Run #1614: Valentine’s Prelube to Fornication XC Hash
Time: 6:30 pm
Date: February 13, 2017
Hare: Basket Boom Boom
Start: 40 Breakneck Hill Rd, Lincoln, RI
Pack: Rusty, Tird in the Beaver, Just Molly, Just Pat, Buttplug, Crotchy, Oozing, and a late long lost WIPOS
Hashit: Tird in the Beaver
We should have known this was f@cked from the start when Hairy and LB fled to Canada to avert having to set a snow hash. Thankfully Basket skied up to the plate, and between sessions of peeping into the local YMCA kids’ swim sessions, he was able to leave behind some of his unfinished beers for trail sustenance. Even getting to the hash was an endeavor itself, and was probably the reason that the hordes of RI hashers became lost and were ultimately unable to find the start to this balmy and relaxing evening ski. Rusty was seen wandering through Blackstone, 15 minutes prior to the start, frantically calling fellow hashers for clarification of this obscure and infrequently visited start of trail.
Surprisingly all the hashers save for Buttplug and Tird knew to bring ski/snowshoe gear. Buttplug, in striving to achieve ‘Hawaiian-shirt & shorts in winter’ persona was going to attempt the run in 112 year old running shoes, but was saved by Oozing who upon return from Canada, had extra trekking gear in foresight of a northern wall being built over the weekend. Against all odds, the trail would take us north into the unknown hills of Blackstone, skiers and snowshoers alike would realize they were shiggy-bound and not entering the groomed safety of Lincoln Woods. Basket’s haring immediately showed his efforts whence we came upon a check, which had but one set of leaving trail, with the other directions of obviously unbroken snow. Maybe these brain-teasers would ultimately delay the arrival of WIPOS. We would learn later that these seemingly useless ‘checks’ would actually signify the shortcutters’ way; something only those seasoned hashers, who’ve run as many trails as they have days left standing, would’ve known to lookout for.
The trail had its ups and downs, consistently wet snow, however noteworthy though was the crusty tip which made plowing through it more dangerous than it looked, something all hashers should be quite familiar with. At one point the hare had set through a streambed which was immediately followed by an uphill, tight squeeze through a rock crevasse. This definitely posed a challenge. Oozing stymied by the rock climb decided to wait it out until the fear of WIPOS finding him would give him the power to overcome the obstruction.
Rusty’s shortcutting would pay off for all but him. He decided to check out the back-nine of the YBF while the rest of the pack would catch him at the next short-check. Almost to the beerstop, Buttplug and Basket were thrown off by a false ‘X’ on trail. Although Basket set the trail, and explicitly exclaimed there were no false trails, his confusion was most probably attributed to his increasing Alzheimer’s. For Buttplug there would be no excuse.
Upon reaching the beer stop, Rusty was able to quickly find the backpack full of shit beer which was placed directly in the ski trail. What would prove more difficult would be finding the bag full of orange food (slightly not orange enough), which was resting directly upon the beer bag, and so, significantly more hidden. When Basket reached the beer stop he immediately tried to ram his long hard rod into someone, anyone’s face, he even toppled over in an effort to do so. A Tird in the Beaver proceeded to take his beer as he floundered in the snow, but upon realizing it was also shite, he opted to pour a little on Basket’s head. Songs were sung, some would be sung again at the circle, and Oozing would eventually show up unscathed.
For the on-out Basket had prepared a shortcut, that conveniently went by the preteen swimming session again, and after a few cold ones, Rusty thought he’d take a peak as well. Although they successfully bypassed much of the trail, Just Molly was fast on their heels and again trying to catch a ski up her butt. It was on the out-trail which many of us first learned of WIPOS sightings. Try as we must in evading him, he eventually found trail, and was able to get directions to the circle.
At the circle, Basket was commemorated for his efforts in getting the pack onto some decent XC Skiing trails. Sine we all knew WHO was not there, the calculation of the hash rating was somewhat mathematically incorrect and yet Basket was awarded a positive 3.0 rating. (WHAT?) Crotchy would take a liking to Just Molly, and distracted her from joining in the backsliders’ down-down, which we know she deserved. After more songs, and a controversial verse, repeated from Just Pat’s past caroling at a Boston hash, Rusty decided to cut the circle short, proclaiming he’d had one too many sticks in his face that night (or maybe it was his arse), and we would crawl from the woods to find the ON-IN.
WIPOS having not had enough beer on trail opted to take the ski run from the circle back to the car to get a rise out of himself. Unfortunately the, drop-in was the crux, followed immediately by a continuous section of consolidated asphalt. It appeared as though he got less of a rise and more of a fall. This could be why he forewent the ON-IN, but it may have had more to do with a craving for green peppers and poutine, neither of which the Lodge would have on this particular night.
At the Lodge we discussed the upcoming Ski Hash at Rumney, whether it would be better for Just Molly to Just Piss or Just Shite in Fat One’s house, and whether Oozing’s reluctance to carry proper identification during this Trump-Administration era was an effort to get a free ride back to Pakistan. Rusty complained he still hasn’t seen his mug, most were in agreement, we’d be happy if we didn’t see his mug again either. Crotchy unveiled her plans of leaving her current job, and opening up a delicatessen and cake shop. Now it seems all of the remaining ‘happy’ hashers will have to become ‘unhappily ever after’ by summers’ end in order to support this new venture.