GFH3 Run #1,789; 3 January 2015

 Solo set by Pickled Peter; turkey dinner by Mimosa Mary; roll call by Valiant?  That's the rumor -- or those are the rumors?

And no one went in the pool...

Frequent heroism can earn a couple an annual candy bar.  Whoo hoo.

GFH3 Run #1,783; 29 November 2014

HEROES!!

Per a reliable informant:  "We had 26 in attendance, only 6 of whom did not check the time and thus showed up at 3pm instead of 2pm.  Weather very kind.  Run standard Great Falls set by the intrepid Strac and the more-than-intrepid Dances with Bulls.  They found Gurr Hill at the top and took everyone down to the river on their backsides.  Leaders came in at 50 minutes, shades of Hashes of old, and most heartwarming, the leader was Easy Strider -- after over two years of struggle with Lyme disease, the old energy and drive was in evidence."

GFH3 Run #1,782; 27 November 2014 [Thanksgiving]

We are all thankful for hash heroes and frequent hosts -- especially, somehow, on holidays when they have other things they need to be doing -- Packing Pink Heat and Pickled Peter.

Saturday heroics from Ole Fud, Strac and Dances with Bulls AT 2:00 PM!!

Thankful for hash friendships (Nov 2013)

Just love this photo.

GFH3 Run #1,775; 11 October 2014

From Valiant:

A combination of the noon start time and the morning rain resulted in the lowest turnout this year.  We had only 18 stalwart hashers, including the host, evenly split between runners and walkers.  The rain stopped before the run began, and the the hash set off on a relatively short but challenging course, which included some virgin territory, stream crossings,  and several muddy stretches near the river.  All arrived back within slightly more than an hour, with no serious mishaps to report, not counting the usual confusion about markings.  There was enough food for 50 and enough beer and wine for 60.  It was warm and dry enough to gather outdoors. Valiant showed off his new pool side pergola, and the Oral Advocate both called the roll and audited the Mufti.  Some of the old timers recalled the origin of their nicknames.  The front field was empty of cars by 3:30pm.

Archival Valiant

Archival Phyllis

FOR NEXT WEEK:  Please wear red, white and blue in celebration of GFH3 hash #1776!

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 #1,772; 20 September 2014

The hash opened its fall/winter season with the Mufti's announcement that the next four weeks are already dibsed by eager hosts and hares, and then Spurt and Bad Dog (as proxy for Little Ricky Tutu) and maybe someone else created a foofaraw in competing for the one remaining October date.  The lesson drawn by Our Fearsome Leader?  Sign up now for a November slot!  Easy Strider:  "Isn't November usually the most popular..." [drowned out by chanting]

Controversy!  Is this the best weather ever, or was the Anniversary Hash the best weather ever?

Today was the perfect day for hosting, which is why Flowerkraut picked it.  The skies over Great Falls were balmy and blue, and the temps perfect for shorts and t-shirts with a light sheen of sweat, plus one kimono.  So 15 runners followed myriad pointing fingers to the creek, jogged downstream to the turkey/eagle split and mostly chose the eagle.  (Bubbles, briefing:  "True Turkey trail is about three miles; the Eagle about four, but it feels like five.")  There was some fairly tame shiggy and bushwhackery, and maybe a bit of new territory -- certainly terrain that Phoenix Rising hasn't trodden in many years.  Plus, an abandoned tent and a seemingly abandoned truck, and a backcheck five at the very end that brought Nipple Knocker in just behind the FRBs.  Isn't he good to find the nice backcheck for everyone?  The walkers braved the creek and strolled down to the Potomac, and found it looking hale and appropriately pastoral.

Oh, if the Marine Corps knew what he was doing with that training...

The On In offered beer in cans -- Flowerkraut loves Simpler Times -- plus Black Box wine and a bottle of bubblesy, Caribbean-style ham casserole (black-eyed peas for vegetarians), salad with tomatoes from E.S.'s garden, watermelon from same and oatmeal cookies warm from the oven.  The 24 hashers who'd managed to figure out this whole Saturday-afternoon-time-change thing basked in the sunshine from the redwood deck, counting critters spotted:  one fox, one turtle, a black snake, many deer, and approximately 7,000 cobwebs, with which pretty much everyone was festively festooned.  Also a frog, on which Matt, or maybe someone else, almost stomped.  You must not step on frogs!

No one's used to leaving the hash before sunset, and Flowerkraut likes people to stick around.

