[Such was the impression that Monday's hash made upon attendees (PTSD?) you lucky readers are treated to not one, but two run reports! - Ed.]
On the way out of Sheffield, the S10 lift-sharing group had congratulated themselves on being motivated to come out in the pouring rain, though Fast Eddie had been kicked out of his house due to grumpiness so he gets no kudos [I can neither confirm nor deny the truth of this - Ed.]. Soon conversation moved on to discussing Brexit and racism, perhaps to put the upcoming run into perspective.
We arrived in the parking lot reassured that Sticky Shaft has now got a silk scarf with an OS map of the Peak District printed on it. What could possibly go wrong? After battling, and failing, with the uncooperative parking meter Soggy Bottom decided not to risk it and moved her car down the road. Which would have been fine, had she been able to remember exactly where she had moved it to later on.
But this was all distraction from the fact that ten hashers could not find the first check. It took us so long that Monty's Batman's head torch ran out of battery while we were still in the car park. We confirmed Sticky's car was actually there and eventually found two blobs of flour at the entrance of car park...which led nowhere. We even did some parkour round the back. Discussion of the first ever pub car park mutiny ensued, but after a further 20 minutes wandering in circles, we played our first joker and phoned a friend. Sticky Shaft gave us tremendous detail and we were on our way: "Left, then right, then up the 'main' hill". On on!
Crystal Tips simply wasn't feeling it and retreated home and so we were down to nine turning left then right then... which is the main hill?? Here is where began the big search for the third blob of flour. The patrol lights were sweeping across fields, hills, paths, roads, and streams. It had all been going so well, but another 10 minutes, and we were still stuck in Little Longstone. The Tideswell gang, having not experienced one of Sticky's runs before, were confused. Us veterans of Dom's trails reassured them we would find it. Eventually. Probably...
We attempted to use the 50:50 joker but that didn't really help so we just asked the audience and, by popular vote, headed right through a stile and empty fields into the valley. Fortunately we did reach the Monsal Trail, following a second referendum on which direction to take. Luckily we hadn't invited the BBC breakfast journos to this run (although even if we had, at least Sticky wouldn't have been accused of ecocide or poisoning gluten-intolerant dogs with excessive amounts of flour...)
Once on the Trail westwards, the flour was copious and we were glad we had persevered. Under the bridge, Soggy Bottom initiated the dance party with the Monsal Trail Blues and a disco of headlights thwarted Monty's Batman's photographic efforts. We eventually grew tired of turning the music knob and entered the tunnel, where there were an entire three more blobs of flour! I lost track of what was happening for a while (so just kept to doing headcounts every now and then) as we found flour, lost it again, found it, lost it.
At some point, we stumbled across the treats, which has been our hare's anxiety in the past. As there were only nine of us, there was more than usual to go round and your scribe ate way too many mini sausage rolls and brownie bites than was sensible for the run home. Thank goodness Monty was there to finish the leftovers! To keep the mystery alive for Captain Morgan, there may or may not have been Jelly Babies too.
Actual conversation at the hash rest: "Now that we've found the treats, we could just go straight home""Let's not mutiny yet""What time is it?""9:02""Ok let's give it another 2 minutes"
But we thought of our poor hare - wet and far from home on his own. So we gave it our all, and along with Fast Eddie's navigation, the trail became easy to follow after this point. We could now turn our minds back to the constant rain. It can't have been too bad though as Prof faced some backlash when he vocalised that he'd rather be on a sunny beach with a snorkel and mask. Darkness, mud and rain any day! "Call yourself a hasher?!"
It must have been a beautiful route in the daylight and to credit the hare, the terrain was great fun! During a long and slippery downhill, the backrunners had conversations about which books we had and hadn't read and which books Prof keeps for the loo.
Toilet reading established, we ended up back on the Monsal Trail, through two tunnels and past a very precise "HH 1.7km" before the steep climb up to the Monsal Head Hotel. At the top, we found an army of snails staging an uprising on a stone wall but no one in either the Hotel or the Bar. I found an unlocked door, used the facilities, and eventually found a lady who claimed that "all the walkers" have gone down to the Packhorse. Messages were relayed and indeed there was our hare, wondering if we'd ever show up!
Conversation in the pub was educational as ever, and we learnt
- Yet again, cows have been menacing to hares and invisible to the pack.- The Sheffield 10K poster boy has not yet used his Peak District silk scarf [maybe next time he should? - Ed]
On on
Queen Squiggle
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