Groundhog Day Run

Run #929 Feb 2, 2004

Hare: SESYB
Cohare: Oozing SD

Location: Smithfield, at the corner of Rts 44 and 5

Weather: Mid-high 30’s, clear

Present: Async, The Slasher Dr WHO, Basket Boom Boom, Seamus.

The Run:

Pathetic! Only a few hashers could find the time to make their way to the run this evening. Perhaps it was too hard to find? After all, clear and unambiguous directions to one of the most hashed areas in Rhode Island; that’s enough to confuse anyone. To be fair, there was also the understandable fear that Basket would celebrate Groundhog Day by removing his pants and looking for a shadow. No worries there. At least as far as seeing a shadow is concerned. But the hash goes on regardless. Promptly at six-thirty an intrepid pack of Async, WHO, Basket, and cohare Oozing entered the woods behind the Tin Tsim Chinese restaurant east into a small nature preserve.

Trail led weaving like a drunken hasher (redundant?) east and south up the sides of Tracy Hill. The snow was moistened by the warming weather, but no other shiggy was found on trail. Pathetic! A check marked “SPQR” was encountered. The hare never did explain this. But to Basket’s disappointment, no muscular yet strangely sensitive gladiators showed up. Async, Basket and WHO all knew that trail would lead to the power lines. After a while, they gave up trying to see the hares faintly-tinted flour marks on the snow, and concentrated on the footprints leading east.

They reached the power lines. Two parallel lines led south-southeast. Oh my! Which to choose? It turned out not to matter, because the trail jumped from one to the other, with a few pointless loops to the left and right, up to the top of Tracy Hill. At this scenic vantage 426 feet above sea level, they paused. Async pointed out the Newport Bridge far to the south. WHO could see the markers for the Brayton Point Power plant in Somerset. The hare couldn’t see the next pole on the power line 50 yds downhill. Pathetic! The expectations of the hashers for the rest of the trail were rapidly assessed and revised. They continued down the south slopes of the hill towards the Cat Rocks, but soon turned left and began a long bushwhack north along the eastern side of the hill, reversing direction in an unusually pointless and annoying way. Kudos to the hare! Async grew tired of this and followed trail back on the power lines by listening to the whistles and horns, falls and profanities of WHO and Basket as they went on trail with the hare and Oozing.

They made it back to the power line at a junction station, and took the icy access road back to Rt 44. Basket and Async tried to find trail under 44 in a drainage culvert. They chickened out when they realized that the drain, fairly small in diameter, would get completely blocked if WHO tried to follow, and they might be responsible for flooding Apple Valley as the snow melted. Pathetic! They crossed the road through the traffic. Trail was found by WHO north up the power line road, then entering the woods east along the frozen Hawkins Brook bed (mostly drained by the construction of Smithfield Crossings). They made their way up to the bluffs overlooking the Target store. They found the BC next to the cemetery atop the cliff (left behind by the excavation for the shopping center).

After a beer, Oozing was sent of to live-hare the way back, while the rest watched police squad cars driving around the stores below, doubtless searching for the source of the strange odors which had just appeared. A suitable time passed, and the group turned back and picked up trail west. It led to the powerlines! Pathetic! A brief jaunt south and then west to a residential area. Oozing’s undetectable markings were abandoned, and WHO led back through the Apple Valley Mall across 44 to the cars.

They circled in the woods behind the cars. Ratings were good: the wet snow, the prolonged hills and bushwhacking, and the lack of Bondo ensured a score of 6.9. Hashit ended up with Basket. Why not? Finally, the on on on: Swampy’s of course, for a warm welcome and fine al fresco dining (even if they were out of pickled eggs). They ate at the bar, were well behaved, and did not sing, throw food, or pour malt-vinegar in anyone’s beer. Pathetic! Hope springs eternal, and maybe next week will be the start of a new era. Or maybe it will be... Pathetic!

On On