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Never Cums

A perfect 10

December on the Côte d'Azur and the mood is festive. The snow has fallen on the mountains, which are glimmering a beautiful white in the distance and the weather is a balmy 16 degrees, with not a cloud in sight. This is augmented by the promise of a hash in the Esterel, those beautiful red rocks that form such an impressive view from the aeroplane window when you come in to land at Nice airport. It is such a perfect setting, in fact, that the car park at the meeting point is positively overflowing with hashers and their assorted animals (that's no way to talk about some of our esteemed brethren - Ed).
At this point, I suspect that the reader is imagining me to bring them down to earth with a bump, with stories of disastrous organisation, a dreadful experience, frayed tempers and the like. But no, the eulogy continues. Once upon a time, mismanagement committee had debated the perfect hash and the answer was a perfect 10 with a couple of big boobs for extra pleasure (well, for the men at least).
The theory is that anything less does not give sufficient enjoyment whilst anything more is, frankly, very tiring and too much. This hash was the perfect 10 with 2 nicely proportioned boobs. At this point, I should mention that the hares were harriettes Fly Me and Cum Cum. I would never dare to suggest that they are anything other than perfect, but in this case I am talking about the runners' trail. It was exactly 10km , with a gorgeous run up one mound in the first half and a run up the other mound in the second half. Perfection, as I mentioned, although you will have to ask the hares whether they got as much satisfaction from the experience of people running up and down their perfect forms as we did.
And so to the start. The extended turn out provided a good gaggle of walkers and another good gaggle of runners. As Padre had returned from dank Plymouth, we set off exactly on time at 10.30, safe in the knowledge that the trail would wind up into the hills. But it didn't; instead, we had a touristy trip around the Port de la Rague. Fortunately or otherwise, this detour did not last long and was just a fiendish way of slowing the runners down.
Back on track, we headed along a path inland until a check took us off road and up a mountain side. Now, the hares had warned that the path would not be VTTable but the narrowness and shigginess was just taking the proverbial. Worse, we could not show off our athletic ability as the damn walkers kept getting in the way. Fortunately Sadist & Jobsworth had the intelligence to cut off 5 metres of a U bend and thereby get ahead of most of the walkers. Intelligent? Yes. Ingenious? Definitely. The correct thing to do? Apparently not as said pair got down downs for short cutting later on. All I can say in my defence was that there was no flour on that part of the trail.....
Meanwhile, Prestressed was bringing up the rear with his new female version of Dyson, a yet to be named young Jack Russell. Being young and female, he kept the dog on a chastity belt, sorry a lead, as she looks like a bit of a goer. It was probably a good thing as well given the hunters we encountered later.
Finally, the top of the hill was reached and it gave spectacular views of the bay of Cannes. So spectacular, in fact, that nobody could be bothered to check out the trail. Virgins Mark and Josh can be forgiven for this but old timer Padre cannot. Worse, somebody suggested to take a picture of the local beauties (or was it beautiful view?) and this is what we got. Yes, the dog is gorgeous, but it seems that there was some mix up in the definition of beauty here. Padre had promised a photo of PHD but it seems that he decided to protect her reputation once again by substitution virgin Mark and his dog. Make of it what you will.

