HVH3 #68 Hash Trash "Where'd the trail go?"
(The Hash Previously known as HVH3 #61)


Where: FoodKingCityPlaceWhatever, Turners Falls, MA
When: Sunday, 27 April, 2003 1400 or so
Who: (apoligies if any missed)
Anti-Cock, At your Cervix, Dewey Do ME!, Cajonas, Came on Vacation, Canis Lickus, Just Frank
Visitors: Swamp Thang, Cock hung Pow (?), Follow My Tits, Dot,
Virgin: Just Annette
Why: Beer, of course

Our Scribe being hare and not wanting to stroke himself anymore than is absolutely necessary, has invited someone else to have a go in his stead. Hmmm that doesn't exactly say it the way I want, but here goes:

It was a truly loverly day Sunday, 27 April, in sunny Tunners falls. The FoodKing parking lot was a buzz of anticipation and a HUGE turnout (for Happy Valley) of 11 eager Hashers. The water in the canal was running fast, pre lube brew was cold and generously offered by the soon to be ChattanogaH3 GM, Swamp Thang. (You won't be able to stop Priscilla) And there was the occasional breeze wafting a slight stink from the dumpters, ooo what a day.

Hare abuse began at the chalk talk, (Is the Back check mark the First hash? or do we start counting from the next hash? Does the BC# mark count as One?) De-erections for the Beer Check were given clear as mud, involving tracing a line along a fallen Birch Tree towards it's stump and triangulating from Power line tower #37, using Magnetic North as a reference, follow the voices in your head until you see a flickering chalice above the battlements. Ask the pregnant nun for the masoleum key and the beer will be in a plastic bag under some trees about 2.5 rods away just past NO ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES ALLOWED sign, or something like that.

Trail set out across Ave. A up the slope, next to a church (Hallelujah!), and up.... and up the next street... and up... climb another sloping sidewalk, up one more hill and up some more, where trail flattened out just past the deer pelt (yep, Turners is a 'special' place) with a BackCheck16. (That's a YBF to the uninitiated, as in 'hare's gonna drink for this'... gonna drink alot) The question then is, do we count the BC16 as the first mark or not? Caaarefully counting hash back, the pack arrives.... at the start, where the hare has left a quite nasty message about "No 1/4 for FRBs" or some such nonsense... the bastard.

A short bit past the stinking dumpsters, down a gravel wash, trail follows along the swift running canal to the first check, splitting the FRBs. True trail crosses the canal and bangs a left. A clear, no nonsense big 'ol white arrow hanging left down along the opposite side of the canal.

Now here's where it got confusing, being a clever hasher and seeing that the Turners Falls forefathers weren't all that imaginative, your fearless scribe sets off straight, ignoring that 'suggested' left turn. Crossing a block or two of the street grid, your scribe, spies another hasher a few blocks down who evidently pulled the same clever trick a few blocks further along true trail. Your scribe forges on... to find a hash mark pointing the opposite direction!.... ooo what a clever hasher! Cutting off so much nasty running. "On-On!" called and the pack blindly, foolishly, stupidly follows your scribe.

Several Witchy-ways later, touring through the abandoned mill back lots, back over the canal and through some really wonderful neighborhoods, the pack arrives back at the start behind the oh so attractive FoodKing. It's here where the irritation grows; Beer Near mark in huge gaudy pink chalk pointing back to the start. But, no fallen birch tree, no power line!, no flikering light on any battlement!!!, where's the pregnant nun!!!!!!!!!!!

Luckily, to calm matters, the ever prepared Swamp Thang opens the cooler and soothes the undrunk hashers. Much hunting and poking about the FoodKing, the concrete business next door, the garden supply shop further down, the fetid drainage ditch behind them all and nuthin'. Not a bottle, not a drop, not even a discarded bottle cap... well there were plenty of those but even the smell of the sacred beverage was gone from them long ago.

Suddenly, the remaining hashers gather round... 1, 2, 3..... where the hell did the rest go? Not even a "see yah loser!" to guide the way. Just a lone call saying that a some had thought to re-run the trail, some to back track. Well.... okay, I'll try that.

The splinter pack of three reverse trail to find... *ahem!* the scribe's early error, (poorly marked trail I mutters to meself) Picking up the missed trail into some fine wooded area, checks here, checks there, Back check 8 at the bottom of a hill by the river side (just more for the hare to drink), Trail wound thisaway and thataway 'til, glory of glories, the hallowed BN mark.

Luckily, an "ARE YOU!" call allowed us stragglers to avoid the hunt along the fallen Birch for the pregnant nun. Fine swill was being drunk down below by the rushing river side with the whole pack gathered, hare included.

The morals of this trail: Never set your in trail so close to your out trail, Never trust a hasher to just follow the friggin' arrows, Realize that a hasher in search of beer will even do a trail twice to find the Beer, and finally, any trail with beer is a damn good trail.

With all (most) of the beer check brew gone, the hare managed to sucker an unnamed hasher to carry the detritous while the pack hoofed out to the hares conveniently parked pick-up (Do I detect some auto hashing), short ride back to the FoodKing with a stop to point out a short novel introduction in chalk which would have explained how to get to the out trail, had we actually followed true trail in the first place. Another concluding chalk novel at the FoodKing was photographed before and after some creative editing. Warnings of Turners Falls being a "family town" were just plain ignored.

A short convoy up to the hare's just outside bustling downtown Wendell. Circle pitifully lead by your scribe and GM Canis Lickus. (Much thanks to those who actually KNOW some songs) And this is just clearly getting too damn long. The hare was forced to pay a minimum of an ounce per backcheck in down-downs for a trail that was rated by dictatorial consensus to be a 6.9 outa 10. Virgins, visitors, newcomers, departers, and violators all downed their due. Rousing chourses of Chicago, Jesus saves, sunshine mt., the jockey song, and others offended all and the neighbors. hoorah.

On-On
Canis Lickus

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