Hash #1962<br/>
Date: Oct 2, 2023<br/>
Location: RI woods. Bigfoot territory. Burlingame N trail Head (WHO said Head?) WHO knows, but he wasn't there, so the mystery continues.<br/>
Speaking of mystery, it's a mystery how I avoided certain Death by Owl on trail. But more on that later.<br/>
Hare: Just the Tip.<br/>
Pack: Basket, Rusty, W.I.P.O.S., Oozing and Pat (both of whom arrived late and  spent some QT on the DL by the WV), Pussy Galore.<br/>
Hashit - PG<br/>
Weather: Not raining, for a change.<br/><br/> 

Trail report/recounting/pack of absolute lies:<br/>
So there I was, driving to the back of beyond RI (aka Burlingame) and I began to think this was a really poor decision as I pulled into the parking lot and discovered a Sausage Festival consisting of several servings of Old Man Weiner. The Hare claimed to have set a "short trail" with a slight detour between a Turkey and Eagle, with the Eagle tacking on a "mere .08 of a mile".<br/>
At 6:32 the pack set out.<br/>
Basket was FRB while Rusty and I managed to check literally every false trail possible. Then I ended up at the Turkey/Eagle split. It was nice weather (for a change) and I had driven a fucking heck-ton of miles to get there, so I thought, "what the heck, I'll see what the Eagle has to offer, AFTER ALL ITS ONLY A MERE .08 of a MILE MORE."
Basket looked back at me and said "Im gonna take the T" before scampering off into the gloom, and I thought, 'well, there it is, never follow Basket.'<br/><br/>
So I took the Eagle.<br/><br/>
I am surprised that I lived to tell the tale because this trail was poorly marked, consisting of multiple intersections with no check, no arrow, just basically Choose Your Own Adventure of Slippery Rocks, and it was definitely more distance than .08  miles or .8 miles, whatever the Hare was lying about at the start.<br/><br/>
The trail went over all the rocks in the forest, by the road twice, down hills and through long, dark, and owl-filled groves of trees where the only sound was the aforementioned owls and the constant rustling of woodland creatures in the underbrush. All I could see with the light from my headlamp was tree trunks, leaves, and the glitter of spider eyes. 
As I stumbled along over the mossy rocks regretting all my choices, I realised that this was honestly my own fault. I chose to believe a man on a measurement. How many of my Feminine Comrades have been deceived by men and their inability to accurately measure?? So many. 
For good measure, I twisted both my ankles a few times, so now my foot injury is pissed off again, but at least I didn't die. And I found a nice stick to help me from falling over while I walked through the pain.<br/><br/>

Finally I ended up on parts of the trail that had been marked with checks, but I quickly realized I had seen them before and that I had entered a hellish Circle Jerk of darkness and more owls. After a few more empty intersections I heard "On ON" in the gloom, and at last managed to find the Beer Stop by following the noise, not the marks (of which there were none anyway), where Pat was starting a fire while the rest of the Pack serenaded me with a half-hearted attempt at "Asshole".<br/>
There were stars at the beer stop, but no snacks. After my 6.9 mile Death-Stumble through the woods, not having snacks was a horrible thing.<br/><br/>
We eventually tromped back to the cars where I discovered that Oozing had parked me in so I couldn't even leave early, and ended up with the Hashshit. However, the Hare did offer some already opened and pawed-through trail mix.<br/><br/>

So there was that.<br/><br/>

The End.<br/><br/>

ONON<br/><br/>

PG<br/><br/>