The Mufti had much to celebrate in his roll call.  Blow in the Hole made it back to the Hash, since no one schedules music-history classes for Saturday afternoons.  Paula made 55, ooh.  Todd and Candy made #1, although as their "Got Shiggy?" shirts made clear, that's #1 for the GF, not for the H3.  Perhaps they will become regulars with us, as they once were with the Okinawa H3 -- but they've got a lot of hashing options in the DC area.  If you take a look at the pictures (thanks, Irene and NipK!), you might quite reasonably think nothing could get better than the GFH3.

GFH3 Run #1,771; 17 September 2014

Drill Me, Fill Me had the house, the pool and the weather for a great hash, but his surgery schedule got in the way of setting a great trail, so Pickled Peter and Phoenix Rising showed up with their flour bags.  PhR had a route planned, "but Pickled Peter wanted to do something shorter."  And, per PhR, they set PP's route.  Everyone say, "Thank you!"  The fun backcheck nine at the very start of the run was his idea, too!

The last shall be first, except Nipple Knocker, who shall just be first.

There were several permissions required for the route, which wended its way down Springvale, into the woods, over to Utterback, back into the woods, up Buttercup, across a field and back into what one hasher termed, "real shiggy," which required bent-down running, and then up Springvale and home again, almost all 20 of them, well before sunset.  A well-set trail, with a handy built-in shortcut, that kept the main pack nicely bunched.  The 14 walkers enjoyed the warm, sunny evening with a variety of different routes, including a Valiant Tree Walk option.

Everyone enjoyed a buffet of Chinese food, the pack nicely bunched to debate what was pork, what was chicken and what was tofu.  It was all delicious.  Beverages were plentiful, and the pool inviting.  Not inviting enough to overcome the chill of a late summer night, so its waters remained unmolested, but at least one of us was seriously tempted.

Hot or cold, lit or not, everyone loves to sit around a fire.

The Mufti called the roll, welcoming back Amanda and Alex, celebrating the tardy return of Air Horn after an absence (without leave) of two months, and leading the cry for Peter's number one.  (Peter, an experienced global hasher, approved the Great Falls version.)  Mufti somewhat more decorously led a cheer for the very special guests:  DMFM's parents were kind enough to join us.  (We also got a daughter, Young Fud.)  Finally, Our Fearsome Leader raised an imperious hand and declared the spring/summer GFH3 hashing season over, announcing that it had been the best spring/summer hashing season ever.  He invited everyone to join him Saturday at Flowerkraut's at 3:00pm for the opening of the fall/winter hashing season, which he predicted would be the best fall/winter hashing season ever.  We can hope he's right -- but when is he ever wrong?

Photos right here - none yet from Radar, but this one from the Mufti.  Thanks!

"A Colorful Group of Walkers"

GFH3 Run #1,770; 10 September 2014

As you know, Zipperhead takes great pride in discovering some stretch of dirt, no matter how small, through which he has not previously set, for each of his runs.  Thus he claims to have included virgin territory in all but one of 54 runs he has hosted since June 1986.  (And in that one exception, he got a few friends to don quasi-virginal attire and bang tambourines or something.)  In celebration of the six-month anniversary of his four bypasses, tonight's trail continued the streak.  With Dances with Bulls lending her crafty mind as well, the hares achieved about five miles of true trail, with two disorienting loops contained within the larger loop - which Zh believes is also a first.

Zh and DwB ensured their marks were clear and true by driving most of the trail as the runners ran it, and parking by the more confusing of the cross-over points.  Whether they achieved any satisfaction in watching the 20 runners scramble, unscramble and re-scramble themselves [repeat] is not recorded.  Certainly they successfully re-set the marks required to ensure the pack worked through the second loop as successfully as they had the first.  Clever pack!

Sticking together nicely.

Eleven walkers enjoyed a very small part of the runners' trail, and all made it back to the house before dark, while the runners were still thrashing about in the woods, leaping over fallen branches and unscrambling themselves from the briars.  Headlamps and flashlight apps brightened the ever-earlier dusk.  Fortunately, though the evening was humid, the temperature wasn't outlandish, which helps keep a backcheck six entertaining instead of infuriating.

The On In seemed unusually crowded, and 35 people looked more like 50.  Maybe that's because so many of them were crowded around the table, nibbling on brownies while they waited for their turn at Phlashback's paella.  Praise for the wine offset diffidence towards the beer.

