RIVIERA HASH TRASH 647
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Trail des Alpes Maritimes, 19th September 2010.
Nice-Cannes marathon 14th November 2010.
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Dear Sir or Madam,
I am writing to you as I believe you may have inadvertently, received, one of our reports, regarding the hardships facing dogs, on the French Riviera.
We recently received, in our office, something call a, "Run Report", to be included in our Tash editorial.
As we could not understand, or make sense of any of the content we assume it must be a draft copy.
However, would you mind forwarding the "Doggie", piece to the following address; www.k9magazine.com
Thank you in anticipation
During a recent Hash, whilst nominating Perpetual motion for a Down Down, Dirty Dingus, whilst referring to Perpetual Motion, intimated he received his name because he acts like the non stop Duracell Bunny.
As the Religious Advisor at the time and thus responsible for giving him his name, I would like to clarify the situation.
The real reason he has his name...........
Whilst attempting a Down Down, the normally. reserved Perpetual Motion became excessively competitive and glugged his ale with such rapidity it went into his mouth, to the back of his throat, up his nasal passage from whence it then descended, returning once more into his beer mug.
Hence; PERPETUAL MOTION.
Prestressed and Padre (with more than a little help from Oliv(i)er) gathered the hash together in Montauroux on this balmy September afternoon to present a virgin hash terrain. All right, it might not have been totally virgin, but you just can’t get real ones any more, can you?
By some miracle, a full and feisty pack of around 30 made it on time (except for those that didn’t – more of them later) to the start in the local Stade. I say that it was a miracle because although the directions were perfect, I swear that the Stade was closer to Grenoble than Montauroux....but maybe I just drove the long way round.
As Padre was co hare, the hash started on time at 2pm. Walkers counted many familiar faces and a few returners, together with 3 over-excited kids and they went one way. Runners went in the opposite direction. It took all of 3 seconds to realise that this was just a sneaky ruse to try to twist ankles and draw blood in rocky, thorny undergrowth as Padre has missed being a hare for too long.
Fortunately, the detour was not very long and simply took the scenic route round the Stade to give the walkers time for a head start. It also had the virtue of allowing the disgracefully late Perpetch to park his bike and catch up with the pack. His penalty for gross misconduct was to run the hash with his backpack – presumably laden with 30kg of stones to give extra misery.
It seems that the detour round the Stade separated the men from the Iron ladies. Padre shepherded runners along the trail but was concerned that said Kiwi/Swiss/French hasher had got lost. Never mind, he carried on after a reasonable wait of 10 seconds, sure that she would catch up.
Up ahead, the going got decidedly unfriendly. The hares had laid a circle by a water tank surrounded by supposedly electric wire. Unfortunately, nobody could find trail and even more unfortunately nobody was electrocuted. After having their fun for a while, the hares pointed the pack up a falsie that Sud Sucker had just checked, with the words of wisdom “think laterally”. We did so and still there was no joy until Padre let us into a secret; the trail went off on a tangent from the falsie but with no markings. Knowing that this was absolutely against hash protocol, Padre did the decent thing and blamed Prestressed for bad etiquette!
The marketing for this hash had promised swimming, waterfalls and general aqua based merriment. At this moment it dawned on the pack that we had a problem. We were on top of a ravine and the only place water could be was down at the bottom. Gulp! The question was therefore not if, but when the hash would descend said ravine. Thanks to Dingus running a falsie we postponed the inevitable for a while and instead regrouped to admire the beautiful village of St Cézaire on the other side of the valley.
After the interlude, the going got very tough for anyone who cared about not breaking bones. This seems to have been everyone except Padre, who bounded down the trail like the mountain goat he is. The further down we went, the steeper and shiggier it got, with lots of loose rocks providing ample opportunity to fall over (Jobsworth). Finally, we reached the bottom but in several groups. After this, it was time for an easy canter along the river bank to the beer stop.
