GFH3 Run #1,773; 27 September 2014

Nipples:  "What kind of a person sets a backcheck five on the turkey trail?"  Phoenix Rising:  "Heh heh heh."  Pause.  "At least it was downhill coming back."

Plus, the backcheck was only about halfway up the very long hill..

Although the funnier bit, arguably, was Air Horn beginning the brief with the announcement, "We ran into a few problems on the trail."  Specifically he, setting eagle, and PhR, setting turkey, ran into someone else's marks:  a whole bunch of floury arrows pointing some other people some other way through the Great Falls woods around Riverbend.  Luckily, the outlaw arrows had no cross-hatches, and were not paired with any kind of checks or other deviousnesses, so the hares wrote "GFH3" at frequent intervals on their overlapping trails and hoped for the best.

Another funny bit, actually, was when A.H. said turkey trail was about five miles.  Ha ha ha!  Eagles had a true trail of about six and a half, although Knipple Knocker reported 7.9 miles on his GPS.  Devon probably got more, as between outlaw arrows and Malaysian jetlag, she meandered a long way off trail and didn't make it On In until the search party was forming.

And Spurt is running again!  Welcome back!

Gorgeous weather ensured that ten turkeys and eight eagles (there were only 16 runners, but Blow in the Hole and Bionic Babe, after starting as eagles, mystically and abruptly evolved into turkeys during a moment of inattention, and thus count twice) plus ten walkers, all enjoyed their various excursions and came in smiling.  And kept right on smiling when they saw the big pot of turkey-and-chicken chili (hot sauce on the side, as A.H. did not want to make six different chilis at various levels of spiciness to suit all tastes) and the large pan of barbequed chicken.

The Associate Mufti was enjoying a Nationals win, and the Mufti was... Anyone know where the Mufti was?  Anyway, the roll showed up, so the Assistant Associate Mufti called 34 names (several people showed up late to eat and drink and camaraderie), with no birthdays or double numbers or other excitement.  Nonetheless, everyone in the photos looks pretty happy.

She's smiling in there somewhere.

GFH3 Run #1,758; 25 June 2014

By unanimous acclaim, it was a great trail.  Rrocks Starr, Air Horn and Dances with Bulls set it, and part of its greatness was relative briefness.  Concerned by the threat of intermittent downpours, they kept it short; with the resources of Riverbend Road at their disposal, they made it scenic.  Incidentally, Phoenix Rising asserts that setting with R.S. and A.H. is an invaluable life lesson for every young hasher, and encourages the experience.  Apparently, the two of them carefully analyze placement of each hash mark, with consideration as to moisture content of the ground, relative adhesiveness of bark vs. leaves vs. etc., prevailing winds, forecasted weather conditions, solar flares and numerous other criteria.  DwB confirms that it's not a fast process, but it is educational.

Creek crossings help make a trail great.

So our gang of 26 assembled inside the new dog fencing, where Oscar and Mango promptly tuckered each other out with some rough-and-tumble, then rested a bit, then roughed and tumbled some more, repeat all evening.  About 15 people, including identical-twin whippersnapper Zane, essayed the runners' trail, and only three of them short-cutted.  The walkers spent some time mesmerized by the Falls and, a bit lower down, the kayakers who brave them.  This evening, the watercraft included a paddleboard.  Mufti and Ole Fud witnessed the paddleboarder actually get to his feet and balance briefly in the rapids.  Cool!  I saw him later, coming out of the water with his board balanced on his head.  Versatile!  And not a young man either.  In fact, on the shady side of middle-aged, at least.  New hobby, everyone!

Waterfalls are also good.

Creeks crossed, authority unmolested, the pack reassembled at the R.S.'s, where Christina and Mrs. Costco had laid out a feast of pulled pork and chicken, plus veggie patties and heaps of salad.  Ole Fud anted up the wine, and PhR put 1.7 miles on his GPS going up and downstairs between the beer and the food.  Spurt got his sweets, and Suck Squeeze Bang (foot in a boot; boot in a bag) and Blow in the Hole fought over who loves Oscar more, while R.S. and Christina hovered, having overheard dognapping plans.

