Rehash courtesy of Master Baster:
It was a lovely overcast afternoon as Butt Floss, Spike and I headed up through the vibrant metropolis of Fabius, on the way to enjoy the OnOnDoga H3’s 10th trail ever. Not a minute had passed before one of the two dozen assembled wankers trotted over and foisted blue jello shots upon us. What hashpitality!
We signed in with Tough Knees, said some hellos, and eventually started gathering ’round. Kickstand had recruited two unwitting–well, half-witting–wankers for trail: Testicular Engineer and Just Greg for the adventure.
As chalk talk dragged on, we soon realized that we were in for a short-bus-special treat. Several of them. X was a FALSE TRAIL. But except when it wasn’t, and X was a CHECK instead. Okay then. HS was Song Check, HV was Hash View, DC was Deer Check (stop in this deer bed)… and I’m pretty sure there were a couple marks written in Sanskrit. But at least BN was finally written out.
With this ominous portent, off we went! Checking around the parking lot, we eventually sniffed out true trail and proceeded Westwards through the woods, over a creek, and up a hill. At several points when the pack was lost, the chief hare could be heard offering “advice” to possible locations for flour marks — very helpful for those unable to discern marking from the recent snowfall, or if there were indeed any marks at all!
Moment of Stupidity #1 comes at a downhill, wherein there is a Y marked at the end. Left is false. Right has one mark before petering out. Aha! There was supposed to be an R2, but, silly hares, they either forgot to set it or it was eaten by weevils. Thanks for the help, Kicky!
We then were treated to a glorious mess in an enormous hemlock-and-cedar woodlot, criss-crossed by access roads like a checkerboard, enmeshed in shiggy and runoff trenches, filled with checks and falses — each marked with X to make sure we never got very far, very fast. We approached a lean-to about halfway into it, and took up with Oh, I used to work in Chicago, at the old department store… upon finding a Song Check.
At the end of it, yours truly bopped down past an X (checking!) and found a nice big cock made of flour, complete with two granite balls. As I marveled at the artwork, Floss came up behind me (eek!), took a look at the check, and waved his wonder wangle at the approaching pack.
Thanking Gispert for my lack of exposure, I followed the FRB’s down the forest lane and joined them at the next check, this time at a confluence of roads. Desiring not the boring gravel, I followed a deer trail into a boreal bog, hopping over mossy boardwalk and onto some old wooden bridges before rejoining the pack at …wait, is it? After only 2.5 miles?
BN! Yes! BN at the old forest service yard! As we popped open Genny 12 Horse Ales and PBR, a round of song came up courtesy of SOH’s newly-appointed Songmattress (Professor Crash Pants?) and we joined in on a few choruses of the S&M Man, before the pack broke down in uncontrollable laughter after about 6 verses.
With a snowfall threatening our chances at following trail, we decided to pack up and head (who…?) out to find trail.Trail soon pointed ENE up the hill, and we followed Ass Full of White Man up to see where we’d go. The pack was struck by the stark contrast of the green underbrush, the straight-standing cedar & red spruce trees, all plastered with the previous nights’ snowfall from 8 foot high on up –it was truly a rare sight. But wait! Ass Full is waiting! With a couple other folks! Boy, I could catch my breath too… because we’re not gonna enjoy an R6 alone.
On-down we went to a chuckling Kickstand and Tough Knees, who were sharing a chuckle at our misfortune. Trail continued into the shiggy, over treefall and around puddles, to the DN in the middle of the woods. The trail turned gradually northwards, and we were amazed at the contrast between the earlier lack of contiguously-marked trail and the relative ease of trail-spotting that we now enjoyed. Hmm!
We realized we were on-down the hill and getting into a clearing when we joined back up with a service road and spied some cabins nearby. A pond, a dike, a pump-house, and 2 Boy Scout leaders (no joke) greeted the pack, and we assured the Scout Leaders that they were more of a threat to us than we were to then.
Once they left — BN! BN! Huzzah! And so we quenched our well-earned thirst once more. Over the hill and on-in we soon were, to punish those who were well-deserving.
Kickstand drank with his hares for their extreme economy in flour use. We summoned 4! 4 Virgins! (Ah ah ah ah ahhhh) …into circle since it was their first time. We removed a hat from the single lady’s head, since there’s no headgear in circle, and watched Moo-Shoo the dog amble over and puke into it a mixture of grass, flour, and horseshit.
Order was restored several minutes later.
Additional down-downs include a 40th birthday practice, a Highlander in circle, travelers from faraway lands, those who left things in Teat Tease’s car from the Halloween debacle of last week, new shoes, and the hares since they really need work on using a set of consistent, non-confusing marks.
Yours always in good shiggy and beer,
—///—>
Master Baster
RA, Ithaca H3
Hash Stats: 27 hashers (3 virgins)
Hares: Kickstand, Just Greg, Testicular Engineer
