A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
Suburban Summer Solstice
Hash #691
June 23, 2013
Hares;
4% Erectus
Climbin’ Uranus
Hounds;
Butt Floss
Nurse TaKillYa
Mail Bait
Tastes Like 10th Grade
Virgin Brian
Speedy CumsOnUs
Ookie Cookie
Porcelain Goddess
Master Baster
Ole Timey Hoedown
UFO
Bedside Pole Dancer
Mr. Potato Head
Just Nora
Twiggy
Road Kill
Zephyr
The day started out blistering hot on the blacktop of the Vincent & Hannah Pew Trail parking lot where Harriers & Harriettes gathered to celebrate the Summer Solstice and the appearance in the sky of the Super Moon. Located on Snyder Hill Rd just off Pine Tree Rd. in Ithaca, we passed around the sunscreen and tick repellant and awaited our hares. It wasn’t long before Climbin’ Uranus pulled into the lot in her vehicle and there were shouts of “a hare, a hare!”. What? Climbin’, you weren’t listed as a hare! Did you step up to help 4%? You did? Way to help a halfmind out!
Spike collected hash cash even though he couldn’t join us on trail due to a heinous (spider?) bite on his leg that had some of us wondering if amputation was imminent.
The smart blondes in the group hid from the sun under the shrubbery while everyone waited for chalk talk. 4% soon arrived, looking worse for wear. Sweaty and bloody, he staggered into our midst and we gathered around to hear the tale of our trail. We were told, in honor of the pagan holiday, Look for the Hash Oak trees (HO) and the special Mangina Oak (MO). Ok, got it – look for HO/MOs. Apparently there are quite a few on trail today. What next? It’s awfully hot out – oppressively so – Water Checks (WC) are a VERY GOOD IDEA. We will definitely need water. Lots of it. All right, good. Other marks are the usual fare…let’s go!
Up the paved walkway until we hit an ‘R’ and got diverted onto a little muddy path that ran behind a fenced-in goat and a murky, nasty looking hole-of-a-pond. We were ALMOST hot enough to consider jumping in, but not quite. The MO was admired for its massive cleft and we wondered if the O of MO was actually still a check. Maybe we should have listened better during chalk talk (It wasn’t). We emerged from the path onto a partially mowed labyrinth of tall grasses and shrubby trees to discover that Nurse had already performed her bi-weekly hash crash in a most spectacular fashion. Her calf was swollen to epic proportions and coloring up nicely. In true Harriette style, she shook it off and said she was ready for another beer.
On-on!
Loudly thrashing through the undergrowth on a seldom-traveled narrow path, the Hounds shouted and
cavorted, frightening a white-tailed deer from its quiet wanderings. The doe darted, zigzagging through the trees, fleeing our terribleness when she nearly crashed full on into Ookie Cookie, who saw his life flash before his eyes in a flurry of hooves and 175 lbs of accelerating muscle. I think he was picking fur out of his teeth for the next half mile. Watch out! Deer Near!
[If the theme for this hash wasn’t Solstice Frolicking, I would have sworn it was Apocalyptic Playgrounds. There were FOUR, count ’em 1234 completely devoid of life playgrounds on this sweltering, sunny, no….wait…are those storm clouds? They look pretty dark. And they’re moving pretty fast. Do you hear thunder? Oh, nothing to worry about – they’re pretty far off and a little rain would feel good at this point. So would a beer, actually…]
Beer Near! Way better than a Deer Near! A cute little picnic table in the middle of a woodsy area hosted more
people than it’s ever had at once, I’m sure. Twiggy and Road Kill decided to FRB for a bit and took off while the rest of us finished our beverages.
Traipsing a bit through some backyards and mowed pathways we found one the many deserted swingsets just off a bit from a newer, fancier playground (also deserted). We stopped to play and PG stepped away to discreetly pee about 3 feet away from us. As she was hiking back up her shorts, a gentleman on a mountain bike rode in and hailed us. Turns out, he is no gentleman, he is a Hasher! Tequila Bill had seen our flour and followed it backwards to find us. PG felt better that it wasn’t a Muggle who had seen her ass and after we realized that there was no beer here, Tequila Bill agreed to meet up with us at the next BN.
