"You won't need your torch this evening." said Barney - twirling the ghost of his moustache as I pulled on my shoes in the car park of the Cherry Tree. Bowing to his years of hashing experience and allowing for my years of gullibility, I put my torch back in the car and so began my first torch free hash of the year.
Firstly Jane showed off her contours, which certainly looked impressive to me. Then she told us that Tuesday was the chef's night off so there'd be no chips which immediately slowed the pace of the hash down by about twenty minutes.
Off we set, heading right out of the car park, round that bend in the Straight Bit (yes I know I've done that joke in a trash before but no one will notice... actually they probably won't even notice it's a joke this time) (Ed's aside: see Sooper's write-up on 30 12 2008) before turning left into Chapel Road - familiar to many as that point on the Wycombe Half Marathon when you realise that it's not going to be any easier this year.
At the bottom of the road we turned left by the Scout hut and down the steep ridge that is Sheepridge and out onto the newly laid footpaths along the lane.
We gathered outside the Crooked Billet, which as all locals know is so called because it used to be an unscrupulous bed and breakfast used by bodgers. Apparently we once did a run from there which coincided with a singles' night, but none of them were so single that they'd hook up with anyone after a hash.
Anyway, it was up the footpath at the side of the side and across the field into Warren's Wood. On up through the wood past the old earthworks that had frankly not changed at all since the other week when we ran past them - that's medieval builders for you.
A quick dash down Winchbottom Lane and a right up into Horton's Wood. We had the usual tales of the time the owner of the wood appeared with a shotgun. The only time I've met him he was very friendly - mind you he was carrying a chainsaw.
At the other side of the woods Ade was heading off to try and play Frogger (kids still play Frogger these days right?) across the A404 whilst the rest of us stood by with our phones hoping to capture a YouTube classic. The hares called him back though before he had a chance to get too far - spoilsports.
Off we went down the hill and left across the field which I see from the map is called Merton's Hole....nope, not much scope for any puns there. Back over Winchbottom (see how restrained I'm being this time) and across the field down to Little Marlow road. I did consider just nipping home at this point but since we were all having fun, and the fact I only have one pair of shoes, I joined everyone in a jog in along the road before taking a left up into Fern Lane. On the map here it says 'Pit (disused)'... but that's just a pit isn't it? Anyway we didn't even see it so we can save that semantic debate till we're down the pub. Which is probably where we are unless something's gone very wrong.
At the end of Fern Lane we turned right into the field to see the hill back up to Flackwell rising before us in the East like Mount Fuji only a bit duller. I suppose this is one advantage of hashing in the dark - you can't see the nasty hills coming. Still I suppose Jane had warned us there'd be hills; I'd just not paid attention to scale.
Anyway - it was back over Sheepridge and we skirted around the bottom of the big nasty hill. As we had a regroup dusk was beginning to fall and I began to doubt Barney's wisdom (I know, I know), before realising that of course he'd back comfortably back at the pub half an hour ago so it was my own stupid fault if I wasn't back before it got dark.
I needn't have worried though. We were soon back in civilisation, or at least in Flackwell, with the scent of beer in our nostrils, unless you were running behind me in which case it was probably a different odour (I did think long and hard who to make that joke about but I couldn't choose between you all).
A quick dash up an alleyway and we emerged back on that bend on the Straight Bit (no, it was paragraphs ago we'll get away with it) and on in to the pub.
I made it a little over seven and half miles, and even with those hills it was still a very enjoyable hash which can only mean our hares did a great job. Thanks.