ReHash #161


This last weeks hash was one of the finest hashes in all of hash history. In order to be one of the finest hashes in hashdom it was competing with some top rate hashes. It was up there with the yellow barn ski hash this past winter set by prickless and myself where we sent the entire hash down a long, narrow trail and had a 5 hasher pile up. Now that was a hash. It was as good as the campus hash set by Bam Bam and myself where we sent the hash over the bridge across Bebe lake. What a hashing experience. It was even as good as the old 600 hash set by Toothy and myself where it had rained the night before so the little steam we ran in turned into a waterfall and everybody got completely wet and Prickless even turned blue at the ON IN. Truly a hash to remember.

What made this hash so special? Like fine chocolate there were many subtle factors that worked together to make this hash an indescribably rich experience. The beautiful fall leaves, the incredible vistas, the thrill of a challenging uphill climb, the joy of sliding down long, steep, wet hills, the schnapps, all these played a role in the glory of this hash. Some would say that this hash was a miserable, wet, ankle breaking experience but they say that only because they are euphoric from the joy of strenuous hill climbing and they know not what they say.

Hashers arrived at Shindagin Hollow to find Toothy and I sprawled on Grandmas blanket having a little picknic of bread, cheese, wine and (of course) chocolate, nursing our wounds and trying to dry our soggy feet. The hash began at the grave of Arthusa (wife of Matthew) and ran immediately up a hill, down a hill, and to the nearest gorge (with a stunning view of the gorge and lovely fall colours all around). The hashers scrambled down the hill in what ever way suited them best, some opted for sliding while others just fell, and arrived at a warm, shallow little stream to wade up. We followed this little brook to Bambi’s skeleton then ran up the side of a rock. This was especially fun for those in back because we not only got to climb up the rock but we got to do it with little rock bits falling in our eyes and loose soil from previous hashers slipping out from under our hands and feet (both of which were necessary to get up). Once at the top Alex drank some Schnaaps while we watched.

From here I will have to write about joys I did not, in fact, experiencebut having walked the route a few too many times, I think I can make a good guess at what happened. While I hung back to help some stragglers the hash spared me not a second thought and ran eagerly up a long, shallow, ankle eating grade until they reached the perfectly flat feild where Homoses twisted his ankle. I can only assume that the hash enjoyed the nice flat running surface of the road that they got to run on after the perfectly flat field (the only trail like thing in the entire hash) because I know I did. Just as the weary hashers were getting used to branch/bump/hole/bramble free running they turned and waded down another warm, shallow stream until they reached the lean-to and another little mystery jar. While the hash was doing this I was racing after the distant sounds of ON ON, trying to catch them. I reached the lean-to long after the Schnaaps was gone and tried to short cut down to the the next little stream where I knew they would go. Unfortunately I had an encounter with a branch while sliding down the hill and I ran along the stream with two twisted ankles holding one eye. Still, in the distance I heard the hashers. When we finally emerged onto the road I saw the stragglers just turning up another little warm, shallow stream about to climb what I knew to be a great big hill (with a lovely view at the top of all the surrounding hills and valleys). I felt it was my obligation, as a hare, to escort Homoses back to his car by way of road when he mentioned his aching ankle. I wanted to go up that hill again because everyone knows my great love of hills, but I exerted some will power and went the easy way (and missed the last container of schnaaps).

We met up with the hash after sharing this weeks murky moment (I won’t embarrass you with the details) at the fire pit where Toothy and I had kindly provided fire wood and a cheery atmosphere to share the joy we all felt at having experienced such a great hash. The blab this week was Cutter and his amazing dog Oliver, but he didn’t have to drink for it because he is new. Instead Bubbles and Raaaalph were punished for almost being last. Cassandra finally confessed to her October birthday, and Prickless is this weeks horses ass (aparently she complained of an aching ass during the hash). Several people drank for their dirty posteriors, which they revealed in all their glory while we sang. Gerard was honored for saving Toothy from falling into a puddle – he was so concerned that she would fall into it that he threw himself into it in front of her to let her know it was there (he is such a sweet guy!). I don’t remember why but Raaaalph has the hashit and I think she needs to get it more often to practice drinking for it. It took her a little while to get through that mug – which was disappointing given her impressive drinking earlier that evening.

And this is the story of one of the best hashes in history.

Once again, there will not be a movie review because I haven’t seen any movies. This time I do know the receding hare line – Toothy and Bam Bam will set the next hash somewhere in Conneticut hills. The location will be announced later.

Hairy Vetch -Amy