IH3 Trail #484

Subject: Hot and sticky rehash, June 18th, 2006

Location: Ridgeway Road in Willseyville
Hares: Staffy Puller, and Ball Wrinkle, with at little help from Tequila Bill
Virgins: Just Jessica, and her pooch Just Mindy (who doesn’t take any shit from dogs 4 times her size)
Hounds: Pippi Schlongstocking, Cocksmith, Dances With Head, Pussy Pong, Liquor Harder, Unidentified Feathered Orifice, Bedside Pole Dancer, Just Bob (If you want your proper hash name, stick around for the circle!), Spike, Women There, Capt. Slimy, Puker, Crazy Eyes, and Pees like a girl…
Hash Scribe: Baron Bürpenstain
Hash marks not normally used, but used at this hash: Nipple Check

As I was driving down Ridgeway road on my way to the start of the hash, I came upon our hares, walking down the road, apparently toward the trail head, so I offered them a ride, and they accepted; one would think that an act of such generosity would be rewarded with warnings pertaining to particularly onerous false trails, but it was not, more on that later.

After unloading the hares at the start of our trail, I cracked open a cold one, and began bitching about the heat, as it had been 95 degrees at the bank I drove past not much earlier. After a chalk talk from Staffy, we were checking out the trail. I went off down the road, to the railroad bed, and saw flower "on-one", 10 feet later, "on-two", a very short distance again, "on-three", and then an arrow, "on-on-on!" Across the creek that drains the swamp, which required complete soaking of my shoes, less than 60 seconds into the hash, only to find a big fat X less than 50 yards past the creek. Now, if I were in possession of more than half a mind, I would have taken this experience, and decided that staying close to the hares was a good idea, but… I do only have a half-mind (if that…).

Back out to the road to check it out in some other di-erection. I heard hashers who seemed to be on true trail going south on the very same railroad bed that your truly, Just Bob, and some others had just checked north on, so south we went. After a short while on the railroad bed, we came to the nipple check. After explaining this mark to some who were not familiar with it (this check must be solved by a female hasher, unless one of them flashes the male hashers at the check), Cocksmith, Just Bob (are you sacrificing your genitals?), and I believe it was Bedside Pole Dancer took off into the shiggy surrounding the railroad bed. On-on-on from the left… Into the woods I went, only to hear false moments later. I guess the hares can’t count. Back out and across the railroad bed, through some shiggy to a trail, which we followed briefly only to cut back through the shiggy to the same railroad bed we had just been on. And south we went on the railroad bed… Past where the FLT comes in on the right… Past where the FLT leaves on the left… Just Bob told me he suspected we were on a Back Check trail, as we had run past several side trails at this point.

Pippi and Spike, who were in front of Just Bob and myself apparently had a similar conversation. After much more running, Just Bob and I were almost up to Pippi and Spike, when Pippi and Spike stopped, and stood in awe where the railroad bed comes out on to white church road. Just Bob and I soon figured out why Spike and Pippi were so shocked, BC 35.

In case you didn’t hear that I said BC 35! BACK CHECK 35!!!

Now, I have seen some double digit back checks in my day, but most of those were on narrow twisty trails that required the marks to be close together, we had been running on a railroad bed, the marks were spaced out quite a bit.

Knowing that we were at least a mile and a half from the beer now, there was only one thing to be done, we turned around, and started running, sweeping up many shocked hashers along the way. Discussion of appropriate punishment for the hares began… 35 down-downs was proposed, as was an icing… As we ran some hashers seemed to lose their will to go on, slowing from an eager run in search of beer to a defeated walk in search of relief from the heat. As we were running back I spent a few minutes talking to our virgin for the day, Just Jessica, I learned that Just Jessica works on stuff pertaining to birds, and bats, and their unfortunate interactions with wind turbines, and that she, like me, is of Midwestern origin. I also noted that she might be too smart to be a hasher, as she was able to deduce the reason I am called Lord Bürpenstain after only one monstrous belch, I blamed it on the beer I had at the trail head, but honestly, I probably would have been burping anyway. When I (finally) got back to where the checking was to be done, I could already see much of the hash sipping their beer in the shade on the FLT. It seems that TB knew where the beer was, and didn’t run one hash mark worth of false trail in getting to it, and that Dances With Head had stumbled across the BN prematurely when avoiding shiggy trying to get back to the railroad bed earlier. As the last of the hashers who had ventured down what could possibly be the longest false trail in the history of the Ithaca hash came into the beer near, we noted that Arlo was one dirty dog, and that we couldn’t tell if Toby was, being a black lab and all… Eventually someone (no doubt one of the hashers who didn’t do the back check 35) decided that it was once again time to check it out. And off we went, along the FLT with a check and a Y and a short excursion off to the side of the FLT for a little while only to return to the FLT until I heard Dances yell "beer near"

