WIPOS Wanks Wickaboxet Hash

Run #936, March 22, 2004

Hare: WIPOS

Location: Wickaboxet Forest, West Greenwich

Weather: Upper 20’s, Clear

Present: Dr WHO, Basket Boom Boom, Oozing SD, SESYB, Mr Whipple, Seamus.

The Run:

A fine spring evening with temperatures below freezing assured another fantastic turnout for the RIH3. They especially looked forward to the thought of WIPOS as hare. And he didn’t disappoint. After unsuccessfully waiting a few extra minutes for some police to arrive and break up the group, or even for anyone to talk them out of it, they set off. The hare set an arrow pointing southwest, across the street into virgin territory on the Alton Jones Campus of URI. But there were no marks. Ha Ha! The hare sure got them, that time!

They reversed northeast, across the road back to their cars. They continued up a dirt pathway into Wickaboxet. A quick check sent Basket to the left, off for parts unknown. What does he do with himself, alone in the woods with Seamus for such long periods each week? The others took the left fork, and milled about the next check for a while until the hare indicated that they were to go east on a long bushwhack downhill. This little jaunt was remarkable for the lack of flour, the lack of coordinated search efforts on the part of the hashers, and the confusion and disorientation of the hare himself, who lost his own trail. The two-timer Mr Whipple was without flashlight. The trail was so bad, this made no difference whatsoever.

A secondary access road was reached. The hare turned south. The rest turned north. There were no marks, but after a short distance, a check was discovered. True trail seemed to go east, but this in fact led only to a prolonged and painful circle jerk on far side of Acid Factory Brook. The group stayed together, trying to decipher another WIPOS masterpiece of hashing. They eventually realized that they’d better turn back or all the beer might be gone by the time they found the BC. The hare and Basket were nowhere to be seen. (Of course it turned out that the cache of beer was as safe from this pair as if it had been hidden in Ft Knox.)

Trail was resumed west from the check on the dirt road. After a short distance, flour curved slightly south of west and bushwhacking resumed. Going generally uphill, a path was found that led to the top of Rattlesnake Ledge, where there was a clearly marked “B”. Still there was no hare and there was no Basket. Unfortunately there was also no beer. While searching the underbrush in widening circles, they finally heard Basket blundering through the brush from the east, while the hare showed up from the south down at the foot of the cliff.

The hare indicated that he had hidden the beer at the base of the ledge in a “cave”, and he went to get it. It was soon apparent that he had lost the beer! For a few moments, panic reigned. Finally, the blind ( Basket) and the unilluminated (Mr Whipple) had to come down to find it for him. Meanwhile, WHO, Oozing and SESYB stayed atop the cliff, looking at the stars and assuming (wrongly) that the lazy trio below would bring the beer up to the BC where it was supposed to be. A prolonged yet tiresome verbal jousting of the half-wits took place from the top to the bottom. (No hasher can fully resist the call of a brew however, so it was a foregone conclusion that the BC was held in a muddy and urine-stained pile of rocks at the base rather than on the pristine and beautiful peak.)

On in trail was found leading south, and was uneventful. Basket and the hare managed not to get lost. They circled up and rated the run. Good weather, little shiggy and failure to lose Basket initially sent the marks well into the negative. But the lack of Bondo and his dogs, the long circle-jerk and the almost incredible incompetence of the hare were enough to raise the total to 0.69. Hashit went to SESYB because she liked the big red plastic baseball bat that now accompanied the toilet seat. “Hmmn!” she said. “I bet Oozing is gonna love this!”

On On On was of course at Marks, where our songs are always welcome, and our visitors and virgins can be sure to sample the pleasures of malt vinegar in their Guinness. Another fine evening was had and all looked forward to next weeks adventure, especially when they heard that Dr WHO was hare.

On On