Bondo's Black Hut Hash (Edited Edition)
Run #1167, August 11,
2008
Hare: Bondo Jovi
Location:
Black Hut Reservation, Burrillville
Weather: 70, Overcast with light rain.
Present: :WHO, Basket, Wee Balls, Oozing, Just Max, Just Margaret, WIPOS. Visitor: Just Patty,. Hounds: Ben, Patty's Pup: Jake! Search Party: Short Peck, Just Big Shit and Dog Meat (Ed. Note: If searching means watching Men's Gymnastics while eating Dynamites and drinking beer, then yes, this was the search party.)
The Run: The Long Dark Trail
A story of a heroic adventure with the Rhode Island Hash House Harriers, as told by the only one person on earth able to recount the true and exciting facts of the ‘Night at Black Hut’. You will surely hear other versions of the event told by, you know, WHO, but only one person was there with Ben, alone, in the dark night. (Ed. Note: Five commas in one sentence. Not Bad! WHO else would do that!)
We start our story with a short background of the area.
Black Hut covers a total land area of 2049 acres. The area is composed of primarily forest land (deciduous 1815 acres, evergreen 3.2 acres), wetlands (201 acres), and agricultural lands (14.6 acres). The DFW maintains a wildlife marsh (approximately 30.7 acres) which serves to attract waterfowl, furbearers such as muskrat, and other wetland dependent birds. There are a number of trails that traverse the reserve, and all are cautioned to mark their way well, as they are mostly used for hunting and wind endlessly throughout with no signposts or directional help.(Ed. Note: Talk about winding endlessly...)
This area has been used by the Rhode Island Hash for its Monday night forays on a number of occasions in the past. Most recently, Oozing on Run 1099 on Aril 23, 2007, with Basket out of town, a rare day when he misses a hash, but nothing much happened on this date. Even more memorable, a hash by Eenie Weenie Dick on January 15, 2007 on a snow covered trail that resulted in the entire pack being lost and only by sheer luck and WHO's compass did they make their way out unscathed.
Bondo was alone in the parking lot, at the end of Spring Lake Rd, as I arrived at 6:20. He said he would set off to drop off the beer. Moments later we were joined by WHO and Tinker, and discussions of a small pack ensued. Tinker joined Bondo, WHO said he needed help carrying the beer and WHO and I waited for another 20 minutes, as we were joined by Oozing, Just Margaret, Eenie Weenie, Wee Balls, returnee Matt (Ed. Note: That would be, i believe, Just Max.) and virgin Patty. (Ed. Note: I don't care to speculate as to Just Patty's virginity (although I am more than willing to investigate), but she is in fact, a visitor.) Patty had seen our marks the previous hash in Uxbridge, and found our website for directions. WIPOS showed up just as we started out.
Trail led north then westerly along the main trail that would eventually make its way to the other end of Spring Lake Rd, venturing near the Mass line. A few checks put the pack off in a few directions, but I continued along the main trail, and called the pack on. The next check would send me southerly, along a smaller trail that wound briskly between trees and puddles left over from the storm that dropped 4 inches of water. Many of the older marks were washed out, so I continued straight hoping to find a sign that I could call the pack on. Soon I heard WHO’s whistle and a few OnOn’s along the main trail. I pursued my direction, knowing that we would either make our way to Spring Lake, the directions I was generally heading, or somewhere in the woods off to my right. (Ed. Note: The above paragraph would seem to the uninformed to imply that Basket actually had a clue as to what he was doing. Nothing could be further from the truth. Reading between the lines, it is clear that he was blundering along, starting at shadows and following little bits of quartz, thinking they were flour. Too bad that whistle is so damn loud!)
It’s been a while since I rode horses with my daughter and friend in this area. Jody rode on a quarter horse she raised from a foal, Chip was on Lady, and I rode a appaloosa named Oreo. He was a gelding of 15 ½ hands and a real challenge when Lady was in heat. The trails back then were less engraved, and mostly small deer trails. The area was once a source of granite, with a number of quarries mined in the early settling of the area, supplying the construction of the town hall, bank and many of the richer families’ farm houses. Some of these quarries were now filled in with water, and resembled more a green algae bloom of stagnate water then the industrious activities presented back then. The old blocks, that were not hauled away, were left strewn in piles throughout the area. Some at the top of long drops into the pond, and others just left to be covered by the forest. (Ed. Note: No. This one is just too damn easy!)
I could hear Bondo’s horn off in the distance, and bushwhacked towards the pack. As I got closer, I could see the lake through the trees and new at once that the beer stop would be at the old Girl Scout Camp along the shore. Oozing was off to my left as we both converged upon an arrow pointing towards the noisy pack, now cooling itself in the water.
