We started from Sears’s parking lot in the Woonsocket, Walnut Hill Plaza. Just behind the plaza is the little traveled New England Golf Course trail last set by Iron Man over 8 years ago. After tonight’s hash, I wonder how short it will be before we’re here again? Time will tell.

Oozing, Shine On, WIPOS, Turtle Dust (yep! The Turtle was back…if even for a cameo), and Basket joined the Hare Bondo with his only friends Jake and Ben. It was bloody cold, even for the Ice Box of Rhode Island, and with the wind whipping at over 20 mph, it felt like negative numbers numbing bone and boner. Shine On looking for her Y2K fuck, had a close eye on Jake and Ben, whose fur coat gave enough warmth allowed to have wood still standing. The hare set trail using paper, and shredded red paper at that, in honor of our fallen founding hash master.

The trail led behind the building and along a fence, until the opening under the fence was high enough for us to crawl under. It should also be noted that it was at a particular stream crossing where one had to tread lightly with the snow, ice, and rushing water, lest on fell into the freezing brine.

The pack was stretching out at this time, and Oozing and I found the first major check of the hash. I checked left and didn’t see the pack for another 2 miles of foot plus snow trekking. Oozing led the merry pack on trail. I could hear Oozing’s Doo-wop whistle off in the distance and an occasional blast from Bondo’s Conch Shell, as I paralleled them through fairways, roughs, greens, sand hazards deep with snow, and plenty of briar laden woods. Finally from nowhere came the pack in my direction. Oozing first then the laggards.

I was FRB and justified my bushwhacking ability to sniff out trail. The trail continued along my fairway, as I knew it would. Bondo just had to have his shortcut, as he never runs full length of the trail, and I found it. Just as quickly as the pack joined me, that a new check had them running into the woods. I pursued looking for trail downhill along the fairway, knowing full well Bondo would bring them back to me. As Bondo’s honking and Oozing’s whooping faded in the distance, I ran farther and farther off trail, down deeper into the very bowels of the Woonsocket/Massachusetts line. I finally stopped at briars well over my head, and nothing but the same for as far as I could see. Having not heard a peep from the pack for what seem like hours, I bit the bullet and ran back uphill. Back through the briars, through the snowdrifts, through fields and fairways and fucking snow up my ass, and all uphill.

I finally found the footprints in snow going into the woods and followed them, continuing uphill terminally. I eventually caught the pack as it traveled out to a small street, crossing Diamond Hill and through a little sleepy bedroom community notched into the back hills on Woonsocket. It was another 20 minutes before beer was discovered at Face Douche’s house hidden behind some cars, but the Face wasn’t there to offer us a warm respite from the cold wind.

Beer in hand we started out towards our cars, still a mile or more to finish this Ball Busting, Shit Ass Long Fucking Trail. Bondo had one more trick up his sleeve, as he let the FRB’s travel past this ill-marked trail behind Wal-Mart. Oozing, WIPOS and I caught up with the bastard just as he found safe footing on the cleared lot, and we all made our way out to the cars.

We circled up at Bondo’s garage, and Down-downs were given the Hare for his only really long fucking hash, WIPOS for Hashit (again), and Shine On for not getting the best fare to Betty Ford’s Rehab Hash next month. We then joined Just Big Shit or should I say, Princess Blows Wind in the Pines, upstairs for more Bondo brew and hot chilly. Kudos’ to Bondo for trail, beer, and chilly, and we finally made our way home with bellies full and smiles wide, with the knowledge the "G" would have loved this one.