IH3 Trail #502: Hammond Hill Hashilarity

Hash #502: Hammond Hill Hashilarity
#502 By the Numbers:
Number of Hashers in Attendance: 17
Virgins in Attendance: 1
Skiiers in attendance: 3
Skiiers by the end: 1
Snowshoers: 11
Runners: 2
Hashers named: 4
Protestations of Hash Name: 1
Largest Simultaneous Down-Down: 6
Dry Lips Down-Downs: 1
Number of Hash Hounds: 6
Number of times we got to see Butt Flosses’ underoos: 1
Pairs of underoos that looked like a filled-up diaper-thong: 1
Significant trail markings obscured due to ill-advised placement: ≥3
Bearded Hares: 2
Hash crashes: 3

Harriers: Butt Floss, Little Oral Annie, Lörd Bürpënstäin, Cocksmith, Pippi Schlongstocking, Extra Testicle, Toothy Lunker, Twisted Fister, Hairy Condom, Jr., Just Ali, Just Jason, Just Alex, Just Amanda, Just Steve, Just Nancy, Just Joel

The hash convened on Star Stanton road under the sun of a brisk midwinter afternoon. People drove up gradually, avoiding the occasional snow machine that intruded on the otherwise peaceful calm of the day. Here and there, a cross-country skiier would slide by, gazing sidelong at our motley crew, perhaps bemused by the presence of alcohol on state lands. Several remarked on LOA’s daring choice of headwear – a fashionable skunk headdress befitting the most rugged of Daniel Boone-types. Sadly, she chose not to take it on trail, perhaps for fear that a wolverine would attempt to mate with it.

Hares Extra Testicle and Bürpënstäin welcomed us, with Bürpy giving the Hashpiel for the benefit of Ali. We embarked on trail – three on skis, two on foot, and the rest floppity-flopping along on snowshoes. We continued uphill and on trail for a league, working our way through several nested Y-checks. The trail was quiet, well-packed and fairly easy… however at one point Just Ali caught a toe on a branch and did a remarkable face-plant to the amusement of several. At one point FRB Just Joel had to wait several minutes at a check just to make sure tha entire hash wasn’t consumed by a brace of ravenous grizzly bears, however the eventual sight of Toothy dispelled the notion.

Skirting along the crown of Hammond Hill, the hash continued on for another kilometer or so, eventually finding the revered Beer Near at a crossroads of trail, maintenance road and snowmobile path. Some minutes had passed before we missed ET, who apparently had stopped to flagellate himself before catching up for a restorative beer. Some amusement was had regarding Toothy’s pooch, who enjoyed lording Alpha status over the other hounds.

Once the beer was depleted and the chill had started to set in, the pack was off once again, tentatively scouting several paths before determining the maintenance road was the true trail. Down the way we wended, passing another
couple of x-country skiers before hitting a BC 5, forcing a turn back into the woods. Down we went, negotiating more curves amidst bumpy terrain. At several points, the hash was held up due to questionable markings. Although we rightly assumed the presence of checkpoints, the inconvenient placement of trail markings amidst the path caused the hares to be subject to much scorn and derision. The high point of the second leg was Toothy’s hash-crash, causing Just Joel to leap gallantly to her aid.

On we went, dodging rocks and snowmobile debris. As we approached the second Beer Near, Pippi decided to try some off-trail action, resulting in a ripped binding and a bruised ego. Some mockery was rightly made, but Cocksmith removed her skis in a show of solidarity. (Not at all due to trepidation about going downhill). On the trail the harriers continued. Curiously, many made it to the second beer-near by blowing through a false trail, rather than the intended path which only a few chose to take.

We caught up at the Hammond Hill parking lot. We were fortunate that none of the other hikers had found our beer; likewise that the beer was not hidden in the porta-john. We warmed up to ruffled chips, Genny Cream Ale and Old Mil Light, a suitable combination for a lovely day. We were in good spirits after a trail frought with multiple false and obscured trails, but we were not over yet. Several of us felt the impending twilight chill, so we hastened on trail as soon as the last beer was finished.

On we went, this time through an open field, as yet unspoiled save a single pair of snowshoe tracks. Just Nancy sneakily checked out a possible false trail as the rest of the group laboriously trudged their way towards the checkpoint. The journey in seemed slow, as we were clearly fatigued and in need of additional malty goodness. At last, we returned from whence we came. A decision was made to adjourn to the Crooked Board Tavern, where the warmth and indoor plumbing was a boon indeed.

Many down-downs ensued, to the delight of all. Attempting to recall….:
Hares: ET / Bürpënstäin
Virgins: Just Ally (Bürpënstäin got it started, LOA/Butt Floss finished ‘er off)
BLEAB: Twisted Fister
BLAB: Just Alex / Just Amy
Short cutters: Butt Floss, LOA, Toothy, Cocksmith, Pippi, ?
Racism: Floss
Hash Crash: Pippi, Toothy, Just Ali
Chivalry: Just Joel, Toothy, Cocksmith
Cums Lately: Just Amy, Just Alex, Twisted Fister
FRB: Just Joel, Toothy
DFL: Just Amy
Early checking: Just Nancy
Headgear: LOA
Of particular note, this circle was the first time in recent memory in which four hashers were named. There was an initial nomination phase, after which point those in waiting were banished to the desolate wastelands of the ante-room. Upon their return, those so named are as follows:
Just Alex shall be henceforth known as – Burr Balls
Just Nancy shall be henceforth known as – Freeze Frame
Just Joel shall be henceforth known as – Master Baster
Just Steve shall be henceforth known as – S.S . Thunderthighs

We celebrated the naming of the four with additional beer and good humor, until it was time to go in peace, and to get a piece.
On-on,

~Your Happy-Pantsed Master Baster