Trail #1694 on Aug 27 2018<br/>
From: Melville Campground/Smith Rd<br/>
Hares: Rusty and Frosted Fanny<br/>
Weather: Perfect Island Weather! Sunny, cool wind blowing the pleasant aroma of low tide and dead fish. <br/>
Pack: WHO, Basket, WIPOS, Turd in the Beaver, Fecal Venier, Just Pat, YShitoed, Just the Tip, Eticlit, Rear Gunner, Fuck O'the Irish , Crooner Screwer, Crotchy, OOzing, Pussy Galore, Butt Plug, Assquack, Crabby Shag, Just Hutch, Just Kirstin and Ms WIPOS<br/>
Hashit: Basket
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Anticipation of a new location for Rusty was high for a very few of us. WIPOS and Mrs Wipos were parked in the far end of the parking lot that looked more like a landfill. Trees, scrub and piles of dirt lined the parking area Rusty hoped to be his Big New Location. Rusty, Frosted Fanny and WHO were discussing how wonderful the trail was going to be, as Butt Plug, The Tird and I were changing into our Hash Gear. It looked like there'd be a weak showing for Rusty's Big Adventure. There was another car parked there too. It was a group of tree muggles sorting through the debris looking for branches they might be able to fit into their car. They may have been from the campground and were hoping to find some dry kindling to fire up. The pickin's were pretty pathetic and I wished them luck on getting it to burn. Rusty offered us a beer and we took him up on it. Soon a parade of cars came barreling down Smith Road. It turned out to be a good turn out for an island Hash, despite having no previous NH3'ers join us.  <br/><br/>
As 6-tirdy neared, Rusty gave his Chalk Talk. The marks were normal for the RIH3, and despite the usual remarks, from the peanut gallery to confuse and belittle the Hares, it went smoothly. One mark that you usually won't find on a Rusty Hash was the "W" whiskey stop, as Rusty doesn't drink whiskey, it was most unusual. Questions answered adequately, Rusty pointed out towards the first mark. Trail was found going north on the old military roads, but quickly disintegrated into bush along deer trails and worse. The briars of Portsmouth are world renown for tearing flesh from bone and have caused WHO to hit the hospital on Tuesday morning for his weekly transfusion on a regular basis. If you haven't seen his Hash Wounds, you're missing something. A hundred lashes of the whip or caning would do less damage to any normal being. <br/><br/>
I was following PG (WHO would blame me?), bobbing and weaving along narrowing trails, when we came to a check. Continuing along, jumping over a downed tree and skirting thorns, and a bit of crawling, it wasn't long before we found Rusty and FFanny sharing some Newport Storm Frosty Stout, a 6.7 Irish Stout and Frosty Freeze Ice Cream....it wasn't terrible. They also served some Coole Swan Irish Cream Liqueur. It's a blend of Irish Whiskey, White Belgian Chocolate and cream. It was also not terrible and complimented the Frosty Stout nicely. A few songs were sung, but the little buggers were starting to bite and we quickly dispatched the drinks and started out again.<br/><br/>

We were on Check and I went left, joined by WHO, and we quickly found flour, but it seemed that the pack was leaning in a different direction. Soon we were all together again, as we were heading down the main trunk line towards Melville Pond. A check here sent most straight, but I thought I'd go left, crossing the brook feeding the pond, thinking I might short cut to the Beer Stop. Rear Gunner was just behind me as I crossed the brook and stepped up on the opposite bank, only to find myself lying on my back in the muck and mire. Having bruised my ego only slightly, I popped up and continued on the opposite shore. Beer Near was called and we could see much of the pack enjoying beer across the stagnant water. Running along the bank we could hear the pack singing the Asshole song. It must have been for Rear Gunner. Arriving before the DFL's we enjoyed some fine beers, snacks and song, as the last of the pack arrived. Crabby arriving had carried Just Hutch the entire way as she was in training to push out another baby, in a few months. Hubby, Ass Quack politely obliged her. Last in was WIPOS and Y-Shitoed. What they were doing in the woods alone will never be discussed in public. We had a good number of songs on the program and were able to drink a goodly amount of the beer. Just Hutch kept trying to turn Crabby's hair white as he insisted on running down the rip-rap to the water. She caught him a number of times just as he was going to go ass over tea kettle. Ass Quack was amused.<br/><br/>

The way back was straight forward. Back around the pond to where Rear Gunner and I had traversed and back to the cars. The cooler was brought out and circle commenced. Comments were most good for Frosted Fanny and not so much for Rusty. It was clear to most of us that his contribution was somewhat lacking, although I'm sure he provided most of the funds to purchase the goods. We were sure FF provided the intelligence and effort to lay the better part of the trail. The rating was mostly positive, and in strange twist of events, WHO's calculation did not discount the positives and gave it a positive zero. This was, by far, the best rating Rusty's ever had, and must have been the feminine touch, with the drink selection to a lesser degree. Back Sliders, Crabby, Hutch, Y-Shitoed and Just the Tip tried to explain their absence, but failed terribly, and suffered the consequences. A discussion of WHO deserved the Hashit was long and boring. Rusty offered me up for falling into the water, going the long way around the pond, finding myself deep in briars off trail, and a number of other insignificant offenses. I drank and sang, "If I Only Had A Brain."....I should have stayed home. Swing Low and we were off to Localz. A pub in Tiverton that wasn't too terrible. Then we all went home.


The image shows where most of us went<br/>
<img border="0" src="http://dryfootfairy.hypermart.net/Images/rustystrail.jpg" width="300" height="500"/><br/>