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
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