And so, after the runners had been overwhelmed by walkers on their trail and then overwhelmed by the ruggedness as shown in the picture we carried on to a check that could only go up, surely. Sadist was convinced it would and sent new boy Josh up to check it out but, deviously, the hares had marked the trail downhill. Worse, it was a "Padre special" downhill, all narrow ankle busting paths and scree. Even worse, we could hear the voices of the walkers who had at some point deviated to a much easier asphalt road. At least this meant one thing - beer must be close by. And, sure enough, the bottom of the downhill from hell had a big B sign and an arrow. This, however, was not enough for some of the walkers who were milling around at the bottom like lost sheep bleating "where's the beer car?" Even better, they even started walking in the opposite direction of the arrow. Bless them; I could name names but I would live in fear of being exiled to Robben Island if I did so (hint - there is a clue in that remark as to one of the offenders. Think of recently departed Nelson M and make the link). (Editor's note - don't worry, that clue is far too cerebral for most hashers, so the secret remains safe).
The first half was a very perfectly round and firm 1 hour for the runners, who rejoiced with beer and crisps (Boy, I really miss out of date Geoffrey's provisions). I understand from the walkers that their trail was equally fun but with less of a mound to climb and with an experience only slightly ruined by runners barging through them every so often. Good to see so many returners at this point, with dirty old men Sneaky Bastard and Licky Dicky spied sharing many sniggers and dirty laughs. One can only guess their subject of conversation.
The beer stop finished all too soon and off we went again on the second half, which went up another mound before descending the other side. This time it was much easier to navigate, with no difficult terrain, just easy going DFCIs that let Procul and Jobsworth display to the others the FRBs that they are. Except, of course, for young Josh, who ran at a precariously fast rate. The joy of being young and carefree.
After a very enjoyable trail, we found ourselves at the beerstop once more (minus, unfortunately, the beer car). From here it was a straight run in for 1 or 2 km to the start. Except that we found ourselves running through orange hated hunters (strange people these hunters; they wear orange for security but still swig willingly on the Cognac whilst keeping a hand on their shotguns. No wonder there are so many accidents). Anyway, all hashers were accounted for at the end and even Prestressed's new dog did not do any damage, more's the pity.
The walkers were clearly slacking on the second half as they took a long while to return to the start. This gave ample time for the runners to muse over the perfect 10 of a hash. 10km, 2 perfectly formed and pert hills to climb and all this from two blondes.

And so to the circle, ably managed by Padre in the absence of his permanent stand in Cumalot:
Hares - Cum Cum and Fly Me
"Not" late cumming crowd - Procul, Mme Mouton & Jacquie
Returners (so many of them) - PHD, Wet Spot, Sadist, Contessa, Coco, Olga, Prestressed, Skinny A, No Grappa and apologies to all I forgot to mention
Lazy shortcutting B'stards - Sadist, Jobsworth & Josh (who was semi let off as he was led astray whilst doing it)
Virgins - Mark, Michelle, Josh & Ula
Birthday - Fly Me
Mandela babes - Prestressed & Skinny A (note - this also gives a clue to one of the walkers who could not work out where the beer stop was...see detail in the run report) SOW nominations - Iron Lady for not looking after virgins, No Grappa for reasons that escape me and Padre for being dim witted enough to ask Iron Lady to look after a virgin. The kangaroo court decided by a huge margin that only Padre could be awarded the accolade.

And that ended the hash. A lovely trail in glorious weather "run" in great company. What more could a hasher want from the day? Answer - a meal, and so it was that most everyone trooped off to the local resto to tuck in to salmon and lamb.

----------------------------------------- Appended to the run report by another source:

Suitably chastised by the two S and M Religious Advisers and refreshed will the amber liquid our task master Hares cracked the whip and attempted to herd us into the restaurant, in the port, in time for the 1330 hrs. booking.
Familiar to a large percentage as the Friday night Happy Hour venue run by Didier and Esther, and the waitresses with the shapely buns..

A wonderful setting on the Quay side in the warm afternoon sun, even though it was a tad crowded and the staff looking a little frazzled.

This item on the menu caught my eye but unfortunately they were all sold out..

Apparently Mme. Mouton was the inspiration for the salad. Although I must admit my lamb steak was extremely succulent.
But not as succulent as the Salmon which was succulent in the extreme, according to the fish expert.
As Paedophil constantly remarks, "There are only two things that smell of fish".
Chocolate heaven to follow and stinky cheese for the weirdos that do not like chocolate.

The timing was spot on with the goodbye Bissouses coinciding with the sun disappearing over the red rocks of the Esterelle in a glorious sunset.
Future Hares should bear this place in mind when trying to locate an eating venue.

Away Weekends
More Info.

Try this link to find information regarding the Belgium Interhash bid for 2014.
Book early and obtain a good price. (If they win the bid)
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R*n 747: NEXT HASH 15-dec

Hello All,

Timings for this weekend.


1830 - 1930 hours - Padre's Cocktail Hour. There will be directions by flour and signs from the Park and Suites Reception Office to the apartment where this will be held. As it will be dark it will be like a full moon hash!

1930 - Dinner and Disco.

0130 - Carriages.


1100 Recovery Run from the Car Park. This will last about I hour. There will be no beer stop.

1200 Circle

Park & Suites Village
Mandelieu La Napoule - Cannes
161, rue Yves Brayer
06210 Cannes
TÚl : 04 93 93 45 13