December 2018 runs

1118. 3rd December - Monty's batman, The Angler's Rest, Bamford
1119. 10th December - Crystal Tips, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, Castleton 
1120. 17th December - Christmas Hash, Crookes/Walkley, Theme=Movie Characters
           24th December - Christmas Eve

November 2018 runs

1114. 5th November - Trunks, The Maynard, Grindleford
1115. 12th November - Spiv, The Shepley Spitfire, Totley
1116. 19th November - Copper Job, Hare and Hounds, Dore
24th November- Winter Training, Hope Valley - contact Prof for details.
1117. 26th November - Captain Colon, Bagshaw Arms, Norton

October 2018 runs

1109. 1st October - Steamy Knickers, The Sir William, Grindleford
1110. 8th October - Smittie, Hammer and Pincers, Bents Green
1111. 15th October - RED DRESS RUN! Captain Colon, Sheffield Tap, Sheffield station
Meet from 7.15 for quick drink and 7.40 prompt start
1112. 22nd October - Prof, Old Hall Hotel, Hope
1113. 29th October - Shunter, Guzzle micropub, Woodseats

September 2018 runs

Remember a headtorch!
1105. 3rd September - Skidmarks, Miners Arms, Eyam
1106. 10th September - Soggy Bottom and Search & Rescue, Yorkshire Bridge Inn, Ladybower
1107. 17th September  - Desperado, Miners Arms, Dronfield
1108. 24th September - Shunter, Rising Sun, Abbey Lane

#1107 Miner's Arms, Dronfield Woodhouse

Hare: Desperado

Amazingly, after over 1100 runs, this was a new venue for us and there was plenty of room in the car park (future hares please note). It was a perfect night for hashing, warm with clear skies, as a modest sized pack set off under a rising half moon with Mars low on the southern horizon. We were soon in perfect hash territory, off road and teased by falsies heading off into woodland over an intricate construction of elongated footbridge and stiles before Capt Colon found the true trail heading, inevitably, uphill. By now Saturn was becoming visible below the moon and it was fitting that Comet Skidmarks appeared over the northern horizon for the first time before disappearing in search of lost flour. This was, as the best hashes are, becoming a run of deception through the sunken lanes and hedgerows of these parts, reminiscent of the Normandy Bocage. We were soon hopelessly lost and the pack resorted to milling about and discussing Brexit. For all I know because I was at the bottom of the adjacent field with Captain Colon discussing Red Dress Runs before peering through a hedgerow. Miraculously, there was a blob of flour on another sunken lane, so on on was called without bothering to look for further evidence. That is how I can claim to witness the second sighting of Comet Skidmarks before he disappeared again in cloud of sweat and dust. Much later we came out of this miasma at Barlow Fishponds, a regular feature of hashes many moons ago.

To the relief of all a bag was found containing the latest offerings from the boffins at Bournville (popping candy chocolate seeing as you ask) and we set about scanning the  celestial heavens for direction. By which time the moon was definitely not where it was before. Search and Rescue and Prof were particularly astute in spotting shooting stars although Prof, choosing a horizontal point of observation, was almost trampled after the call of on on.   After a long uphill slog we came to a four way split but before we set off in completely the wrong direction here came Comet Skidmarks from the very same. Did anyone see him at the Hash Rest? Me neither. And so we emerged into the surreal environs of a shopping “centre” and just as Madge was warming to the theme we were back to find Desperado propping the bar and looking like he’d just emerged from a week of wild camping.

On on,

#1106, Yorkshire Bridge Inn, Soggy B and S&R

Hares Search & Rescue + Soggy Bottom kept us fairly local ensuring a double figures turnout including local celebrity Donkey’s Ass.  Steamy knickers, Crystal Tips and her previously assumed imaginary friend Lizzie emerged as if by magic from a car in the corner of the car park. Hannah also appeared which begged the question were there were any NHS staff left in Sheffield or were they all out hashing??