Normally, a beer stop is fairly uneventful, but this one was spectacular. Some hashers went for a swim, the hash kids decided to paddle and throw rocks, others enjoyed the tourist features of moss waterfalls. And yet others decided to act their shoesize rather than their age by joining the local ados for a spot of bridge jumping. Now, before you stop to criticise me for saying that jumping 7 metres off a bridge into a river is juvenile, I agree. So I let Padre off the charge. But the charge sticks for Pedo, who not only did it but did not think to take off his glasses before doing so. Doh!
The rest of the beer stop was centred around Pedo offering €50 to whichever person could swim to the bottom of the river to retrieve his glasses (they are worth €1,000, you know!). Some hashers, notably the French contingent, were not interested in this and prepared incredibly strong garlic bread instead.
Eventually, the walkers got bored and set off on the second half without the runners. Even they had decided that Pedo’s glasses were now fish food, but a stroke of remarkable luck then happened. A “more mature” swimmer came on the scene with goggles and found the glasses on the river bed immediately. Pedo was so full of happiness that he even forgot to give the man the promised €50!!!
“The only way is up, baby, for you and me now” (c) Yazz circa 1989. Well, that is a fitting summary of the second half. We were in the valley and the cars at the top. Prestressed ensured that the agony was postponed for a while by a wonderful run along an aqueduct/sewage canal (no consensus about which it was!), but the inevitable eventually happened. At least the path up was less treacherous than the descent, but it got the hearts pumping.
Once at the top, Jobsworth’s phone beeped with information from daughter Charlotte that she had “nearly died” on the way up. A lack of concern was compounded by Padre, who called her a drama queen. As it happens, the kids were, well, just a bit cream crackered!
Climb finished, it was an enjoyable meander back to the start for relaxation and down downs. Once there we were graciously met by the other late comers C More Pussy & Whoresin, who insisted that they were not late but had passed by after a hospital visit to natter with Big End. We’ll believe them.
In usual circle tradition, I declined to write down all offences, so here goes with a Zimbabwean certified version of the crimes:
Hares Prestressed, Padre and Oliv(i)er for and excellent run. Special mention goes to Oliv(i)er who helped tremendously despite not knowing what the heck a hash is.
Latecummers Perpertch, Whoresin and C More Pussy.
New shoes Rachel, narrowly helping Whoresin to avoid the charge. Dad Cumalot gamely drank out of her shoes for her (note – he did well to avoid a charge for wearing the most lurid pink socks ever seen this side of Quentin Crisp).
Charlotte daughter of Jobsworth for being too polite when spraying water over Dingus (it is not generally needed to ask permission to do so before soaking somebody). To make amends, she threw her down down over her dad.
Returners – too many to mention.
Virgins & visitors – ditto.
Pedo for the spectacle (boom boom) of losing his glasses.
The mugless were an impressively big crowd including Mad Max, Farty Bum and Jobsworth (although Cumalot should be outed for not having owned up to being mugless).
Shit of the week was a very one sided affair. It could only be Pedo for being very unreasonable in not giving the reward for retrieving lost glasses to the guy who did it on the basis that he was not an ado’. However, in typical style Farty Bum spoilt the party with a late beer attack on the RA.
As a result, she stole the title from a very relieved Pedo......
Circle closed it was onon to a resto for all except your scribe and his daughter, who was dragged kicking and screaming back home as homework is much more important than having fun, isn’t it kids?
A great thanks to the hares for a wonderful afternoon in new territory. It was thoroughly enjoyable. Onon to the next hash!
Also see the Receeding Hare Line!
R*n 648: NEXT HASH 19-Sep
The next hash will be held in the Fayence area.
Leave the A8 at Exit 39 Les Adrets and follow the directions to Fayence. You will enter the Fayence metropolis at the foot of the village, where there is a small roundabout. Turn right and almost immediately left before the Societe Generale bank into thecar park.
This astonishingly wimpy run will be at 1330 for a prompt 1400 start.