150TH HASH RE-HASH
The 150th running of the Ithaca Hash was hot and wet. The regular crew was there, plus a couple of newcomers. A newly healed Bam Bam hobbled his first hash since trashing his ankle on the (147th) hash from hell at Robinson Hollow
The run started at the Trumansburg high school and wound its way down to the first of two gorges. Hot Lips forgot his horn, so we were led by the dulcet tones of a 100-decibel police whistle donated by Trojan. As we ran through the creek, Schvantzie danced along the edge, seeking dry footing. Like a cat on a sinking boat he scrambled frantically for dry ground as the stream banks got steeper. The rest of the hash barreled on down the gorge, unaware of the drama unfolding behind them. Faced with the inevitable, Schvantzie set his jaw, swallowed hard and stepped into the water. The sky darkened and a hush fell over the woods; the earth shook as if to crack. The Sacred Shoes of Schvantzie drank it down, down, down, down . . .
The first hash rest was held in the creek, where most of us piled under a waterfall (the same one we climbed down in January; I almost didn’t recognize it in its liquid form.) Skull kept us entertained with a soccer ball he found in the creek. He then vowed to kick it all the way to the On In. Let’s just say he’s no Pele. Thankfully, Amy took the damned thing away from him and sent it back into the gorge.
Dishonorable and Drain conveniently got lost shortly thereafter, ostensibly due to a shortcut gone awry. Hot Legs collected them on Route 96 hours later, and neither of them was able to explain their flushed complections and rumpled clothing. Whatever actually happened during that afternoon interlude, Drain was so disturbed by the experience that he passed on the Hash Bash and left town immediately.
A long, flat run to another gorge ensued. The third and final hash rest was held in the swimming hole on Rabbit Run Rd. Mis-step and Hot Lips’ family thoughtfully provided M & Ms and popsicles for the weary hashers, who lazed under the cascading waters of a series of small falls. After more than an hour, and several failed attempts, Hot Lips finally succeeded in herding us out of the water and onto the road. The On In was not far away.
The down-downs and the Hash Bash were held in Hot Lips’ back yard. Congratulations to the major award winners of the evening – Bam Bam, the proud new keeper of the Hashit; Skull, who was saddled with the Horse’s Ass just because; and Hot Legs, who now wields an impotent pistol. Thanks to Hot Lips for providing food and volleyball.