Tri-State Hash

Run #978, Jan 3, 2005.

Hare:  Async

Location:  Douglas State Forest

Weather:  40’s, Light Rain

Present:  Basket Boom Boom, Bondo Jovi, Just Jeremiah, Dr WHO, Dry Foot Fairy, Fuwangi Boner, Tinker, WIPOS, Seamus, Ben.
Visitor/Virgin:  Just Ariana.

The Run:

It was unseasonably warm, if not toasty. A light rain was falling. It was pitch black. What better way to greet the New Year than to show up in the middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts for a run set by an unemployed hare recovering from multiple surgeries.  The usuals showed up, mostly late after getting lost. A virgin showed up. After seeing Basket and Bondo, she soon wished she hadn’t. But she was stuck, momentarily unable to come up with plausible excuses. At any rate, the run started unusually late and they left the start at the side of East Thompson Road opposite High Street at about 6:50. [Instructions included a plea from the hare to keep an eye out for his cell-phone, lost on trail earlier in the day. Right! These wankers can’t find a jumbo cooler full of beer when it’s marked with a giant “B”. Find a 3” x 2” cell phone in a bunch of leaves somewhere in one of three states? I don’t think so. But I digress.]

Trail led east into the woods on a path leading to the Southern New England Trunkline Trail. The group was together as they crossed the Rocky Brook on a bridge and came to the trunkline. No one was fooled by the check, and they continued straight slightly south of east, and began to climb. The virgin Just Ariana voiced some concerns about getting left behind in the woods, particularly after watching the athletic grace of Dr WHO. But she was reassured as she watched Basket and Bondo stumbling through the night. She stayed safe in the middle of the pack. She was the only one actually looking for a phone.

Soon a dip in the trail led to some flooded paths and another river crossing. A check soon after the river led south on the Mid-State Trail. Although some tried to circumvent it, the paths were progressively more flooded. This was some fine shiggy, and it was ultimately more trouble avoiding the water than just skipping through it. Feet were satisfactorily moistened. No cell-phone could have withstood this part of the trail. The group was somewhat spread out at this point, but a bushwhacking loop off and back to the trail followed by the hare caught the front runners (led by Fuwangi) but good, and they were back together soon.

Continuing south, they came to a check that was near the terminus of the North-South Trail. True trail led southwest to the Mass-RI border where a check was found surrounding the marker. Fuwangi charged ahead using random guesses to find trail. Basket and Bondo, having been lost in this area on multiple previous hashes, followed and correctly guessed the location of the beer. Thus they easily found the trail heading west and uphill to the Tri-State Marker and the beer check. Very soon, they all arrived. The cellular reception was excellent from this high point. But Fuwangi had found the beer, and was trying to make away with it. He had to be forcibly dragged back by the hare.

Just Ariana was favorably impressed with the choice of Guinness for the BC. [As were the rest, expecting a more typical Async-Recycled-Office-Beer-Choice. Unemployment seems to suit him. Or maybe he couldn’t call for the cheap stuff, being without a phone. But I digress.] The rhubarb as so often is the case lately, refused to rise, and another dreary and prolonged songfest interfered with the enjoyment of the beverages. At least Just Jeremiah had a new song for the group. In the woods, Tinker must have heard this caterwauling, so he never appeared. [Or he could have been making free calls to Bangkok on the hare’s cell-phone.] This caused some concern to Just Ariana (and the hare, who would have to go out and retrieve him if he did not eventually appear.)  No one else seemed to care. But before they left, a token beer was left precariously balanced on the tip of the Tri-State Marker, for Tinker or as an offering to the Hash gods.

Trail out followed the CT-MA border northwards, bushwhacking along the sides of the slope. They moved along slowly through the brush and came back out on the Trunkline trail, where they encountered a strange form, bulky and dark, with a long pink stick. It was WIPOS. He did not have a phone. But he did have cab-fare. Spirits fell yet again, but they continued northeast on the trunkline, and back to the check where the hare instructed them to circle up on the bridge. The beer was easily found and they settled down, waiting for stragglers. The circle was called to order as it was getting cold. And just as the ratings were begun, Tinker showed up. Another run ruined by perfect attendance at the circle!

The ratings were fair, as always: good weather, no pavement, virgin present, loss of two (including WIPOS) at the BC were balanced by recycled trail, recycled BC, Basket AND Bondo at the BC, and the sight of Dr WHO in shorts. Total: +0.69 Next, the virgin was brought into the circle. She didn’t know her own name, claimed that WHO made her come, and said her favorite sexual position was doggy-style. She then sang a song which was amusing if not obscene. We don’t get virgins like this very often anymore. Why is that? Now the time had come (yet again) to try to name Just Jeremiah. The naming skills of the RIH3, never all that great to begin with, have been strained in recent weeks. But as the son of Bondo Jovi, and Just Big Sh*t, the best they could come up with was Steaming Pile of Turds (SPOT). Time will tell if this will stick. For once, at least, no one tried to rename Dry Foot Fairy. Hashit went to Bondo. The reasoning was too convoluted to even try to recall.

Religion was finally performed, and they agreed to head for George’s Pizza in Pascoag. Just Ariana had had some time to think. She quickly remarked that she had to pick someone up at the airport at 10PM, so she couldn’t make it. She assured all she would be back soon. Muttering something about changing email accounts, she drove off. The rest convoyed to George’s, where pizza was ordered, and bets were made on whether the new hasher would ever return. Basket and Fuwangi were believers, and took on all bets. They were given four weeks for her reappearance, after which money would change hands. Watch future hash trash for the exciting conclusion!

[Addendum: The hare reports that he and Basket went out on Tuesday to the same area, and were able to recover the phone, still functioning. Perhaps we should all give unemployment a chance.]

On On