The Hopeless Roll Back Hash
Run #1492, Nov 3, 2014
Hare: Basket Boom Boom
Location: Boyden Heights Conservation Area, E.Providence, RI
Weather: Full Moon and lovely
Present: Dr. WHO, Fecal Veneer (aka: Who Wants My Johnson), Sleeping Booty, Just PJ, Rusty, OOzing, Bondo, Buddy, Amish, WIPOS, Just Kasey, Just Emily, Apacalips Now (aka: Next Week), Glutenless Maximus (aka: Cat Scratch Fever, Pussy Ivy), Just Lauren, the Klingon, Ass Quack, Crotch Tiger,
Visitor: Public Enema (RGH3)
Backslider: Beyond Hope
Virgin: Just 'another one from GM' (forgot her name)
Hashit: Sleeping Booty
Sleeping Booty wants to do this Hash Trash, so we'll give her some time to put thought to paper. I wanted to write down some notes before I forget...you know how I forget things. So until she puts her thought's up, here's a few of my own.
It was a beautiful night for a jog along the water, great beer stop and single malt stop, almost a full moon glistening off the water, with a view of the port of Providence and city beyond, plus entertainment by the tug guy and the Grand Pioneer Container Ship. The trail through the Boyden Heights nature preserve and Squantom Woods was perfectly laid with just the right amount of shiggy, bull briar and varied terrain for everyone, except Bondo, WHO 'vanted to be alone', and chose to go down to the bike path. Tuning left, he went to an quiet whisky stop; instead of right to, and possibly the best beer stop all year. Bondo, as we all know, loves to go off by himself, leaving early, and finding himself in the best company. He also likes to walk along paved roadways. He did not find the whisky, as it was on my back.
There were many checks and opportunity for the pack to stay together, and the Hare did an excellent job of doing just that. We all arrived together, less Bondo, at the main driveway of the Squantum property and encountered the private security. The guard stepped out of his van and questioned the group of runners crossing the road. I had just arrived when he asked what was going on. "We're looking for Bondo," I replied, and after acknowledging our problem, he drove off.
I'm not sure WHO was FRB, but just after leaving the guard, Glutenless Maximus complained that he could not find any marks, and asked me if we were on check. I just said follow the marks, and if he had looked at his feet would have seen an arrow, followed by more arrows uphill. A check was encountered at the next intersection and took a left into the parking lot. More flour was found on a trail leading north towards Kettle Point. This 40 acre site was approved, last year, for over 400 housing units on what was once an Arco/Amoco oil storage tank field, is currently a great place for deer ticks. I picked up 3 last week and just found two of them attached to my back and right buttock on Sunday, so check your cracks and crevices carefully. This is a public service announcement of the RIH3.
After leaving the small parking area at the Squantum Woods State Park, off the Vet's Memorial Pkwy, we ran to the fence around Kettle Point, with a few finding their way through the fence and into Tick Field. WIPOS was one of those, but he chose to continue on despite the calls of "OnOn" on the other side. The remainder made our way easterly to the bike path then north to Cranberry Island and the Beer Stop.
The BS was at the very tip of Cranberry Island, directly across from a tug boat that was positioning The Grand Pioneer, a car carrying container ship into position. It was a grand show orchestrated by the Hare. Beer was a fantastic selection of: Torpedo, Double Bag and Smutty IPA, as well as a glutenless IPA for GM. Many songs were sung until the boat show and beer were finished, then back on trail. As we made our way out, Just Lauren slipped on a rock and twisted her ankle, but she continued on trail like a trooper. As the Hare explained in the Chalk Talk, there were no marks laid until after the bridge, so as to keep the pack together, and that it was a really really short trail of just over 2 miles. But Bondo had a mind of his own. He found the marks and went to the Check Back 8 then back to the Whisky Stop and finding nobody, went back to the cars. The pack found the marks, as explained by Basket, and the speedy ones found the CB8. Everyone found the 'W' and enjoyed a fine Islay Single Malt. More songs were sung, and Just Lauren, a grade school music teacher so she's a professional, commented on how well we stayed in tune and was very impressed. We stayed until the bottle was finished and then it was back on trail.
It was a CB4 to the trail that led up to Waterview Avenue and Beyond Hope's House, and then onto the circle. The circle was originally on the pier overlooking the pond in the nature conservatory, but moved to the marshland adjacent to the pond by almost unanimous decision. Bondo, the Klingon, OOzing and a few others stayed on the pier. OOzing finally relented and joined us after finishing his beer and looking for another. Bondo had his own beer and shared it with his stogie sharing pal and others dockside. Kudos and high marks were given by all, except WHO and OOzing. I fear there was a bit of jealousy in their comments. Bondo gave it an 11 fuck rating and overall it got a positive .69, though that was slightly adjusted by, you know, WHO. Basket sang, 'If I only had a brain.' Beyond Hope got a DD for backsliding and sang, 'I'm a Wanker', and promised to be back before the next 12 years passed us by. The virgin received her DD and had help from Rusty in her song.
We then traveled to the Riverside Tavern. On the way, Just Emily drove past the restaurant and turned around, twice, eventually driving over the curb to attempt to find the parking lot. One of EP's finest saw the irregular diving and stopped her, asking where she was headed. She explained her destination and asked JE if she was sure she wanted to go there, as it had a bad reputation and tried her best to change her mind. She still had her headlamp on and the cop was inquisitive. "I'm going to meet my running club, and we were running in the dark." Still unsure, the officer let her proceed. The beer was good and food adequate. Evidently it was a slow night at the pub, because we saw no need for concern. Beer and food consumed, it was back to our homes. For Hopeless, it was a short hop and a promise we'd see him again. I hope he doesn't wear those tight 1980's spandex again. That's all I got.
Boyden Heights Hash Trail