The “Waterville Mountain Downhill Ski Story” Hash

Run #1103, May 21, 2007

Hare:  Fuwangi Boner

Location:  West Greenwich, RI

Weather:  60s, sunny

Present:  Amish Ithead, Bondo Jovi, WIPOS, Just John, Basket Boom Boom, Seamus, Ben.

The Run:

What a glorious hash this was, it contained everything you need for a fun evening:

1. Slim-jimming the hare’s truck in attempts to score the beer while he’s setting trail – check
2. Wonderful weather and landscape for trail (or bike riding) – check
3. High quality, and high strength, beer – check
4. First ticks of the season - check
5. Basket projectile vomiting into the toilet at Mark’s/Rosie’s – check

I really feel bad for admitting it, but this hash was a very enjoyable and easy-going time. Only thing that could make it better would be if we had bimbos, which IS something we can blame the hare for as he drove away our only hope in TLC. It’d also be better if we didn’t have to hear Basket yapping about drinking Smuttynose at the top of Waterville Valley. Over, and over, and over.

Hash started at the main entrance to the Arcadia Management Area off of 165 in West Greenwich, and with a small pack there was good promise of plenty of beer. Unfortunately, there was also Bondo and Basket but I guess you can’t have all your wishes granted. Trail lead east out of the lot and into the woods with Basket and Amish leading. After a little bushwhacking a trail was encountered and a check had Just John and Basket leading right and Bondo (on his bike) going left. After a false trail mark was found by Basket all turned around and followed towards where Bondo had gone. Apparently his laziness had progressed from no longer running the trail to not even calling others on. A new low for Bondo. A check at the bottom of the trail (also known as the back of the parking lot from where we started) had the pack traveling on-road north into the park.

After the bridge a check was found with Amish going right and Just John going left. John called “on on” and the pack followed him, on the west side of a small peaceful river. After following that for a bit the first watercrossing was made and the pack, still being led by Just John, ended up back on 165 a tad West from where they first started.

A cross over the road had all on the east side of the now larger and deeper version of the previous small peaceful river. A balls-deep cross of this had Just John leading Basket and Amish east to a check where Basket turned right, back over 165 and into the woods. WHO knows where Bondo was, and WHO cares. We still had his stupid dog in tow though, unfortunately the high-speed traffic of 165 wasn’t able to put him out of his misery of life with his master.

Trail led north with Basket blowing his horn to ensure the others followed and eventually a check was encountered at a sandy intersection. With Amish getting tricked into going uphill left Basket found true trail right and soon after he, Just John and Amish came upon a “BN” and Bondo, on his bike, at a bridge. Apparently the laziness had progressed from no longer running the hash to not even calling others on to not even looking for the beer. A new lower low for Bondo. A quick trip own a side trail had Basket finding the beer and to all’s surprise tall Smuttenators were inside. If there is anything we’d hear tonight it’s that Smuttenator will mess you up. Just ask Basket, he’ll tell you this wonderful story of being on top of Waterville Valley drinking the stuff. Again, and again.

Strangely, the strong, tasty beer didn’t lead to much singing. It did lead to discussion of Bondo’s feelings now that his wife had left for FL. He proudly stated that he’s still able to please himself to prevent himself “from going without.” That led into discussion on the fake vagina hashit he’d put together that’s now in Ansyc’s (or more likely in his son’s) possession. That led into Basket telling his story of drinking Smuttenators on top of Waterville Valley, again. After completion of most of the first round a horn was heard in the distance, with Basket and Bondo already at the beer check it could only mean on thing – WIPOS. Soon enough he too arrived on bike. Must have had a case of the Bondos. Once all beers had been consumed from the sack, and all hashers had been lubed up quite well an easy walk back to the cars was started. I think. At this point the Smuttenator took hold and the night got good. I think Basket told his story about Waterville Valley, again.

Once back to the cars, and another version of Basket’s Waterville Valley story was told, the circle started in the woods on the outskirts of the parking lot. Everyone agreed that the short trail was a nice change. Everyone agreed that Basket had told his Waterville Valley story about 10 times too many. Everyone agreed that the Smuttenator makes all bad hashes good. Everyone agreed the rating should be +.69. Whoo. After the hare did a down-down accusations for the hashit went around with it finally being stuck to Basket for his lack of control when it comes to keeping storytelling to a minimum.

All set back up 165 and then 95N to exit 6, not 6A, for beers and grub at Rosie’s. A table was found away from the bar crowd which was probably good for both parties. I think, but that damn Smuttenator has removed the reasoning on why. With only one pitcher of Guinness (good thinking Fuwangi) Amish, Fuwangi and Just John watched Basket get woozier and woozier while waiting for the food. After leaving the pisser, Amish was able to watch Basket run in and projectile vomit into the toilet just as the door closed behind him. Embarrassingly, Amish had to explain to the people at the bar that Basket was a member of our group and was now consuming water and that we’d hang out for a bit to let him settle down. Good job old man! WHO knows how long we stuck around after, but soon enough it was agreed we should hop into the cars and head home. Basket assured us that Seamus would take the wheel as he relaxed in the passenger’s seat, an email the following morning confirmed he was alive so Seamus must have done pretty well.

I’m surprised, I’ve always been the type to agree you can’t polish a turd, but that Smuttenator sure seemed to have debunked that myth with this trail!

On On

Amish It Head