Put down the puppy, ladies.  Put him down, and step away.

When the raindrops started to splatter, the food moved indoors, with about half the pack.  When the Mufti moved indoors, he inspired a general migration, and called roll to a full house - or at least full living room.  SSB, who really hates that name, hit 297 and began puzzling over the replacement name.  Zane and Chris celebrated #1s, and just for fun the Mufti made everyone shout for John's #3.  The speed and accuracy with which the group calculated, "97 to the CUP!" was heartening.  Photos here; thanks SSB for help!

SUNDAY!  SUNDAY!  SUNDAY!  Anniversary Hash at P.P.P. and P.P.'s!  Group photo before the run!  Don't miss it!

GFH3 Run #1,747; 12 April 2014

What a day for a celebration, or a small slew thereof.  The sun has finally returned for good, and something like 55 barbarians broke down the gates at Air Horn’s to help him celebrate his something-or-othereth birthday and the marriage, last fall, of his charming daughter Brogue Bait to the delightful Seth.  BB and Seth attracted a whole bunch of whippersnapper friends and relatives, including the ridiculously whippersnapperish Mallory, who hasn’t yet begun to toddle.  The Mount Vernon H3 sent a half-dozen or so representatives, attracted by the 70-degree temps, the woodlands of Great Falls, and the possibility of champagne.

Do this.  Go these ways.  Marks are on the ground, or somewhere.

AH and Pumpmaster set, and Pumpmaster promised to sweep, carrying home any victims of his youthful exuberance in one arm.  Ah, to be young in the springtime, and a professional gym rat.  AH reminded everyone that cars + hashers = danger, and regretted the intrusion of roads into his trail.  Then everyone ran away, except the walkers.  The walkers stayed for advice on where to walk, and then they all strolled away and began ignoring the advice.

If they are going to make days this beautiful, you might as well run around in them.

About an hour after they set out, the runners emerged from Riverbend Park onto Riverbend Road, and then it was only a hop (up onto the shoulder, to be out of the way of the cars), skip (up and down the pipeline hills) and a jump (over a little creek) until they were back at the On In.  Shortcutters finished first, unless they walked their shortcut, in which case they came in after the sweeper.  AH finished his Peruvian-chicken run a few minutes after the last runners arrived.  Everyone fell to with vigor when the hosts started stirring that delicious green sauce Peruvians serve with their chicken.  After a while, with the first hunger pangs sated, the hosts started popping corks, AH sending them high over, and eventually down into, the crowd.  People grabbed their bubbly, added o.j. as desired, and started toasting.  AH also, in an excess of celebratory spirit, demanded his birthday song, which this reporter found unusually painful.  Thanks to Rick for that. 

Heads up! but only if you're wearing safety goggles.

On behalf of the Hash, the Mufti presented the not-that-newlyweds with a handsome hare to decorate their happy home.  AH made the usual pseudo-speech.  The double-barreled cake (vanilla for birthday; chocolate for marriage) was trimmed with the same china cake-toppers that decorated AH and his late wife’s wedding cake 40-ish years ago.  Sweet.

Mufti started roll-calling.  Paula arrived, damaged but undefeated, at the double-4s; was it Sally at double-3s?  Seth made seven.  Land Ho made it to two hashes in a row, and promised to come back really soon.  She’s taken a j-o-b, so Saturdays may be busy for a while, and she’s working at a marina, so the employee discount may make the paychecks moot.  Ole Fud abandoned us for West Point and lacrosse honors, but Double-Breasted Booby flew in from the west coast just to see her favorite hash.  A bunch of people won cheers for their first hashes, huzzah huzzah and 99 to the.  Next week should see Rick and Lori with their new names finally awarded, and Mufti and BC3 will host on the first Wednesday, which is to say 7 May, at the pavilion.  They will, on that occasion, finally achieve their 1,500^th and 500^th runs, respectively.

There are photos of much of the celebration and some of the sunshine right here.

And they lived happily ever after.

