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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 200220 |