The beer was held in small 12oz plastic bottles, formally used for Poland Spring water, and floated just off shore about 6 feet from the edge. Not wanting to soil the water with my dirty shirt and shorts, I place them upon a nearby rock and dove in for some refreshment. (Ed. Note: Read "...I place them upon a nearby rock so I can be naked in front of some girls. Whoopee!")
A number of songs were begun, as we watched Ben and Patty’s dog enjoy the respite from the run. There used to be a rope swing here, but only a stump remained. The tree was taken down by the previous property owner, to insure against drinking hooligans getting themselves hurt. The water was fairly shallow here and strewn with large boulders just inches under the surface. If one did not swing out deep enough, it would not end happily with the opportunity to break bones or worse. (Ed. Note: As if there was any chance that Basket could distinguish one part of the pond from another!)
The beer finished, we continued on trail on a northerly heading until trail ended at one of those quarries. I went over the top and could hear the pack just behind me. There were no marks, but I knew there would be a road to my right if I went to the north end of the lake, or I could make my way to one of the trails to the north/west that led back to the parking lot. (Ed. Note: If he really "knew" all this, do you think he would have felt the need to do this interminable write-up?)
Bondo brought the pack through the brush on the left, and I could hear his horn sounding as he went to find another trail. As I attempted to follow, Ben came around the hill from the south and followed me. It wasn’t long before his heavy breathing gave me cause for alarm. It was just a short time agao that Seamus sounded just the same way, and he died of heat stroke. We were in high grass and thorny briars, and Ben was constantly getting caught on them. I’d have to go back and pull him through, cutting my legs in the process, but with little concern for my own well being. (Ed. Note: What a lover of dogs! Does that suggest anything to the reader? Perhaps romance was in the woods that night!)
The sun set early, as the clouds and deep foliage quickly filtered what light remained. Without a light and having to go back for Ben a number of times, I found myself turned around and lost. I knew if I continued in one direction, I would eventually hit a road or trail that would lead us out, so I trained my sights on one tree, off in the distance against the night sky. Ben would get caught again, and by the time I got back to him, the tree I had focused on was undistinguishable from the rest. Total darkness fell quickly. (Ed. Note: And it doesn't help if you're half blind to begin with.)
We came upon a small quarry, where Ben could go in to cool off. As he swam, I pondered the thought of being out here all night. Even though he was panting heavily, he would not rest and continued running around in circles. I decided that rather than have him lost again, I would continue moving and hope to find a trail in the darkness. I reached down for his collar to keep him in tow, but I was constantly hit in the head with branches and tree trunks in the dark, as I bent over holding him tightly. There were a number of those granite blocks in this area, and not a few fallen trees that needed to be scrambled over. Each time, I had to relocate Ben and continue on. I took one step that found my shoe in thin air and I tumbled head over heals into a small pit lined with granite. Luckily I braced my fall with my hands and saved myself some serious injury. My foot made a popping sound, as I twisted forward and landed on my right knee. As I stood up, I knew something was wrong with my left foot in serious and blood was running down from my knee, but I had to find Ben again before moving on. (Ed. Note: Could be a title for the movie version of this write-up: "My Left Foot in serious.")
I called him a few times and could hear him whining off in the distance. It was a little while before I found him stuck again in briars, but I remembered I had a red ribbon tied to my horn from the Christmas Hash. I used this as a leash to keep Ben near and we continued looking for a trail. (Ed. Note: Most of us never go anywhere without a nice piece of red ribbon. As well as some rouge, some Midol and an extra maxipad.)
I had been blowing my horn constantly, as I was sure I would have the pack looking for me by now. They would have gone back to my house for some beer and food, thinking I would make my own way out, as I usually do. (Ed. Note: Again, do I really need to comment here?) But this time, with darkness blinding any sense of direction, a very painful left foot (in serious), thick underbrush, a dog that kept me from keeping a straight course (sure, blame the dog!) and a very large unforgiving forest, was more than even I could master(bate). I thought that may have traveled farther into the forest (?) , away from the road and they couldn’t hear my horn. Every step brought pain to my foot and Ben kept pulling me off balance and around unseen trees causing me to fall over and over again.