Meanwhile back in the car park what had started as a dry evening in Crookes turned into a rainy one in the shadow of Bamford Edge and Win Hill…probably all the better for the thirsty looking reservoir.

We established that no one else would be coming by casting a few glances around the car park and proffering a few muttered opinions then we were off,  a bit of insider knowledge led us to check left rather than right and we were soon legging it across the top of the dam wall towards an ‘X marks the falsey’.  Back we went down the side of the reservoir (the past scene of some Hash Sledging) towards the River Derwent.

We crossed the bridge onto Car Lane whereby it was clear that Skid Marks was in full on checking mode, namely due to his torch battery power being low. As we headed left then right up the hill your scribe stayed at the back listening to Mr Legon advising not so imaginary friend Lizzie on her PhD research, Monty was shaking his head.

By this time we knew where we would be headed and zig zagged our way up the hill. Desperado and Mincer were heavily involved in a chuckle brothers style dialogue about how long the spine race was, this involved throwing seemingly random numbers at each other, there then followed a sub debate about whether Desperado’s mate Mick had done the full spine or the half. [The half at a mere 108 miles - Ed.]

The summit was in sight, but with the weather closing in would we make it or have to turn back?  (pause for suspense) Of course we made it and found an array of hash treats waiting for us, more than we could be consumed in fact.  I did suggest that the remainder be shared out in the pub but this fell on deaf ears.
Q: How many male hashers does it take to pack the remaining snacks into a size suitable for a running rucksack?
A: Quite a few….but with a very clear three step directive from donkey’s ass this was achieved…without any questions…or complaints…for no one dared speak of the matter again.
To avoid the onset of hypothermia Mincer and Skid Marks set off early for a run around, we eventually prized ourselves off the mountain and set off to join them…had they gone the right way? (Rhetorical Question).

We then headed towards Castleton, Will and Monty fancied a detour to Hope but group-think soon set in and they rejoined the pack.  A sharp right and some mild heather bashing led us to the woods and another sharp right took us at some pace along the fence which required some ducking and diving between felled trees.

Until the next check we had navigated fairly well but something had to go wrong, over confidence, lack of navigational sense or had a mutiny set in?  There followed a Spanish style inquisition as to who had actually seen two blobs of flour…no one stepped forward so back to check we went.

Back ‘on on’ we headed down the hill towards the reservoir, yours truly stubbed his toe in a scene reminiscent from the football match in Kez. As we reached the reservoir we knew our hour or so of joy was coming to an end, there followed a pacey jog back to the big plug hole and left onto the dam wall whence we began. The lights of the pub drew us in where we were greeted by our Fresh Faced hares (still no sign of the remaining hash treats).

A thoroughly pleasant Hash was the general consensus!

On On,
Sticky Shaft

Hash #1103 Strines Inn, Sticky Shaft

A Teessider’s view.
About 16 summer survivors gathered on a promise of the pub kitchen closing at 9. Was this a hint of a hash of old, a quick jaunt through the woods followed by a hair raising submerged tunnel, two sneckies  and back home in time for Twin Peaks?
We welcomed some new footprints and a retread in the form of Prof’s old mate from Huddersfield. Soggy Bottom’s Bairn and two medics from Dundee who will now be forever known as The Beano and Dandy. And the Peacocks.
Cpt Morgan giving firm instructions not to go near the car!
A punishing falsie followed by much milling around on the main road was mocked by the chattering of a Hedge Cutty before we found the true trail behind the bridge over Strines Beck. On up through a cleared forest that was overrun by flies brought us to a standing stone and a proper path. The Bairn was inches away from finding the true trail again after much milling around in the woolybacks. This brought us to the Hash Rest and piles of assorted sausage rolls to fortify us for the short run to the pub. Or so we thought. We emerged at the top of Thornseat Moor to a splendid vista. I swear I could just about see Doggy.
"Can't be far to the pub now..."
The first clue that all was not well was a sheep skull mockingly placed on the track; then after a free run down a green alley we passed a very dead looking Spuggy Hawk before plunging into the very dark woods. Emerging blinking onto Mortimer Road the more experienced of us tried to head back to the pub but were dragged back by the cry of on on from the usual suspect, Uglyman, heading down to Hallfield House. By now the evening star was twinkling and most of us hadn’t bothered with headtorches.
A beautiful sunset heralding the need for headtorches once more!
All would have been fine if we had carried on up to Brogging End and the road but Sticky had a Twist and we set of across the dam to find an innovation in a “Hash Hold” Then we had to negotiate the banks of Strines Ressa, which had more clemmies than Brighton Beach. Who mentioned a swim? Nobody.
Nobody thought the hare had a clue where he was heading at this point as we followed Monty Dog and scaled fences and walls, though the mood was lightened when Uglyman fell through one. And suddenly we were back on the road and in true hash fashion returning in the opposite direction from whence we had sallied forth only to find the kitchen had closed an hour ago. So no prospect of a Parmo then?
Afterwards Sticky Shaft confided that he’d intended us to go to the Sugworth Tower, so perhaps it’s just as well he got lost.

