“Perfect Hash weather,” the Mufti congratulated hares and hosts before
the brief began. Perfect, indeed – or at least it may have been in
San Diego, maybe, or one of those Mediterranean islands like Capri. Perhaps Phuket, in Thailand, is experiencing
an idyllic spring, but in Oakton this afternoon, we had a firm, steady rain and
not quite enough Fahrenheits to make it feel friendly. On the plus side, these conditions weed out
the fair-weather hashers, leaving us with a close-knit, élite group of 26 to
brave the elements in our various ways.
Big Balls on Deck briefed the team, explaining that the rain had
probably washed away most of the Xs and many of the Ons, so, y’know, good
luck. He also advised that credit for
any good parts of the trail go to Paddle My Candee Ass and Mini Schlonga, while
complaints regarding less-good parts be directed to him. It’s easier to be gracious like that when
you’re 6’5”, don’t you think?
Haaashing in the rain; I'm haaashing in the rain; what a glooooorious feeeling [jazz hands, everybody!] I'M HAAAAAPPY AGAIN! |
So ten runners slid down the wet clay hillside to the trail, while 11
walkers split up into at least four contingents. One of those contingents was BC3, who made it
as far as the car, which she then drove to Target, claiming later that she had
the most challenging route of the day.
The runners will take leave to disagree; their four-mile true trail
included plenty of mud and at least one stream that hadn’t been there in the
morning. Dances with Bulls went in
mid-way up the calf; rumor has it that Air Horn wound up practically swimming
the thing. They were further slowed down
by scores of trees that were generating fluffy white foam at their bases, which
looked confusingly like flour – although the actual flour was mostly shades of
yellow-brown by the time the hashers found it.
Nonetheless, not much more than an hour after the brief, the Davis deck was thick
with successful and now semi-dressed hashers changing into dry things.
So happy he did not have to hash on Sunday, when today's rain ceded to giant chunks of frozen slush. |
Once re-dressed, they headed indoors to where Jill, Norm and PMCA had ensured several groaning boards of pulled pork, beans, chicken
slices, four salads? or five?, and a multi-veggie casserole, plus chips and
dips and cheese on every surface and brownies somewhere. Many, many bottles and one Black Box of wine
and a beer selection that included a growler and Warrenton’s finest Bust Head
English Pale Ale enabled everyone to wash down as much food as they could stuff
into themselves.
Mufti announced his own 1,497th run, and his dear wife’s 497th. Coincidence?
Hmmm... But if he stays home for
the next 20 years, she can catch him up.
Boom Boom reached five, Phoenix Rising 700, and Irene the double-6s (600
to the Number of the Beast!). Dave, who
volunteered a portion of his lawn for Drill Me Fill Me’s trail last week, chose
this as his first hash (99 to the cup!) and he and his brand-new sneakers got
thoroughly baptized.
After threatening "another boring Mufti run" Our F.L. helped host this one instead by bringing dessert around the room. |
For a visual lesson in stream-jumping form, check out the photographs here. (That first one, of BBoD – he is
making a funny face on purpose. Never
mind why.) For a sunshiny beautiful
hash, keep your fingers crossed and your aura shiny, and join us at Valiant’s
next week.