Run #1545 on November 9th 2015
Fisherville Brook Wildlife Refuge, Exeter
Hares: Sister Sauna Snatch and Etti Clit
Weather: Dark and a little chilly, but one soon warmed up.
Pack: Donkey, Pubic, Crotch Tiger, Basket, Chicken Man Eh, Last of the Spread Cheekins (formerly Flounder Pounder) Oozie, WHO, WIPOS, Rusty, Crabby, AQ, Just Heidi, Amish, Fecal & Just Mike(?) Hashit: Rusty

We met at one of the darkest spots in RI when we gathered at the Fisherville Brook Wildlife Refuge parking lot, it was one of those lots surrounded by trees and when you gazed skywards the trees formed a frame around the sky, alas there were no shooting stars as we were off Island again. Little did some of us know but we were about to go to a an even darker spot, the grave of Mercy Brown who, by all accounts, was a Vampire back in the late 1800’s (google it).

The hares car was in the parking lot but no sign of them until about 15 mins before trail started, they came from the bush and opened their cooler to the waiting crowd. WHO was waiting for a beer as was everyone else. A few beers were opened and then we saw a light coming from the road towards us, was it a neighbor? No, it was Flounder Pounder and he had missed out on Chicken Man Eh’s piece of insider info about not taking Sunderland Rd unless you had a serious off road vehicle.

The hares explained the marks, the pack got bigger and then we were off. Not seen at the start and seen for the first time at the beer stop were WIPOS, Crotchy, Donkey, & Pubic. There were many checks and false trails and then we came to the spot where lights could be seen at the end of the pond to our left, the pack was making its way around the pond ignoring the lights. Crabby decided to take the long route and the rest followed, this brought us to the W stop at the cemetery where the aforementioned Mercy is buried. A bottle of Fireball was introduced, a toast was made and Basket went in search of the actual headstone. A few ditties were sung and we were on our way again.

The beer stop was a short distance away and sucking down the beers were the short cutters that had arrived late, even beating the infamous WHO to the beer stop. Orange food was passed about, an irreverent rendition of tidbits from every song in the hash hymnal went around as Basket gazed skywards and wondered what Ian Cumming would think of such behavior. Donkey presented a graphic story about his insides, WHO said it was all hogwash and we motored on to the end of trail.

Comments on the run were generally positive, the beer was reported to be “adequate” and DD’s were given to the hares for dragging us to such a dark and notorious spot. The mathematical total was around a positive 6.9 and we look forward to another trail from the Sisters. Several people had missed three in a row, there was no two timer. Next came the hashshit, the usual culprits were named, voted upon, and almost given the illustrious award but following on a self nomination it was given to Rusty. His explanation was that he was going to nominate Crotchy for hugging and rubbing crabbies buns, but upon reflection he decided that that was actually acceptable hash behavior and rather than subject everyone to a vote he took it on the chin.
OnOn till the beer runs dry!