Sneck = Door or window lock, hence Snecklifter is a beer
Bairn = Young Un
Hedge Cutty = Wren (short and stubby, after St Cuthbert)
Woolybacks  = Countryside, or a person from say, Hathersage
Doggy = North Ormesby, a suburb of Middlesbrough known for its Doggy Market
Alley = Back Lane
Spuggy = Sparrow
Ressa = obvious
Clemmy = stone
Parmo = basttered chicken schnitzel served with b├ęchamel, melted cheese and lots of chips
On on,

August 2018 runs

1102. 6th August - Trunks, The Robin Hood Inn, Baslow (Pub closed, BYOB!)
1103. 13th August - Sticky Shaft, Strines Inn, Strines
1104. 20th August - Fast Eddie, The Moon Inn, Stoney Middleton
          27th August - bank holiday

July 2018 runs

1097. 2nd July - Shunter, The Barrel Inn, Bretton
1098. 9th July - Cpt. Colon, Devonshire Arms, Peak Forest
1099. 16th July - Rawhide, Shoulder of Mutton, Bradwell
1100.  23rd July - Fast Eddie, The Gate Inn, Overgreen
1101. 30th July - Desperado & Suyin, The Angler's Rest, Bamford

#1096 The Millstone, Hathersage

25th June 2018
Another superb midsummer hash laid out this time by Monty the dog and his faithful companion Will. Hathersage is a gem at any time but on a beautiful summer evening it is absolute heaven. Will had chosen some super paths through shady woods and across sunny fields where the hay lay cut and glistening. At times it looked as if we would reach the summit of Stanage or perhaps Higger Tor but then another check back would send us spinning down hill again. And above, the sky entranced with its clear blue and salmon and its cotton trails and everyone was in high spirits.
We had been promised a hash swim and everyone was keen to reach the water. “Are we there yet?” was the cry each time we crossed a stream or passed a puddle, and Desperate Dan even suggested a trough in a field might fit the bill. But at last the Mill Pond was in view and in a blink of an eye running tops were cast aside and all was splash and “Jeez, that's cold!”. Fast Eddy was first in but only just. What is it about Sheffield hashers and water? Trunks lived up to his name with a perfectly chosen pair of swimming pants, a sort of cross between a pair of curtains and a Californian beach barbeque. Soggy Bottom went for the frilly knicker look but only by accident, apparently.
Then someone rescued the semi submerged hash treat bag (nice touch, Will) and everyone was out on the bank again, shaking themselves off and devouring the delicious treats. What larks!
Off with us again and downhill towards the village before the midges could do their worst. Next stop Ali Bongo's bean patch where teams of hashers dashed here and there carrying water from the river to drench the thirsty veg. You don't get that in a Saunders Mountain Marathon.
So, happy home to the pub to enjoy a pint as the sun finally set. Anyone for a chorus of Jerusalem?
On on,
Captain Morgan