The elevation was climbing slowly but steadily as we wound around and through various Cornell Equestrian areas, Road Kill stopped to pat asses while the horses investigated the scene. Up and up as the black clouds assembled overhead, the first rumbles of thunder were heard as we passed beneath a steel tower on top of the hill. Moving a little faster, we descended the other side of the hill, through a field of daisies, down into a leveled off, open, gravelly area under a giant dead tree. On the opposite side of the hill we had just come down from, the leveled area dropped off to a pit filled with huge chunks of broken concrete and rebar, then
further down, more wooded area. A road led down past a massive water holding tank. Coming up the dirt road were shortcutting UFO and Bedside, who started running when they saw us all standing around with beers. It was here, under the really tall dead tree, that we found the 2nd BN and also when the storm hit.
Everyone scrambled to protect their tech on trail in a convenient waterproof pouch that Baster carried. He also generously offered to protect our jewels and cash if necessary. Sadly, no one had any. It was also reported at this time by UFO and Bedside that they had seen Tequila Bill on his way to meet us. Apparently, a patrol car stopped him and asked him why he was biking up the road. Flummoxed, he took one for the team and diverted the police away from our rain-soaked revelry. We Honored Him properly with a rousing toast – Thanks, Tequila Bill! We owe you one! And so, safe from the po-po, we stood and soaked up the refreshments of beer and hot rain.
Debating which way trail went from here, we convinced Virgin Brian that it probably went down into the pit and as he started to descend the scree covered slope toward the rusty metal stabbing fall-catchers and jagged chunks of concrete, we took pity on him and called him back to the road.
On down the road we went, Nurse took a pit stop in an open Cornell building, we crossed into a large field and all the while, the rain came down in a deluge. We could still see flour in places but it was quickly dissolving away. There’s an odd mark here under this giant tree – is that a WC? Water check? Who the hell thought a water check was a good idea? It’s pouring rain out here and we are as wet as the womb! Where’s the effing beer? Poor 4% – now we know why he looked so bedraggled when he walked into the parking lot after setting trail. He had run out to set the water when it was 90 degrees and humid. I drank a pity water for him.
I’m pretty sure it was at this point that our trail crossed over the previous hash’s trail, but in reverse.
You might know what I was talking about if Floss would ever get off his lazy butt and write the rehash from that week (which I set, BTW…), that I gave him all the notes for…*ahem* (gives withering look in Floss’
d’erection). ;o) Seeing the Cornell soccer field in the distance, we run through the tall grass behind East Hill
Plaza and come out behind the hotel and onto the parking lot filled with hot, steamy puddles of rain water. Floss gives me an evil grin so I run up to give him a good shove as he jumps off the curb and into a deep pool, splashing me thoroughly with parking lot runoff. Well played, sir, well played. Much splashing and stomping ensued across the lot while 4% The Hare took the lead due to the complete lack of evidence of any flour whatsoever. Across Pine Tree Rd, behind a baseball field we found a THIRD beer near!
Whoa.
Joining back up with the East Hill Rec Way we passed another former hasher running toward us – though no one could quite remember his name – but those of us who were still trying to finish our last beer whilst moving along toward On-In did not feel the need to be discreet.
On-Hare we moved into circle, which we found to be lacking a good number of hounds that we started out with. I guess the rain washed them away, along with the flour. Those of us remaining enjoyed a warm, wet circle. Mr. Potato Head drank for his High School R*cism, Head had a down-down for her hash crash, Floss drank for needing a stick to help him get up, and I, Tasty did a side-side for my birthday in which beer went in my ear, up my nose, and Ookie copped a feel. Good times.
On-wet&wild-On,
Tastes Like 10th Grade