“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.