Sacred Altars of Tiverton Hash

Run: #840 June 3, 2002
Hare: The Slasher Dr. WHO
Where: Tiverton
Scribe: WIPOS
Weather: sunny, 70s
Present:  Async, Oozing, Bondo Jovi, Basket Boom Boom, Baxter, Ben, Jake.
On On On Crashers: EverReady, KNO, Just some other guy

The Run:

Scribe’s disclaimer: I wasn’t really there, but Dr WHO described the run to me in such detail (while he was doing my colonoscopy) that I feel like I ran the whole thing and even had a little poison-ivy rash develop on my left ankle where the kevlar seals have been leaking lately. Anyways, Dr WHO would never lie or exaggerate. So this account is guaranteed to be completely accurate.

Async, Bondo and Oozing joined the hare off Fish Road in Tiverton in front of Monique’s Pet Salon (and Pubic Hair Stylist). Promptly at 6:30, they were off across the pavement west onto an abandoned dirt road leading to an abandoned campground. A few checks were easily dispatched and the trail followed off the road into the woods. What a great trail it was! Just the right mix of briars and underbrush, leading into a really smelly swamp. And the flour had been placed so carefully that the pack was forced to stay together. Async commented that it doesn’t get any better than this. But I don’t want to embarrass the hare.

From the swamp the trail led south along an overgrown path that the hare had carefully trimmed with a machete. Then it turned back across the swamp, now a small stream, and led out to another path. The hashers had never seen such consideration from a hare before. Meanwhile back at the start, Basket had arrived. His vision was particularly bad this day, but the term ‘blind luck’ was coined with him in mind. He stumbled onto the road to the campground, blew blindly through the checks, missed two false trail “X”s, and ran straight to the beer check. He sat disconsolate. Lonely Basket! “Why doesn’t anyone like me?” he wondered. The mosquitoes fed well.

On trail the hashers were having the time of their lives. West to a check, north up a dried-up streambed, they ran. Async and Oozing led the way. There was so much flour! The hare hung back to make sure that Bondo was enjoying himself as well. The distant echoes of “F*ck this sh*t!” and “The hare’s a f*ckin’ a**hole!” were certain proof of Bondo’s approval. By the time the group reached a dirt cliff leading to a construction area, Bondo had provided the run with a well deserved 47 F*ck rating as he climbed the steep slope. A few more brilliant and innovative checks and the group headed back into the woods. This trail was the best!

At this point unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse. At least, temporarily. Like the sound of the rotting boards of the outhouse toilet seat creaking before they break and collapse into the pit, a bugle was heard in the distance. Basket had become ashamed at missing what he knew must be the trail of the year, and had set off to try and follow the trail backwards. Poor Basket! He didn’t get very far. Luckily, Async and Oozing came upon him before he became irretrievably lost. The group straggled uphill through a small pool of standing water and mud to the beer check. This was an overgrown pagan altar, a circle of mystic stones on a ridge above a deep valley. [This was the site where the virgins of Tiverton were subjected to ritual sacrifice, and had been allowed to go to ruin when Tiverton (almost immediately) ran out of virgins.] The mystic forces at play were almost palpable.

The hare had provided flowing quantities of fresh-crafted beers: a porter and an IPA. The beauty of the spot was breathtaking. The trail was described to Basket in glowing terms, and you could almost hear Basket’s crest falling. Sad Basket! When all had drunk their fill, the trail was resumed, heading north along the ridge and then cleverly down to another dried-up streambed. Back up the steep hill east through dappled woods of maple and pine, they followed the well-marked trail. Their hearts filled with joy as they ran. They came out of the woods into a field, and then through a parking lot, down a short driveway back to Fish Road and the cars. What a fantastic way to finish!

The circle was held behind Monique’s in a clearing. Ratings were of course outstanding: even with no bimbos, the group was effusive. “Well done, indeed!” said Async. “Bravo!” said Oozing. “This f*cking s*cked!” said Bondo. Basket hung his head in shame. Bad Basket! Hashit went to Oozing because Basket was too obvious and was suffering enough anyways.

The on on on was none other than the Li’l Bear Lounge. The group was joined by EverReady and KNO, who had brought a friend who listened to the tales of the hash with ill-concealed envy. The group moved outside, where the hare thoughtfully provided warm clothing for anyone who was chilled by the slightly cool evening breezes. A beautiful sunset over Mount Hope Bay, pizza from Tiverton’s own Famous Pizza restaurant, and pitchers of beer from the lounge, refilled from the trunk of the hare’s car made for the perfect end to the perfect hash. At least this is how Dr WHO described it to me.

On On

WIPOS