Summer’s Eve in Caratunk Hash

Run #947, June 7, 2004

Hare: SESYB

Co-Hare: Oozing SD

Location: Caratunk Wildlife Sanctuary, Seekonk, MA

Weather: Clear, high 70’s

Present: Dr W.H.O., Async, Fuwangi Boner, Tinker, Basket Boom Boom, Snotty, Mr Whipple, WIPOS;

Visitor: My Little Pony (San Diego Humping H3), Seamus.

The Run:

Finally given a break from hashing in Burrillville, a larger group than usual turned up, hoping for something different. And it was virgin territory. With a bimbo hare. WHO could resist (but didn’t). SESYB the hare had finally found a safe entry point into one of the sacred haunts of the Southeast NE Chapter of the Audubon Society. This group is no friends to hashers or hounds of any sort. The Caratunk Wildlife Sanctuary prohibits alcohol. It prohibits running. It prohibits pets. It prohibits loud or vulgar language. A perfect spot for a hash.

The group gathered at the end of a cul-de-sac by the powerlines north of the actual sanctuary. The visitor was greeted. And, as Bondo had not arrived yet, the start was prompt at 6:30. They entered the woods southeast on the powerlines. Async and Fuwangi led, and quickly found trail heading east on some Caratunk paths.

The group spread out somewhat, heading on a counterclockwise loop on the Hemlock trail through a grove of Beech trees. Some hemlock would have come in handy to feed to the hare when it was realized that this was just a big circle-jerk.  But the hare was playing it crafty and hanging back as she had to revise some marks along the way to keep the pack on track. The confusion in the woods deepened. Fuwangi found true trail heading back west across an orderly progression of bridges over a nice bog. Basket and WHO had followed, and thoughtfully overturned the bridges to ensure that those following wouldn’t miss out as Fuwangi had. They crossed back over the powerlines, and across Cole’s Brook to an observation platform and some fields.

WHO led briefly as trail circled the field and then turned around Muskrat Pond. Most of those behind followed Async’s lead and skipped this unnecessary loop. They turned south then back east to the powerlines. Trail led through some nice swamp. Almost everyone was happy, although some wished for some more briars. Somehow, WIPOS was now sharing the lead with Async and the visitor as trail turned back uphill northwest parallel to the powerlines to the top of the hill and the beer check. The hare had hidden the stash of beer well, but finally it was found and opened. Unfortunately it could not be finished before Basket struggled in, DFL. He gave his usual story about trying to outwit the hare, and boasted about the great shiggy he had found. Will he never learn?

The beer check was marked by an extraordinary density of mosquitoes, an extraordinary beer shortage, as well as an extraordinarily long and pointless rendition of “A is for A” (i.e. “A long strong black pudding up my sister’s cat’s a**hole…”) by Basket and Tinker. This annoying song would still be going had not the pack decided to drown the pair out with “There was a little bird”. The visitor was quite confused. But the beer was gone, and the mosquitoes were satisfied, so they moved on.

Trail on-in led down the steepest part of the hill (resulting in a few scrapes and bruises), crossing the brook briefly, then turning back for an unnecessary but refreshing crossing of the mud of the Ice Pond back to the powerlines. It was straight back north then northwest to the cars, reusing the trail in from the beginning. They brought in some more beer to circle up out of earshot form the houses and circled up. Marks for the hash were in general good: Fine swamp, excellent biting pests, near-loss of Basket, virgin trails. But the beer shortage, the non-loss of Basket and the clear weather were strong counter-arguments, so the hare was left with a +0.69. The visitor could provide no intelligible reason for joining the group so was duly punished. Hashit went to Basket. Once it was clear that a second flock of mosquitoes were fully sated, they had religion and moved on to the on on on at Tort’s.

At Tort’s, it was karaoke night. And the festivities commenced just after the food and beer had been delivered to the hash. The painful and sickening sights and sounds that followed were too awful to recount. Suffice it to say that the RIH3 should let some considerable time pass before revisiting Seekonk, and that karaoke providers in this area should delete all “old favorites”, Beatles, and Simon and Garfunkel songs from their offerings on Monday nights.

On On