Our first hash in Naramata brought out virgins galore. Shunty brought along JustIngrid while Dickweasel and BMSex brought along JustTera, JustMario,  JustGary, and JustMickey.  Our inaugural Naramata hash also featured our first group of walkers.

Circle was a confused affair though Dickweasel did demonstrate the proper down down form for the virgins. Mudhoney provided a thorough chalk talk, despite interruptions from the pack. After a confused consultation with the walkers Mudhoney asked for an inconceivable 20 minute head start and vanished through Manitou park,  with map in hand, 7 gallons of water on her back and icy fear gripping her heart.

The pack kept busy during the interminable wait. Dickweasel zipped off to get more beer, Hard To Swallow looked for socks in vain, and JustTera showed everyone her beaver.

After a generous 15 minute wait the pack cried on on and darted through the park. Stairs Hard lead the way through Naramata’s picturesque streets. Clearly missing last weeks hash had empowered his legs.  The pack passed a family group out for a stroll. As we passed we explained the concept of hashing to their bemusement.

A scant 15 minutes into the trail we ran into our first hold. As the pack reassembled the family group, baby and all, caught up with us. Clearly we were setting a blistering pace. The trail continued up a steep hill. As the pack ascended,  Stairs Hard, still leading the way, was heard to declare, “I think I saw the hare.”

The pack slowly finished the climb and found there at the top, sitting in the shade, in a driveway with a dusty grey cat, a downcast hare. “I’m SOOO tired.”

We forwent the pantsing, instead Dickweasel doused Mudhoney with water.   Mudhoney explained that despite her map, she took a wrong turn up a long hill and just couldn’t get back on the rails. During Mudhoney’s explanation the owner of the driveway emerged and Stairs Hard asked her if she had any beer. She didn’t but she did examine the map and then took us through her beautiful garden to a sheer 30 meter drop. “You could run through here.” she said.

Lo and behold there were two trails. One took Mudhoney back into town so she could catch up with the walkers and set up some semblance of a beer check. The other led through an orchard. After thanking the kind stranger, the pack was off through the orchard which was currently being watered. This had turned sections of the trail into slick mud. The mud soon gave way to thick dust. Mud, dust, sweat and sorrow. We were truly hashing now.  JustIngrid claimed the prize for muddiest shoe.

While the FRBs practiced their surges, Shunty and Dickweasel zenned through an orchard and a construction site, and ended up behind the pack despite their shortcuts. The pack soon found themselves back at Manitou park. There the walkers had already assembled. Mudhoney led those who wished to run a further mile or so on her intended trail to her intended on-in.  After much confused autohashing and whinging, the pack re-assembled in a cool wooded spot for the on in.

Mudhoney was chastened for her cock up of a trail. She accepted her chastening with good grace and all agreed that despite the snafu it was a beautiful day and a beautiful run.

Down downs were then bestowed upon the virgins.

Philthy, MoanerLisa and Hard To Swallow got down downs for being competitive FRBs.

JustTera got a down down for being so damn ENTHUSIATISC.

Dickweasel and Shunty got a down down for horrible zenning.

Stairs Hard got a down down for not noticing the RA had his hat on in the circle.

Hard To Swallow was given a shot and a down down for his 21 hash. He wisely poured most of both down the front of his shirt. (His daughter was just minutes away in Manitou park. She didn’t need to see Daddy liquored up on Tequila shots.)

JustLisa, after a long absence due to a marathon and an injury, was finally named. Due to her smiling face and love of hash culture she was christened MoanerLisa.  JustGary(?) provided a lovely rendition of the song in her honour.

It was lovely day, a lovely run and a truly shitty trail.

On-on

With Penticton finally starting to get some warmth it seemed like a perfect day for hashing. HardToSwallow, replete with backpack o’ beer and a bunch of flour was the Hare for the day, and after a few cursory instructions was off, having been given a 12 minute lead. As it was going to be hot, it was recommended to bring water, and Shunty and Dickweasel availed themselves of a pint beforehand. When it was finally realized that noone had actually started their watches we ambled off, having ignored the hare’s instructions not to watch where he went. Up along the Penticton Creek, heading off for a brief piece of shig and then a leisurely downhill lope where we met the first obstacle…. the Ridgedale stairs, probably the longest set of $#@$ stairs in Penticton and where the kind hare had sent us. Up we climbed, feeling assured that this would probably be the end of the climbing.

Stinky and Hugo (an extremely furry dog) were in the lead and soon disappeared somewhere by their house. This was unfortunate, mainly as the course headed elsewhere a block beforehand. We never saw Stinky or Hugo again, and for all we know they could still be heading up into the hills. We neared the Industrial area and dropped down a nifty trail into a pile of garbage setting the tone for the rest of the run, call it post-apocalyptic decor. Lovely little trails accented by moldering piles of refuse. Oh, and there were more climbs. An interesting piece of road long-since abandoned, and nasty climbs up rock-ridden trails in the heat of the day.

Coming to one check we foolishly remarked how kind the hare was being to show us the way almost immediately, only to be suckered into a back-check just past the wheelchair. Wheelchair? We weren’t sure which of the group it was set up for, but Philthy took Dickweasel for a spin. The Shunt was holding up the rear enjoying the warming sun on his very black shirt. Finally, just above the power station Dickweasel found the beer check, perched on a lovely viewpoint overlooking Ellis Creek canyon to the east. The beer was somewhat suspect as they were all rusty in colour on the bottom. The pack anxiously watched as Dickweasel drank and after seeing he was still alive they all dove in. It was found out later that crushed Advil had been in the bottom of the hare’s backpack and that accounted for the reddish colour. Everyone carries crushed Advil in their backpacks…. don’t they? After a drink or two.. or three, and many photo-ops we re-gathered and followed the trail for about 200 meters till it ended. Then many blocks of zenning later we picked it up again, or the hare started marking again. Anyways, stuff happened and we dropped down the side of the embankment off of Ridgedale where Dickweasel kindly offered to help Mudhoney. Philthy, of the dodgy ankle fame saved the day by tumbling backwards and distracted him with his antics. Back down along the creek we went and ended up where we started.

Downdowns were issued to the following:

HardtoSwallow: For an extremely entertaining, shiggy run, serving us rusty beer, sending us up mountains, down steep hills, not marking for blocks, and many more misdeeds.

Shunty and Bagboy: Calling hashers by their non-Hashers names.

Dickweasel: For once again har-assing Mudhoney under the guise of chivalry.

Mudhoney: For celebrating her birthday. I think we sang… it wasn’t good, but it had heart.

On on!