The Lewis and Clark Expedition Memorial Hash

Run: #862 November 4, 2002
Hare: Async and his trustworthy GPS
Scribe: Oozing
Hashers Present: Async, Oozing SD, DrWHO, Basket, Bondo, WIPOS, and Trail SYSEB Hoover and the mismanagement duo of Jake and Ben.
Hashers Absent: Everready the Beaver-in NYC looking for an occupation in Times Square after she exhausted the "other" oldest proffesion in RI; KNO-hoping to get in on the action for free; Fwaqngi Boner-altho' methinks(no this will not turn into a DrWHO/Shakespeare penned diatribe) came to the run and is still looking for marks and has now drifted over to Connecticut where he believes the chicken wings are from real chickens; and Tinker who is busy laying another long trail and so had no time for a run; and as for PW-well, he actually drove out of Wickford last week, hit 95 south and kept driving. Rumour has it he's still driving down south in search for a bigger dig.

Start: off 44W before Cady's Tavern.

The Run: it was during this week in Nov in the year 1805 that the "Corps of Discovery" completed their 8000 mile journey. Their mission was threefold:1. find the NW passage, 2: announce American sovereignty to the natives in the midwest and 3: to document the unknown flora and fauna.

To commemorate this achievment, Async embarked on his own journey, dropping flour before, delirious with thirst and disoriented, he forgot to do this but forged on into unchartered territory. He chose the town of Glosta' for the momentous hash, and HIS mission too was threefold: 1: set an 8 mile long run with as little marks as possible; 2:prove to all that despite his bad back, he would still make your calf muscles throb and ruin your favourite little bank; and 3: well, by this time he also forgot that there was a third mission. Or was it a solemn promise that you would BLEED? And one of us did just that.

During the hash, not only was their virgin territory traversed, but the natives bore witness to a running pack of aging old men and lil' red riding hood behind them, they swore never to venture out on a Monday night again. And so began the dreary tradition of Monday Night Football. And there was plenty of heretofore never seen flora on the run-and lots of hard black surface the hash never encountered before.

The d'erections to the start were perfect. Well yes, if you were driving in 2 in the afternoon on a brightly lit highway. As it was pitch dark and no lights, most of us overshot the start, bringing Basket flashbacks of his premature ejaculation woes, and Bondo of his wayward and hesitant pee stream due to an over healthy prostate gland-which mind you happens to be the only funtional gland in that gluttonous body of his. Nevertheless, one by on, the hash faithful arrived at the start. Async signaled the start promptly at 630pm, and the pack headed (who said?) southwards a good 200 meters before encountering flour. This would be a recurring theme for the night. Trail Hoover led the pack and off into the woods and soon bushwhacking thru woods and stream. Had Async miscalculated the GPS d'erections, or more plausibly, was he running from the hunters here to shoot the vicious Durfee deer? Aided by the hare, the pack soon came back on trail and headed south again, the west and northerly to the lake. Here the hash suffered its first casualty. Bondo kept going around the lake oblivious to the dearth of marks and Basket followed him. The rest of the pack faithfully navigated the trail, going thru checks, then coming out onto a road. After a setback, the pack soon found trail again heading north on the NS trail. A definite Async favorite. Back out on the road, the pack headed north on tarmac and hit 44.

The warm light of Cady's beckoned. But the pack, so sure they would yet find some semblance of well laid trail, forged east and onto a false trail that took the pack into GW State park. The Slasher however, knowing better, went down Durfee road and soon came upon trail. The pack, together again, were surprised now to find flour marks that almost looked new. It was as if the hare had run backwards to reset the last 3rd of the trail. This may have been the obvious conclusion was it not for his bad back that would have precluded him from doing so. Maybe Allah had heard his flock? Towards a distant strobe the pack ran, and in so doing heard a low drone growing louder and louder. At first, each in the pack thought the hasher in front was letting out low frequency farts, but soon Basket's cries of ON ON were unmistakable. Or was it Jake howling as Bondo mercilessly buggered him? The early arrivals had a fire going at the BC, and the pack warmed and drank from Nature's nectar. Basket, obviously inebriated but confused by the distant strobe and unable to believe his luck being in the presence of the great Oozing-felt as if he was the Lord himself and proceeded to walk on water. Hmmm.....

The beer consumed, the pack ran back to the start. The circle ensued. The pack unanimously regretted-despite the invention of synthetic rubber on 11/03/1931-Async's father forgot to put it on! A minus 6.9 was the overall mark. The RIH3 is known the world over for its graciousness.

ONON at Cadys and beer and pizza was consumed by all. Oh, and Async and Trail SYBSE were awarded the hashit cojointly for their dirty, bloody little secret.

A good time had by all....