VENUE: Farley Hill National Park, St Peter
DATE: 25 th June, 2005
HARES: June “Heresy Buns” Clarke et al
SCRIBE: Donovan Bagwell
In discussing the up and coming hash with my wife during the week she had asked, “Where’s the hash being held this week” I replied “Farley. Are you coming?” “Farley” she said with a perplexed expression. “Yes, Farley Hill! Are you coming?” I elaborated. “No” was the curt retort. On reflection I think I will take me wife’s advice more often.
After a long drive up the ABC highway, on which at the halfway point I thought I was going to have to stop and take a statutory break, I arrived at the Farley Hill National Park . Early! That was my second mistake of the week! I was immediately pounced on by the ‘Harts’ who proceeded to bombard me with memories of my actions in the ‘New’ Charlie’s Bar after the previous week’s hash and numerous hash related questions and requests. I had banished the memories of the previous weekend’s activities into the ‘Recycle Bin’ folder within my brain, therefore facing them with a very blank expression, and I deftly avoided or deflected all hash related requests with all the candour of Tony Blair. That is all with the exception of writing the hash trash!
‘June et al’ arrived after some five minutes, which was a relief, we had assumed we were to wait in the Car Park, but understood that there was more than one car park. Here in lies my third mistake! I turned up and early! After ducking and diving the ‘Harts’ I was then immediately volunteered to help fetching and carrying drinks! I mean do I look like I’m built to carry stuff? If wasn’t for the fact that it was my favourite beverage I might have just got back into my car, belted up and prepared myself for the long endurance drive home!
June proceeded to mount Ian Putley’s rear end and address the assembled throng. Some people started off across the car park with Nick Paddison & I in tow still endeavouring to finish off our conversation. As we reached the entrance to the Farley Hill National Park , I was heartened to see that we were starting off on a downhill trajectory. This suits my running style! We kept running downhill and such was the steepness of the gradient, the length of the downhill run and the speed of my jog that my ears popped. Where’s my mother with some boiled sweets, I thought!
Well I was just beginning to praise June, the hasher not the month, for setting a downhill run when my addled mind realised that what goes down must come up! Which is exactly what my lunch threatened to do on the long slog back up the hill.
At the bottom of the hill, after narrowly escaping being caught for shortcutting by following a far more experienced hasher who managed to put a positive spin on the shortcut thus aiding with the wrestling of my conscience, for a nano second, we started the long and often brutal climb! At the check I decided we must be going back up the hill and left the masses in search of an early break for the summit. My decision proved fruitful and I had actually chosen the correct route. My fleeting moment at the head of the ‘pelaton’ was soon eroded when we hit the winding uphill track. We fell into a steady slog through grass, mud and water.
At one of my brief but increasingly frequent rests I was awaken from my thoughts to see a cursing Ian Putley pass by me, chastising his decision to check downhill! At the 2/3 point I hit the wall and suffering from heat exhaustion and a thinning of the air, I permitted myself a lie down. Yes, a lie down. As I lay prostate on the track I saw a vision, or it may have been a mirage, or even hasher’s T-shirt, but there before my eyes I saw a cool bottle banks. That was all the inspiration I needed to push for the summit! I raised my ample frame and struck out with the speed of a striking tortoise.
At the summit I metaphorically stuck my flag in the ground for all frontrow forwards, hereby claiming that I had conquered the hill. This euphoria was somewhat short-lived when I realised that we had not quite made back to base camp as yet and that a ‘Banks’ was not yet won!
After finding a second wind, or it may just have been wind from the exertion, I set off on the road and eventually caught up the pack at the bottom of a gully checking for the trail.
At this point the wily June took the group to another level and with the ‘On On’ shout going up toward the wood we were off on a Commando style run over fallen trees, under fallen trees and all but swinging over a babbling brook. It was with ‘Rambo’ style enthusiasm that I threw myself under one such fallen tree, only to emerge the other side doubled up and cursing like Victor Meldrew.
Once we emerged from the wood we were rewarded with sight of our objective and mine …… Banks Beer!
I cannot recall the ‘down downs’ as I was too busy relieving hashers of their hard earned cash in exchange for Barbados Rugby Football Union Grand Raffle tickets.
However, I do recall Damian ‘Don’t tell em your name’ Pike bidding, securing and paying an exorbitant amount for a Cambodia H3 T-shirt! Well Done! We will be endeavouring to sell Damian copious amounts of raffle tickets after next weeks hash!
It was a fine hash and this week’s lesson for all is ‘Do not arrive early!’.