We had been moving downhill, in hopes of finding the lake, as I knew there would be a road that lined the circumference on two thirds of it. After what seemed like an hour, I only managed to find marshy ground and briars so thick I could not manage through it, especially with Ben in tow. I decided to go back up to higher ground and hope to make my way back on some trails where I may be able to see something in complete darkness. (Ed. Note: He must mean that with altitude he would gain mystical super-powers that would allow him to see in complete darkness. Or maybe not.) Being completely blind in the woods is not a very safe activity.(Ed. Note: This is a true statement. Perhaps Basket should follow his own advice and get himself a seeing-eye dog.)
I continued for quite a while and after blowing my horn, once again, there was a return sound. It sounded like an “On On” was muffled off in the distance through the trees, to my left. I had been hearing a number of noises, mostly rain dancing off the canopy falling in the leaf carpet, Ben's relentless panting, and the hum of nature in the night. I wanted to be sure before changing direction yet again, so I blew my horn loundly. Again the call came back somewhere out from the din. (Ed. Note: "...the din." I believe he is referring to some part of the forest where mystical super-powers are conspicuously absent.)
We continue towards each other; me blowing my horn, trying to keep Ben in tow and the voice at the other end of the black night. I finally found myself out of deep brush and on some kind of trail, but in the dark it was not easy to stay on it. I kept having the retrace my steps backward to try and sfind the path, as I moved in the general direction of the other person in the woods. (Ed. Note: Spell-check and Grammar-check are handy tools.)
Off in the distance a small light was seen through the trees, so I moved in that direction, bushwhacking, with little regard for the path. I knew the pack had found me, or so I thought. It was Oozing, alone, with an extra light for me that barely reached to light my feet. But I was thankful and hopeful that the ordeal would soon be over. I asked him if the rest of the hash was looking for me, and he explained that he left them at my house, as they were too busy eating to go out and look for me. (Ed. Note: What's more stupid than getting lost by bushwhacking after dark without a flashlight? How about heading off into the woods alone to find someone bushwhacking after dark without a flashlight.) I asked if he had the time and he said it was 10:40pm. (Ed. Note: It was in fact 10:40 PM. In Greenland.)Then I asked if he knew which trail to follow, and he said sure. He had laid trail himself here and could find our way back to the cars. (Ed. Note: Trusting Oozing is as safe as working with tame animals. Just ask Siegfried and Roy.)
Ten minutes later, we crossed the same path we had been when we first met. We were going in circles, and the night would not end quickly for me. The small light I had was useless and I had to keep near him to see the boulders that kept popping up from the ground. (Ed. Note: These. of course, are the infamous Burrillville Mexican Jumping Boulders. Very dangerous!) Every step brought pain shooting through my foot, and as I stumbled on the rocks, I would almost fall over.
Oozing tried every direction, only to wind up where we had been previously. (Ed. Note: If he tried every direction, obviously we wouldn't be suffering through this write-up for so long, now would we?) We continued this until we heard another horn blast behind us. The Rhode Island Hash had its full of food and drink, and tired of watching the USA female gymnastic floor routine. They were in second place behind the Chinese, but the girls had made a few minor mistakes that may cost them the gold.
The Chinese had trained their athletes early. Taking them as young as 3 years old an placing them in barrack like schools to develop their specialty. Many had no family life or children’s play, and all was sacrificed for the good of the state. It’s no wonder they have accumulated so many first place finishes, but at what price? I would rather the US not win than force our children to give up their innocence. Evidently the pack had tired of seeing red at the games too. (Ed. Note: I think it should be clear by now that more than two or three beers went into the creation of this write-up.)
We were all together on trail, led by Wee Balls and Just Margaret, with Tinker, Just Matt, Just Patty and the others all behind them. We made our way back to the cars, where Short Peck had called 911 and informed the police that I was lost in the forest and were searching for me. They said they would respond if we need their help. He called to say I was okay, and then called Dog Meat, WHO and the rest of the RIH3. We were on our way home. (Ed. Note: This sadly belittles the well-coordinated and carefully planned rescue effort mounted by Tinker, Wee Balls and WHO. But that's OK as they're pretty embarrassed that they made the effort in the first place.)
Circle was ensued and the Hare finally got his Down Down at 11:25. Virgin and 2 Timer were next, followed by Hashit. There were many WHO thought I should get it, but since Oozing showed so much singular compassion and got lost himself, he wound up with it. I received a DD for keeping Ben out after dark. With morning not too far off, the pack made its way home, and I finally sat to devour what little scraps were left on the table.
You may hear other interesting and funny reports of the adventure in Black Hut, but this report is here for all to know WHO ate and drank while the world wondered, "Where the Hell is Basket?" (Ed. Note: If anyone has made it all the way to this point reading this, I say "GET A LIFE!" )
OnOn
Basket