Wanklin’ in Franklin Hash

Run #1064, August 21, 2006

Hare:  Trail Hoover

Location:  Franklin State Forest, MA

Weather:  Low 80’s, Clear

Present:  Oozing SD, Dr W.H.O., Eenie Weenie Dick, Justin My Ass, WIPOS, Amish It Head, Bondo Jovi, Basket Boom Boom, Ben.

The Run:

This writeup will be more pathetic than ever, because a) the run was three months ago, b) there was nothing memorable about the trail, c) I can’t think of a way to avoid writing this in the first person, and d) I, your scribe and most personable of all hashers, shortcutted the whole thing. About all I can remember, is that when I shortcutted straight to the BC, I looked for the beer for about 30 minutes. I came within two yards of the cache and still managed to miss it. They do say that wanking makes you go blind. But I can make up stuff with the best of them. So…

The hare set trail from the parking lot of some sort of business on Grove Street, in Franklin MA, within sight of some powerlines. The group gathered and for a while, it looked good. But just at 6:25, Basket showed up! You know, there really is no reason that we can’t start a little early sometimes. If the hare wants to, I mean. The group set out briefly southwest on Grove St. To our surprise, the trail was not found on either side of the powerlines. It continued straight on the road for another 100 yards. Of course, I soon found the true trail, turning right. We entered the woods heading west.

The hash was together for the most part, led by EWD and Justin My Ass. It was all path, no shiggy, and the few checks were easily mastered. The flour suffered from the recent rainfall, and was difficult to discern in most areas. There were plenty of puddles (but all were avoidable). The trail was full of switchbacks and turns, and what little sense of direction the hashers had was soon completely gone. This is a recipe for a classic. Always adventurous, I tried a right at a check, and was soon off on my own altogether. The rest turned left (south) on true trail. As far as I know, they got involved in a long and boring clockwise tour of the Franklin State Forest. They were pretty much herded by the hare, I think. Marks gone from the rain, and such. They didn’t have anywhere near the fun I had. Not much more to say about that, is there? Aren’t you glad I can’t describe this in the usual nauseating detail? I should try to get lost more often. It’ll please all of us. Me, most of all.

My side of the story is this: I found myself on an unmarked trail. I came to the powerlines, but couldn’t find a mark. So I turned back. I found a second unmarked trail, and by the sound of it, I was paralleling Basket who must have been on yet another trail. This is how I like it. Basket on another trail, I mean. But my path curved north, while the sounds of Basket continued west. I like this also. Having seen a map of the State Forest, I knew north led to a water tower. Good place for a beer check, I thought. So I carried on, came out at the water tower, found a “B”. Thirty minutes from the start! What a hasher! Unfortunately, despite another thirty minutes of searching, I couldn’t find the “b”. It sucked to be me then, I can tell you. Finally, I gave up and turned west and downhill, following trail backwards. But really, WHO cares?

Meanwhile, Justin My Ass continued to lead on the long circle west of Spring Street. Basket and Oozing did their best to get lost, and the hare was near the front of the pack, frantically remarking. Or is that re-marking? Turning east, JIMA saw me trying to erase a check mark. Damn! Foiled again! And then the hare showed up. She was heartily cursed by yours truly for being competent at hiding beer (see run #1060.) (Dammit!). The three of us, pursued by EWD and Amish ran back south then east to the water tower. The hare showed me my own footprints within a few feet of the stash. It REALLY sucked to be me, now!

The beer was brought out to the shadows of the water tower, and opened with some Cheetos and chips. Unfortunately, everyone found the BC. Bondo even made it. We hid but WIPOS directed Basket around to where the group was hiding. The beer was opened, a few songs were sung, and the hare and Basket started talking rock-climbing again. This is getting old. The least you could do is get your arm trapped in a crevice or a crevasse or Bondo’s ass or something so’s you have to gnaw it off or something, Basket. Maybe then we’ll listen to your stories. But it was getting dark. The flies were enjoying themselves, though. Finally, we set off, east on Forge Rd, past the Scout camp, and the southeast on a path to the powerlines. Couldn’t totally skip a powerline, now could we.

We gathered to circle. It was now pitch black in the woods, perfect for circling up. So we elected to hold the ceremonies in view of the road, under the blazing spotlights of the powerline switching station. Brilliant! Ratings for the run: virgin territory, soaked flour, puddles, flies, and my pitiful showing at the BC far outweighed the lack of real shiggy and the presence of Basket and Bondo. Total: 6.9! Hashit: now here’s a Hobson’s choice!. WHO was the obvious candidate? But every one knows they’re in for a long, annoying, and confusing song every time I get hashit. My songs to the hash are like a cross to a vampire. Naturally, I don’t get hashit often. It ultimately went to WIPOS! Finishing up, we went on to the Piccadilly Pub nearby, and had some good food and some excellent local microbrew. Not a bad ending. (Even if I am making it all up.)

On On