The d’erections said:

HASH ‘til Your Homeless
Welcome to the largest Tent City in RI.
Plan on an extremely long commute (one hour plus).
Now ask yourself is it truly worth it?
Virgin territory, manicured trials, spring fed lake, abnoxious homeless people, psychotic hare, chitty beer, might be better to wait for next weeks Hash.

Truer (and more Bondo-like) words have never been spoken. Except the bit about the homeless people. Or the Tent City. WHO saw those? Not this scribe. This is what I saw.

Starting from the Buckeye Brook Rd parking area, the pack arrived to find the hare missing. To pass the time and find a spot to take a leak, WHO and Flexi crossed the road south and found some marks. But the hare soon arrived and directed them north. WHO would be stupid enough to listen to the hare. So, when 6:30 rolled around, the entire pack headed north; Flexi already chastising himself.

Trail was on paths with a few checks to the left, but true trail almost always to the right. The hare avoided some fine spots. The canoe launch on the Pawcatuck. The summit of Shumankanuk Hill. The fine trail along the railroad. To mention a few; perhaps inspiring a future hare in this area. Regardless, the pack mastered the first few checks with little effort. But as they turned east, then south, confusion became king.

Basket headed off on his own. Fuwangi tried to keep up with Just Pat. Flexi and Just Spencer led the way, as they crossed Buckeye Brook Road, and entered the North Camp area, and began to bushwhack. Trail turned west again. Finally, trail was found heading south. Of course! The beer check would be on the shores of the Watchaug Pond. Basket, WHO, and Fuwangi, at least should have realized this. Especially WHO, who had seen the on-in marks. Hashit material? WHO could not deny it, later on.

After a few attempts to mislead, the trail led to the shores of the Watchaug Pond. Marks were few, and there was much milling about.The hare showed up, but as usual, was no help. The beach with the obvious spot for a beer check was empty. They turned west along the shores. No marks. East led to falsies. Finally the hare relented and placed a few new marks to lead them to the beer. After an extensive search near the almost invisible “B”, it was finally found.

After a chitty trail, what could be better than a chitty beer. Perhaps a chitty-chitty bang-bang. But there were no bimbos. A few songs were sung, the beer was consumed, and, as twighlight approached, they headed back. Trail was poorly marked. This was an improvement upon the first half. North they went and made it back to the parking area with no losses. Even Basket found his way back.