity between the Hare and Ozzy. The Pimms was excellent, refreshing, and just what we needed before a fast half mile back to the pub. |
 Ozzy - a dead ringer for Ade |
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The Palmer Arms Booker Date 2nd August 2001 Hare Gerry No. of hounds about 20 (ish) plus various young family and non-running spouses. Scribe Robert This is more of a thank you to Gerry and Rose than a run report since the annual Palmer Barbecue formed the main attraction of the evening. However, that should not be allowed to detract from the run itself which it has to be said had not looked promising (due to the heavy showers that had been holding off all day and which decided to reach the Chilterns at 6.00. p.m). The pack gathered in the
Palmer residence and the quasi-dinner jacketed Hare stood us in the
rain to set out the rules then it was off down Fernie Fields and "On
On" over Booker Common towards the M40 crossing the bridge at
The hare reported having seen Muntjack deer in these fields on his morning runs. Gerry demonstrated his new "water bottle" trail marking gadget which looks like being adopted by many of the hash as it avoids the snowman effect when marking the route. We echoed "On On"
through a farm tunnel under the M.40 and back across Booker Common
past the Squirrel P.H. At this point the FRB's decided to accept Jerry's
challenge of an extra mile and a half of running and set off led by
Sam (subsequently it turned out they missed the proper trail and had
to invent their own route). The rest of the pack trotted back down
Fernie Thanks to Gerry and Rose for the huge spread of food and copious supplies of alcohol were waiting with hot potatoes and the Barbecue for the runners and their families a great end to a fine run. |
| Run T he Frog @ Skirmett Date 10th June 2001 Hare Mike & Gill No. of hounds about 18 plus several walkers, children and a few dogs Scribe Gerry In the height of summer, with no rain for weeks and weeks and with arid conditions breaking out all over the country, this was the wettest and yuckiest, run for a long time. But more of that later. We started off by running in totally the wrong direction (a mistake I was to repeat several times). This was 'cos it had been called wrong but the hare (feeling mean) didn't call the pack back very quickly. Eventually we set off in the right direction - and two checks later we got to the base of a hill known locally as the "Matterhorn". Up we plodded - except for two people who hadn't run much with us before - who stormed up. Naturally, when they arrived at the top they found a "Gerry-type" arrow - and had to run all the way back to the end of the pack, and then back up the hill yet again! Not content with storming up the hill the first time, they stormed up it a second time and were actually first up to the top! Phew! Talk about being fit. Then, as usual, we went over a few more little hills and fields until we saw the windmill (of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang fame) looming at the top of yet another mountain. And up we started- fortunately it was a false trail and we came back down again without going too far. Now, the hare had told us that there was only one false trail on the hash. So, when I checked up a hill a little later, and found the trail, I assumed I was going in the right direction. ¼ of a gruelling mile later I discovered that he had lied and there were two false trails (I wonder, do falsies always come in pairs?). Then we arrived at one end of Watery Lane - which used to be a road but is now a cross between a path, a cesspit and a river - and yes, we had to run all the way along it - and it was under water all the way! (well, actually some of it was under cess). With everything below the waist drenched, smelly and sodden we got back to the pub. Still, the beer was good. |
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Run
The Old Ship @ Cadmore End
Thanks again Sam. |
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Swan @ Ley Hill Date 17th June 2001 Hare Roger No. of hounds about 20 including Scribe Gerry It was a "God Save the Queen" hash Well, you know the bit where it says "Long may she reign over us" - well she certainly did on this hash - or if not her, it must have been someone else as we got absolutely, totally, Titanic-sinkingly drenched, wet, soaked, sodden and tiddled upon. It was the third wettest hash I have ever been on - and in one of the others we had to swim across a river. No, my mistake, it was the second wettest - when we swam across the river I carried my pumps above the water. On this hash even they were saturated. We started off waiting in our cars until the last possible moment, just in-case the deluge stopped - or at least quietened down to monsoon proportions. It didn't, so we got out and huddled under a tree. Then we set off for the swim - err, sorry ,hash. Geoff ran around with an umbrella - so he got several brownie points for style, but lost them all again for not having the sense to come in out of the rain in the first place. Hare Roger kept us all on trail - which was a good thing as most of the flour had understandably washed away. We ran around several places - all of them wet. We only got lost once - and that was only for long enough to run through a massive muddy squelchy bit, then turn round and run back through it again to find the right path. At one point I had to check down a "footpath" that had a torrent big enough to canoe down. Eventually, soaked and sodden, we got close enough to the pub to know where we were - and we could see the roof of the pub next to the one we were hashing from. Home was nearly in sight and our damp spirits rose. Naturally we set off again in the totally wrong direction! (Thanks for that Roger!). A few part-time hashers, including the GM, short-cut and went straight to the pub - (in fact he tried to lead a mass revolt back - so yes, you heard it here first - the GM is officially revolting). So it was on-on around a few more wet bits before going back to the on-in where, miracle upon miracle, it stopped raining while we changed. (Only to revert to form and deluge upon us when we left the pub in our nice dry clothes). I had been on a SCUBA hash before. The beer was magnificent. |
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White Swan @ Denham 10th June 2001 Hare Geoff Calloway No. of hounds about 20 including 2 walkers and a piece of plasterboard carried around by the hare Scribe Gerry A truly excellent run in the best traditions of hashing - ie mud up to you thighs (literally), loosing half the pack (several times), sending people off in all directions, horrendous misdirection, changing the trail as we went, general mayhem and a champagne stop. Most of us had never seen all of the numerous lakes around the back of Denham before - let alone run through them. But I get ahead of myself (which was more than I managed on the run). The hash was marked in a novel combination of flour (a little), plasterboard used as chalk and bits of plastic. We were advised to watch out for one of the bar checks as it was very unpleasant if we missed it. We did, it was (it was the bit with putrid, stinking slurpy mud that actually did make me sink to half way up my thighs that I mentioned earlier - and possibly will do so again). Soon after we started, we ran along a hedge for about 1/3 mile, then turned and ran right back along the other side of it - where we met the hare gently sauntering along in the wrong direction telling us to carry on. Another 1/3 of a mile and then straight back (again!!!) to 25 yards from where we had just come from. I won't mention Jill by name, but someone was seen shortcutting by climbing over a fence to cut out a great loop. Then it was on to a lock gate where we tried to regroup and find people (and people came from several directions over the next 10 minutes or so). Next, climbing along the slippery lock gate we ran over a field to a place where a few of us were told to go ahead and change the arrows (we never did work out why). However, we never saw the rest of the pack again. Several miles and lost trails later we ran along the side of the canal, and saw a bar check off to the left. So, we didn't go down it. This was a pity as the trail was actually over the bar. Eventually we turned back and went through the bar - but only after an extra mile or so of hard running!!! We found the trail through a wood - but didn't spot the (by then non-existent) bar that we had been told not to cross. So on we went (through the multiple cesspits of yuck I mentioned earlier), still following the flour - but apparently not the trail. The "trail" suddenly died out half way across a field in the middle of nowhere. Much confusion and doubling back later (though we never did find the right route), through a housing estate, we ran into the station car park and found the rest of the pack. It was Geoff (the hare's) 50 something birthday so we had bubbles. It was also the day after Audrey's 40th so she had to run back to the pub with balloons. Back in the pub we presented Audrey with a card and Geoff with a down-down for having the temerity to have a birthday. |