GFH3 Run #1,744; 22 March 2014

The first hash of spring brought spring-like temperatures and celebratory sunshine pouring across the ponds, lawns and briar patches of Great Falls.  After dusting himself liberally with flour, the heroic Drill Me, Fill Me opened his home to 37 hashers including head chef Irene and co-hare Air Horn.  DMFM to AH:  “I’m covered with flour, and you’re practically clean.  How did that happen?”  AH showed off his beautiful, custom made (of plastic grocery sacks and duct tape) flour bag in explanation.

Mad Dog, leading the pack as per ;-)

The Mufti, returned from tropical climes on Sunday last, just in time for the 900^th snowstorm of this winter, expressed appreciation for the weather, concern about the lapse in discipline the GFH3 suffered during his absence, and a promise to re-instill said discipline with an iron fist.  Several people chuckled appreciatively.  When AH and DMFM promised no death march, several people huzzahed appreciatively.  The hares also noted that the marks really were on the left, mostly, and that they had permission for a half-dozen or so forays onto private property.

True trail was just under four miles, with a mix of pavement and dirt footing, and at least a couple of fences to traverse.  Walkers went in different directions, some taking and some ignoring the advice of their kind host.  Easy Strider, back on the DL, and I kindly marked checks that the FRBs forgot, those SOBs.  The pack did get a bit strung out, and several runners seem to have gotten confused at the very end of the trail, heading up Springvale (sadly missing an amusing back-check six) or across the back yards of people who hadn’t necessarily granted permission.

Not content with hashing for a hobby, Paint in the Ass and Easy Strider are taking up taxidermy.  Or something.

No buckshot pursued anyone to the On In, and good thing too as it messes up the flavor of the chicken tikka masala.  A wide selection of beers, fruity-nutty salad and tiramisu made the meal complete.  Most everyone sat outside, which is a midge tricky when the pool is still covered, but worth the tip-toeing on a day like this one.

Mufti called roll without incident.  His own 1,497 has apparently been scrupulously audited already.  Chris expressed regret that her years of hashing in foreign parts still doesn’t get her past two at the GFH3.  She is, however, thrilled by the lower-key and lack of down-downs at our country club.  Nobody put a foot through the pool cover, and everybody checked for ticks.  Right?

If you look at the pictures, you will notice a sequence that begins with Air Horn, seen from the left, with both hands together in front of him.  Sadly, you can’t see the snowball he’s packing between those hands.  The subsequent pictures show him readying to throw, Easy Strider getting ready to catch, then catching, then observing the snowball, then laughing at Mini Schlonga, who is brushing snow off his shoulder, then M.S. setting off to supply himself with his own snowball, then one of Gale leaping up to extract snow from her shirt, then Gale chasing M.S.  Hijinks of this sort aren’t the norm for our usually sophisticated hash, but spring fever takes different people different ways.  Thanks for photos, Irene, Beef Strokemoff and Suck, Squeeze, Bang!

The kind of day that makes some of us wish to stop time.

GFH3 Run #1,723; 2 November 2013

Glorious weather, beautiful foliage, and no suspicion that Phoenix Rising had paired up with The Pumpmaster to set the trail combined to induce over 40 hashers to come out to Great Falls today.  (Also about 10,314,612 people to pack onto the Georgetown Pike on their way to Great Falls Park, resulting in a traffic jam extending from the park to the Madeira School, creeping along at about seven mph.)  And, while no formal polling took place, it's not unreasonable to assume everyone enjoyed the event mightily.

Yikes!

Of course, it's entirely reasonable to assume a collective shudder shook the crowd when Chip Off the Old Dick's male parent and Air Horn's male offspring stepped forward to claim credit for engineering the run.  The former is notorious for deciding that he just can't skip this beautiful bit of scenery through here, because people will enjoy it more than enough to make up for the additional 2.7 miles it adds to true trail.  The latter is about 30 and a personal trainer, a profession notorious for believing that people should push themselves just a little bit further.  That's right!  One more!  You can do it!  And how 'bout one more after that!  You can do it!

