Sunday’s sunshine was warmly welcomed by several hashers milling about in front of the infamous Copper Mug waiting for the rest of the pack to arrive. In true hasher fashion the Grand Master appeared right on time and called the circle to order…Goat Bag was was introduced as the hare of the day, and after leaving a few cryptic flour marks on the sidewalk – he was off to enjoy his 5 minute head start. Despite the beautiful fall conditions, the blessing of the hash included a “coldus” statement that bewildered most of the pack (including the GM), perhaps this was a portent to the confusion that was to follow…

After enjoying another few minutes of the fall sunshine, the pack deemed that enough time had transpired and set off. Unfortunately, the cheery cries of “on-on” were soon replaced by “are-you” in less than a block. The first check at a busy intersection had the FRBs roving in all directions to no avail…even Shunty and Long’n Hard ventured at least a block searching for the elusive marks. Finally, having no faith in the hashing capability of Just Jason, Stairs Hard re-traced Jason’s route and found a clear set of marks less than half a block from the check. We were off running again…with the first down-down duly noted.

The hare wound us through the side streets and alleys off Main street, and around the library to the 7to11 store whereupon we found the Hymn Check.  Opening the secret envelopes revealed the lyrics to “Drink Drink Drink” from the 1924 operetta “The Student Prince”.  Despite not knowing the tune, the pack sang a rousing version of the drinking song…occasionally singing the lyrics in unison!:

Ein zwei drei vier

Lift your stein and drink your beer!

Ein zwei drei vier

Nip your stein and drink your beer!

The trail then wound up the slope to Government street. A few blocks north of Government revealed the highly anticipated Turkey/Eagle split…apparently also highly anticipated by the eagles, not because they were looking forward to some steep shaggy covered inclines or the numerous hillside staircases lurking in the area, but because they wanted the turkey trail. By default, the non-competitive nature of hashering ensures there is no shame or pride in the selection of either the turkey or eagle routes, but apparently if you are normally and eagle, you need to really justify why you are on the turkey trail. The complaining about sore backs, illnesses and “oh, I my morning run was too far/hard this morning” carried on until the beer check…which was almost missed by the whinging pack of walking turkeys…

The check at Ellis creek completely confounded the befuddled turkeys who decided that there was no solution to the check, and set off on a zen down the trail running parallel with the creek. By good fortune we did come across another mark, which was thankfully a “BN”…whoo-hoo! The hare was waiting for us in the sunshine, sitting on a bench beside the creek with a cooler full of icy cold beer, which included a few splendid tall cans of Warsteiner in honor of Octoberfestivus. The turkeys were nearly done their first beers by the time the eagles showed up for theirs…apparently they had some interesting uphill shig replete with falsies and back-checks…good on them…

The pack zenned it’s way back to the Mug, with the majority opting to take the scenic route alongside the creek. A brief black flash of a distant runner sprinting past the high-school earned Stairs Hard a down-down for “wanting to see which way was faster”. Doh.

Back at the circle, the guest RA (filling in for GoatBag) doled out down-downs for:

GoatBag for haring such a shitty trail. Note to the RA: Using the words “Shitty Trail” will prompt Dickweasel to start singing the shitty trail song. He does not know this song, but will attempt to sing it, misleading the pack into following. They do not know this song either…it just drifts off into nothingness. Perhaps the next time DW starts this song he should be brought into the circle to sit on the ice…

GoatBag and Shunty received down-downs because the RA felt sorry for himself: Shunty missed Philthy’s 21st run anniversary and didn’t realize it until the 25th run, then GoatBag did not even include it in the write up.

Just Jason for missing the first mark and making a complete farce of the hash.

Dickweasel for being un-characteristically Dickweasel.

Just Jason, Hard to Swallow and Long’n Hard for whinging about taking the turkey trail (Stairs Hard had to fill in for H2S)

We adjourned to the Copper Mug afterwards for some more cold beer and steak sandwiches…Brandi even made a surprise appearance to say hi to her favorite Hashers!

We are going to try a Bhash at the next hash – bring your bike next week!!!

On-On,

Shunty

We knew it would only be a matter of time before Mother Nature realized that “for craps’ sake, we’re in Penticton already!!!”, and manage to get us some reasonable spring weather.  Almost as if she had been snapped to attention by some daft fools yelling ‘on-on!’ as they ran past her home…  she groggily peeled herself off her plastic-covered recliner, still in a daze, she glanced over at Dr. Phil spouting nonsense to the masses, and turned the furnace setting to ‘Spring’.  Finally, allowing the whitest of white legs to show themselves at a PH3 run!

BagBoy had the honour on this day, and milked it for all it was worth, requesting the full 10 minutes, and promising that there would be no hills…  Seriously, he promised.  What the pack should have realized was that in BagBoy’s most certainly non-Euclidean universe, ‘no hills’ means something akin to being dropped from a Cessna at 20000 feet.  Without a parachute.

Demonstrating his aptitude as a past Harlem Globetrotter, BagBoy marked his run on this day with the tennis ball + flour technique.  He raved about it, and was very proud of the fact that he purpose-bought a can of balls to celebrate the occasion.  Never before has this reporter seen a man as happy to be the first to touch some balls.  Man did they bounce!  Later, BagBoy reported to me that he did get some interesting looks.

He led the pack south through town, twisting and turning, and sometimes forgetting that the ball should have been fondled a little less, and bounced a little more…  Through the mall parking lot we went, and Hard to Swallow was having trouble staying out of the way of the seniors trying to find parking spots.

Through the parking lot, and at this point, when it seemed obvious – given BagBoy’s disclaimer – that we would be heading back north, Shunty directed the pack up and up again to the east.  There seemed to be a bit of confusion, and Trotsky and Stares Hard were left behind to find the trail on their own devices (which, between the two of them is not saying a lot).  They eventually caught up, and Trotsky bravely let them go ahead again to avoid his wheezing being the cause of a seizure to the other hashers.

At this point, Trotsky, fell back, and decided that a good old fashioned zen was in order along Government street, because he felt that some strength was required to be saved for the end when he would attempt to lay the beat down on BagBoy for making his run so flat.  He saw the pack floundering one block to the east, and truly was feeling good about this zen.  But when the pack turned east again, to go up and over Dartmouth and down the path, he made the fatal flaw of following, and not committing, really committing to the zen.  I highly recommend reading his book “Hashing and the Art of Zenning”, but I digress…  Trotsky found himself stranded on the other side of the creek from the pack, which wouldn’t really have been a problem, had BagBoy been a little less dastardly in his placement of the beer check.  After searching for 50m up the creek (without a paddle, mind you) Shunty showed Trotsky the way, and the entire pack was soon enjoying a crisp bevvie, and basking in the sunlight, extending the BC to a good 35 minutes.  Well worth the run!

The pack quickly started down the path to the On-In and soon were regaling BagBoy with songs, and death threats, at the Mug.

On On!

This report was written on April 14, so quite a time after the hash itself.  If you want to know who got what down-down, ask Shunty – he keeps that information in his vault….