Eager to begin relaxing again, I sprinted past Capt. Slimy, Women There, Cocksmith and Arlo, only to find that Dances had made an ass out of you and me, by assuming that Ball Wrinkles truck would mean beer, but no beer was found, nor were any markings in flower to indicate that we should have found beer. Dejected, I walked out to the road, and up towards Eastman hill. Up-up Eastman hill on the FLT we went, Just as it seemed the trail was getting flatter, we made a left up a switch back trail, which was also up-up, but we stopped to cool both hashers and hounds alike at a small spring coming out of the side of the hill. Up the hill we trudged. BN spotted, look for the beer! Further up the hill another BN? Then we found a backpack containing a lot of warm beer, and a bag of ice which was failing miserably at its appointed job… I ‘enjoyed’ a warm Genny cream ale as the rest of the hash arrived. Apparently Genny cream is Liquor Harder’s mom’s favorite beer, which gives Liquor Harder a funny feeling about the beer. We pondered the finer points of cheap beer. Is it better to have a cheap beer that tastes like piss, or a cheap beer that taste like nothing? Most advocated beer with no flavor, but some of us chose the beer with bad flavor. Dances and Just Jessica discussed bird watching, and I noted on Just Jessica’s ankle a tattoo of a Great Blue Heron.

After a couple of group pictures, we were on-on again. Going only slightly farther up the hill, before turning off trail and through some possible broken ankle territory before going around to cross the abandoned Eastman hill road, and go down a seriously steep incline which Ball Wrinkle had decorated with a large rubber snake right in the middle of the trail. At the bottom we found a check, where Pippi and I relaxed on a log while waiting for more hashers so we could check. Well, pippi got so relaxed on this log that he farted in my general direction. I protested "you could have leaned the other way", But pippi claims he couldn’t have, as he would have tipped over… Anywho, 3 more hashers arrived, and we spread out in all directions in search of flower. I found no flower, but I did find a nice cold creek about 50 ft. from the check, As I rejoiced while cooling my feet and ankles in the cold flowing water, Arlo’s mom sent him over to cool off with me. After Arlo and I played in the creek for a while somebody found trail heading back out to the road, and the on in. I trudged downstream, trying to stay cool as long as I could, and found one spot in the creek deep enough to induce shrinkage, after that part of the creek, I felt sufficiently cooled and took the most direct route available back to the trail, and along the road to the on-in, where we found Toothy Lunker, Just Drake, and Fishy Fingers who had cut off the trail, an excusable offence considering the state of Toothy’s baby bump, but we would punish them none the less. Just Bob, and Spike had to leave early and missed the circle.

After carrying some coolers a little ways off the road, we opened the circle. After punishing the hares for a setting a shitty trail, we welcomed our virgin, who made, who made herself cum.

We proceed to punish various hashers for various offences.

Bun in the oven — Staffy (plus the other hares) and Toothy

Fathers and Fathers to be — Tequila Bill, Ball Wrinkle (and when one hare drinks…), Fishy Fingers, Women There.

Everyone who saw the BC 35 — Pippi and Lord Bürpenstain (Spike and Just Bob had to take off…)

Everyone who did none of the BC 35 — DWH, Pussy Pong, Tequila Bill, and more I believe…

Bleabs and Blabs — Our Virgin, Just Jessica was willing (eager?) to do another down-down even though it was explained to her that virgins need only drink once if they wish, and UFO and Bedside both drank for BLABing even though I am sure only one of them (UFO?) was navigating…

First Bastard In — Dances…

Kilt in the circle – Pippi

Bird watching on trail — Dances, Just Jessica, Your Truly (for spotting the Great Blue Heron on Just Jessica during a bird watching conversation), and Ball Wrinkle (who had watched as I extended my middle digit after the BC35)

There were more accusations made, I don’t remember them, and shame on you for expecting me to!

We paused the circle so we could continue making accusations later if needed, and headed (HEAD, WHO SAID HEAD?) over to the home of Staffy and TB so we could feast upon all the goodies hashers had brought, and that TB was about to grill. A good time was had by all.