Well, almost everyone did do it, though Pumpmaster, as sweeper, offered up a nice bit of shortcutting for some of the stragglers.  Gale, seeing confusion in the crowd early in the run (Gale, they are always confused), took off up Beach Mill and finished about 45 minutes ahead of anyone else, and missed several really beautiful bits of scenery.  Those bits of beautiful scenery were enlivened by a thick coating of drying leaves over fair-sized, jagged rocks; bonus yay!  And some of those rocks and leaves were muddy and wet!  And no one returned to the On In via stretcher!

Note challenging footing, skillfully handled.

Note beauty of trail.

I have no idea what the walkers got up to.  I have been away too long and forgotten how to do a Hash blog.  Sorry.  I do know there were a lot of dogs at the event:  Mango, Piper, Espeon, Abby, Kylie, Ralph, some golden-retrieverish pup, maybe more.  The sign on the door to the Horn family hashing suite read, "No dogs," but Air Horn kept inviting them in.  For a cat man, he has a very generous nature.

He's also a generous host, and got in Peruvian chicken for the crowd, with that tasty green sauce, plaintains and some kind of yucca or sweet-potato fries, plus salad and cookies and seven-layer dip and other stuff.  Magnificent, and perfect for the warm-but-starting-to-get-chilly weather and the longish run.

The Mufti called the roll with his usual flair.  Little Ricky Tutu, whom we don't see tutu often (ha ha!), reached number 111 (ooooh) and Moaner Lisa achieved 965.  Somewhat ironically, she advised LRT to "get a life."  Great weather, beautiful trail, good friends, fab food, dogs everywhere and plenty of beer and wine served at appropriate temperatures... how much more of a life does anyone need?

Photos via this link.

GFH3 Run #1,681; 26 Jan 2013

Thirty-four of us (including a host and three hares) got the time right and showed up at 11am in... drum roll, please... flourish of trumpets... make it a kettle drum... GREAT FALLS!  And while we didn't have the sense to start a pool on the number of people who will bang on the Ole Fud's door at 3pm, I'm going to guess three.  And what a hash they missed!  The eagles spent two hours in the not-very snowy woods trying to find pink flour that was melting away with the snow on which it had been dropped, and trying not to crack an ankle as they skidded over wet rocks, wet leaves, and well-packed slush.  But they had a nice bit of sunshine in which to do so, and above-freezing temps, albeit not by much.

The turkeys (and this group is mostly turkeys -- no further comment, please)  were out for over 90 minutes, and the walkers for an hour or more.  The walkers, incidentally, seemed to split up into about a half-dozen splinter groups, and when there are only about eight of you in the first place, that's quite an achievement.

The trail was set by Air Horn, Phoenix Rising and Zipperhead -- each working separately.  So you can understand a) why the trail was relatively lengthy, and b) why the hares weren't sure whether the turkey trail saved runners about a quarter mile or closer to two miles, or something more, less or in between.  Also why there was, perhaps, some sort of an incidente officiele whose details we'd sooner not know...  There was also a great deal of shortcutting, including by our FRB, Valiant.  The eagles you can probably guess, but if you want hints:  Suck, Squeeze, Something... the Not-calm Mechanic... Longa, Schlonga... Difficult Strider...

Valiant explains how, by skillfully not following the trail much at all, he was able to finish the run about 30 minutes before anyone else.

Back in the garage, we had hot soup and bread and cheese and chips and stuff.  You know the expression, "Hunger is the best seasoning"?  Well, it's not true.  Whatever Felicity used in the black-bean soup is the best seasoning.  And the promise of a tour of the trains-and-tracks wing of the Fud estate sharpens the appetite nicely, too.

I read the roll, given the absence of both the Mufti (romantically vacationing on a warm island) and the associate Mufti (undergoing an intensive cheering and smack-talking regimen in preparation for the Big Game).  I have crowned (be-fezzed?) myself the assistant associate Mufti on the spine-chillingly meaningful occasion of my being entrusted with the official roll for the first time ever.  Hip, hip.

Don't I look authoritative?

INDY helped out with the photos; here they are.