And so we convene at a crematorium out along Canal Road under a pall
of mercury dust and ashes from the day’s funeral pyre. A timely
reminder that from dust we arise and to dust we return and all that
jazz. Didn’t CW’s last run start at a crematorium? Anyhow the hare
gave us a brief brief — strips, shreds and yes, International
Standards by golly — and we were away.
Nice trails out this way. I started off very slowly and needed to keep
stopping. Felt like someone had Mickeyed me a diuretic. When I reached
the back of the pack I found Abominable Blue Balls paused and
surveying the situation and “quite fancying” a trail to the right. Not
in such a big way as to run down it, mind.
You will have to forgive your correspondent for not seeing much of the
action from here on. I was a good distance behind the FRBs and only
met other hashers when they were returning from checking circles and
false trails. Something had to be working well for the hare today
because the pack was pretty much held together whenever I came across
it. By this time I was a tad concerned about the rumblings in the
distance and what these might entail. Couldn’t pick up pace though.
After a while of slow solo shuffling I caught sight of Sloppy Rod
hobbling and dragging his ankle behind him. He said he was at the edge
of a gulley, taking in the view? I dunno, but the ground gave in
beneath him! Landed on his ass. Now, I personally have had experiences
such as this so kudos for pressing on with nary a whinge.
On then, trying to keep ahead of what was coming. Following broken
checks correctly and yet screwing up false trails! I had no idea how
much further I might need to go and then the rains came. Sudden and
torrential. Thoughtful haring meant only one or two shreds of paper
for an awful long time. And it was getting dark. When I got to the
temple wall it was dark and there were three ways to check. Was the
circle washed away? I went left first for a good distance but nothing.
Came back to find guess who? Mr Poo, almost as clueless as me. Next I
took the dirt track, nothing and back. Kwazi Moto arrived on the scene
and went the way I just came from. I gambled on third time lucky and
set off, again nada. Came across no hash name Mark and we tried the
dirt track again. On we went, and on, and on, through lightning and
sheet rain until we came to Canal Road. Result. But which way? No hash
name Mark rode in on his bicycle so he thought he might recognize the
turn off CR. Took us 40 minutes.
Back at the A bucket to find the hare out looking for hashers. He
didn’t find anyone, but how about this? Sloppy Rod limped in using an
improvised crutch made from a branch he hacked down.
At the start of the run my mind I idly wondered what it would be like
to go up in a puff of smoke, and at the end I nearly did. Cheers Chuck
Wao for a memorable set, hypothermia notwithstanding.