Run #1668, Just the Tip in Copicut Feb 26, 2018<br/>
Weather: All things considering, it ain't too bad, 40ish?<br/>
Hare: Just the Tip<br/>
Start point: Copicut Woods, Westport<br/><br/>

Hounds: Basket, Rusty, Frosted Fanny, Just Courtney, Fineass Cuntsultant, Oboner, Just Suzanne, Just Pat, Crotch Tiger, Anal Gunner, Ass Quack and his little horse, plus The gate guy WHO wanted to lock us in the parking lot and maybe should have before we arrived, for many reasons.<br/><br/>

Tension was building as we parked in the lot off Indian Town Rd, Westport. Fineass was sharing a beer to help relieve our consternation about what this Hare had in store for us. It's been hit or miss in the past, but I thought his last Hash was pretty good. I had a jug of IPA from the Ski Hash in my car and shared that with Rusty. It was dark as we noticed someone walking in from the road. "WHO's in charge here?", he asked. Stepping forward FAC and I tried to explain WHO or what were doing, as he quickly explained he was about to lock the gate on us. Apparently, the last few times we've been here, he's found vehicles parked in the lot after sundown. There is a sign giving the hours the lot is open, but evidently this Hare and the previous few had paid little attention to it. Just the Tip did say, as were wetting our whistles moments earlier, that he found the gate closed in the morning recently and was concerned that we'd be locked in. Evidently, not enough to let someone know we'd be here late. That doesn't always work out as expected, as I've been told that we were not allowed to use the park after dark, and had to find alternative locations.
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Finally given an okay and suggestion to contact the reservation group of about our being here, we started out on trail after a lengthy Chalk Talk. The number of marks was enough for any sane person to decide to head over to the 110 Grill and wait for the pack to join him/her after the Hash. None did, so that must say something about this group. The trail started out southerly, crossing the Indian Town Road, following a trail laden with rocks, puddles of increasing size, with flour dispersed about every half mile or so. The pack stayed together, mostly, until the pack following me, after calling only one "ON!", at the trail head/intersection with Yellow Hill Rd. Seeing no marks, I started back and ran into the pack. Turning around again, back on the road, we were running left and right. Not finding any marks, we all started back to the last check. WIPOS was blowing his horn somewhere. Then I spied the Hare moving away from us. Trail was eventually found going left and the entire pack was back together, at least for the moment. <br/><br/>
Rusty was first to the whisky stop, and found a very small flask of scotch under a "pile of litter", so said the Hare. A few songs were sung as we waited for the entire pack to rejoin the group. The trail thus far, was pretty good, save the distance between marks. Unfortunately, that was about to change drastically. After a short while, back on trail, a check sent us off trail into the bush. The marks were plentiful enough, but the travel became more and more difficult, culminating as we entered 'The Swamp'. The pack was already at the beer stop, as I arrived with Crotchy, Fineass and WHO. A selection of assorted beers was enjoyed, songs sung as we waited for the DFLs to arrive. <br/><br/>
Beers done, we asked the Hare for direction. He said he had run out of flour, but we could get back to the cars by going in a number of directions. Heading back the way we came in did not seem like a good idea, as it was a long slog through briars and marshy ground. The other two options were off to our left, where the Hare said it was longer, but easier ground. Straight ahead was 'much' shorted to the trail in. Rusty led the pack on that direction. We hopped, skipped and jumped over stream and bog, until the depth and breadth of the water was unavoidable. Giving into our predicament, we just barreled on, and soon found the swamp a myriad of channels with moving water. We were now going downstream, then upstream as it meandered along. Ass Q's dog got caught in some briars and was rescued by Fineass, to AQ's gratitude, as he stood on the opposite bank, not wanting to retrace his steps. Eventually, all made it through, with Frosty, her fiend, Just Courtney, and O'Bone'r running sweep.<br/><br/>
Back on trail, re-crossing Yellow Hill for the third time tonight, we were back at the cars. Circling up, the comments ranged from bad, to piss poor, to dangerous, to WTF. I started feeling sorry for the Hare as he took a lot of abuse from the wet, thorn-scratched and dirty Hounds. The virgin, Just Courtney, WHO was invited by Frosted Fanny, thought it was the best Hash she's ever been on. I think FF lost a friend after trying to convince her for a year to join us and telling her how much fun Hashing is. If she wasn't terribly disappointed, I may think twice about FF's friends. Tree backsliders stepped in next and answered my questions in a very Hash-like manner. Virgin drank and sang Rusty's favorite song, "WAAAAA". Hashit was given to me for all the irrelevant reasons. We then made our way to the 110 Grill, passing the gate keeper, WHO had been waiting patiently, in his car, on the street, for us to leave.<br/>
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