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 béchamel, melted cheese and lots of chips