If you can believe this<br/>
HashTrash from the Hare sent to The Fat One:<br/>
What a train wreck of a run: <br/>
Basket decided to major league shortcut and finds the beer immediately , while taking the pack with him. BUT they all miss the whisky check. Then it pours like you wouldn't believe. All my checks are GONE. <br/><br/>
I get lost on my own trail. Then Basket decides he knows the way (how would he?) and we further get lost. Then I find trail and the weather breaks. At circle he blames me for everything. Unbelievable...<br/><br/>

Another View of the sad events of the day<br/>
HashTrash from Hazukashii: <br/>
...Getting back to today's trail in Rhode Island... it had been raining all day, after enjoying the past couple weeks of beautiful sunny skies. About two hours before trail it was tapering off, an hour before trail started, the rain had stopped. So things were looking up. A pack of 9 gathered in Diamond Hill Park in the north-eastern corner of the state to enjoy a Mr. Rogers (our hare) trail. From the looks of the park, we were anticipating a fun shiggy trail. Unfortunately, the skies were beginning to darken, and after a quick chalk talk, we were off. Within 5 minutes the rain started again, and continued to gain in intensity until any marks on horizontal surfaces were completely gone, and the vertical marks were fading.<br/>
As the marks disappeared, the pack eventually clustered up again, and fortunately the hare was along for the ride and guided us through trail . . . not THE trail mind you, just along various trails as best he could remember, until we got to the whiskey check, which we picked up and continued on to gather with the rest of the pack at the beer stop. All 9 of us were together once again, and by this point, the rain was just pissing down on us like a cow pissing on a flat rock. We were drenched, and for some odd reason, we just stood there in the rain for like 10 minutes as we all chatted while a couple beers were being consumed. Finally, the absurdity of it all finally dawned on our hare, who then led us back down the hill to the cars. <br/>This is what the previously dry trail looked like at this point . . . <br/>
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1127392637851333<br/><br/>
By the time we reached the parking lot once again, the rain had subsided, and we regrouped and grabbed the cooler for circle. Soaking wet, we went through all the usual infractions, we sang some songs, and laughed at what had taken place. Fortunately it was a warm enough day that the rain was enjoyable, and the whole trail event was a hoot. Great time hashing in Rhode Island. A few of us went on for dinner at a local speakeasy, and all was right in the world.<br/><br/>

And yet another point of view:<br/>
This is The WHOLE truth and nuttin' but from Basket (Hashit)<br/>
It was pissin' rain all afternoon in Burrillville and there was some hope that the Hare would absorb most of the rain before we arrived. As I pulled into Diamond Hill park, there was very little sign of the downpours I'd had just a few miles north. There, the streets were running and puddles everywhere, here nary a damp bit of earth could be found. Mr R/Hym Wrng Gye was talking to WIPOS and sharing a beer with Hairy K. A two timer (self described world travelin') Hasher Hazukashii, PG, Pubic, Cracker and OOzing joined me as we laughed at the Hash goD's that warned us of torrential downpours on the trail. At 6:30 a short chalk talk had us soon heading uphill along the old ski trails, where, back in 1972, I cartwheeled down the headwall and broke my thumb. It was a fond memory for about 2 minutes as I struggled up the increasing incline, then the rain started to fall, slow at first but increasingly more fervent. By the time I reached half way up, it was pouring. The rain washed sand off the rocks and almost made it easier if it wasn't for the sloshing in the mud in between, but it didn't do very much good for the flour we searched in vain for.<br/><br/>
I passed Hairy after he found 2 and checked right. I continued up and, not finding any flour, I looked back at Hairy. He had not found any marks on either side, so he followed me. Cracker was just behind. I passed 2 muggles that were content to walk in the rain and did not say anything as I struggled by. I looked left and right at an intersecting trail, but not seeing any flour, I continued onward. At the very top, still no flour, I went right along the ridge and found the markings of the trail. I called "OnOn!" and continued past the concrete weights that once held the old chair lift lines.<br/><br/>
The marks continued down the back side of the old Diamond Hill Ski area to the old Ski Valley area. I found a Beer Near mark spelled BN backwards, so retracing my steps I found the Beer Here sign and the beer. It was neatly hidden behind one of the concrete weights. Calling Hairy and Cracker on, we opened the beer bag and I found a 16 oz Captain's Daughter for my troubles. Rusty would have been droolin'...but alas, he missed the night, probably snuggling in with Anhow's Yer Bush with a 12 oz'er of his own. <br/><br/>
Since I had convinced the Hare to bring whiskey to toast Booty's mom's passing, I left the two and travelled downhill in what was now reminding me of the monsoons of Viet Nam. With my 16 oz'er in hand, I followed the rocky trails in search of the pack and the Whiskey Stop. I met Pussy just below the summit and told her beer was at the top. She, intelligently, went in that direction. I continued slippin' and slidin' downhill. I soon met Pubic and just afterward the Hare. He was looking like a wet rat and was wondering where the pack disappeared. WIPOS was waiting at the next intersection, and we could hear our visitor faintly calling "RU?" uphill from us, through the roar of rain hitting tree and trail. At a 3 way intersection, we met Hazukashii pulling a bag containing West Cork Irish Whiskey. Thinking we should share it with the rest of the pack, we hauled it uphill towards the Beer Stop and the remaining pack.<br/><br/>
We clawed our way up the many runnels of water to a fenced-in water tower. Not remembering it being here the last time we Hashed here, I went downhill and followed trails back up the other side. Most followed WIPOs as he worked eastward along the fence to the top of the old ski area, where we were all together once again.<br/>
<img border="0" src="http://rih3.com/Images/waterfall.jpg"/><br/>
<br/>There we opened the whiskey and toasted Booty's mom in the deluge. Nobody even tried to get out of the rain. Hairy said a steady stream was running off his hat, going down the middle of his back and flushing out his arse crack. PG questioned us on how much fecal matter may be accumulating in his shiggy shoes. Whatever it was, it was sure to be rinsed out on our way back to the cars as we carried our beers and strolled downhill. <br/><br/>
We Circled up at a table in the woods just below the retention pond and park facility building. As we were rating the run, we could not miss a large amount of bubbles floating towards us as the rain now started to subside. Some guy heard our singing and invited us to join him with his bubbles. We politely acknowledged his offer but declined. The run was rated well for water and beer, but since most of the marks were on the ground, there were few to be found once the rain started in earnest. Despite that, it was rated better than it should have at negative 6.9. Next visitors and backsliders drank, with Huzukashii singing the parts of a woman. Then Hashit, and as was expected the person WHO should have received it, The Hare, did not. Instead it fell to me for shortcutting to the Bear Stop, Bringing the Whiskey Stop to the pack at the BS, while getting, somewhat, lost because the Hare did not put flour on trees and nobody could have followed that trail. I drank and sang "There was an old lady WHO lived on my street." After religion, a few made their way to Adelines Speakeasy for some noch and brews. Despite the Hare's attempt to sabotage the RIH3 once again, we made it a memorial event. <br/>
Here's to the Hounds, Fuck the Hare.<br/>
Basket