The Mufti, finding no double-number runs on his roll call, tried to make something of this being run #1770, but no one took him up on it.  So he looked again, and realized... HE MISSED SOMEONE!  It transpired that Mini Schlonga, having achieved run 199 back in June, and 199.5 in August, and 199.75 last week, had finally tripped the odometer to reach 200.  [Shouts, cheers, jeers]  So Mufti pulled out his fez [cheers, jeers, salaams], admitted that in the two months since the Exec Comm meeting he'd mislaid the list the possible names [sympathetic murmurs], and noted the Honoree's fashion sense, lack of sense regarding distances appropriate to a hash founded on the theory that three miles are plenty [jeers and lots of them], and app collection.  Valiant pointed out the Honoree's slender ankles.  [cries of befuddlement]  The Mufti then shouted the new nickname to the skies:  NIPPLE KNOCKER!  All the blonde women in the crowd demanded an exhibition of the inspiration for such a name, at which N.K. became uncharacteristically modest.

Let the knock-knock jokes commence!

Maybe next week he'll show up shirtless at Drill Me Fill Me's at 6:30. That's right, it's another early start next week. Only one person arrived in time for a 7:00 start this week; see if you can guess whom from the photos here.

Slender, yet strong, fast and flexible.

GFH3 Run #1,759; 29 June 2014 - 32nd Anniversary

Mufti may say whatever he likes, but if today doesn't constitute perfect Hash weather, there is even more wrong with this group than we thought.  Blue skies, golden sunshine, low humidity, blissful warmth without a shred of too-hot-ness, and a light breeze to blow the insects elsewhere:  happy anniversary, everyone!

Everything you need for a party.

Approximately 63 hashers gathered at Packing Pink Heat and Pickled Peter's this afternoon to celebrate the beer, exercise and camaraderie arising from John Gurr's Costa Rica trip of May 1982, 32 years ago.  Chairs were unfolded, picnic contributions piled under the tent, blankets spread.  Prodigal returns were celebrated:  welcome back, John and Carol and Mike and Cock in the Crease.  Hashers marshaled themselves around the satin-jacket club and Hand Job volunteered to push the shutter button for the team photo.  In the midst of some serious to-ing and fro-ing and chatter, the Mufti prayed silence for the brief.

And may well still be praying.  Goodness knows, he didn't get much silence.  However, by great good fortune, the 29 runners did get a trail - not a result of good organization, of course, and the fortune augmented just a skosh by Phoenix Rising's OCD-ish complex that compels him to set a trail anytime anyone asks.  In fact, there are probably instances when he's set trail without being asked...

Hurrah!  We found a backcheck!

Anyway, PP hauled in PhR at about noon, and away they went, with only vague ideas as to where they might go.  The final product was on the short side, and deliciously sweet -- mostly.  While the walkers followed PPH's well-marked two-mile trail, the runners bushwacked their way to Springvale, checked lots of falses, made it to the backcheck 12 (on a trail this short, you've got to have a backcheck 12), and then skittered back to the On In through a brief sojourn in virgin territory, courtesy of the fourth neighbor from whom our heroic hares sought a permission.  Up the final hill in time for a generous potluck and a shot at the newly, and beautifully, tiled pool, hip hip ON ON!  The walkers looked curiously well-rested.

There were some seriously tasty salads on offer, and lots of fried chicken in various configurations.  The spaghetti with pesto went surprisingly well with Spanish wine cadged from neighbors, and the senior hashers managed to figure out how to tap the four mini-kegs.  Then Brent upped the ante with a growler of homemade raspberry wheat beer.  He should do that more often.

Lunch!

It was a great party, and it only got better when the Mufti started shouting.  First he shouted the roll:  11 for Melisande, 33 for Phyllis, and didn't someone have 44?  Mini Schlonga had 199, and there will be a meeting of the Executive Committee.  But first the Mufti had to wax nostalgic, putting on his thinking-fez in order to reminisce about the previous year, handing awards around for especial achievements.

If falling down and whacking one's head is an especial achievement, there is even more wrong... whoops.  Tabled.  But Blow in the Hole and Rrocks Starr did win generously-sized bandages to prepare them for the next time.  (Mufti kindly applied the bandages to their foreheads; BitH had to switch hers to the back of her head, as that's where she aims.  Or something.)  Drill Me, Fill Me got a sheaf of hand-written permission slips in honor of his March trail, which involved about a half-dozen permissions from neighbors.  You can read the text of Mufti's document in the photos here.  Consensus was that he should share them with Valiant.

The Cracked Head, or Conked Noggin, Award goes to...

But Valiant had his own award coming, and was soon waving a sprig of lovely maple leaves in appreciation of the excellence of the educational tree walks he frequently leads for his fellow hashers.  Bad Dog got a necklace signifying his possibly-OCD'ish commitment to hashing, with six big 'beads' for the six big anniversaries he celebrated in a single week last fall, including his 300th GFH3 run.  Climax Investigator earned a brand new glider that will enable him to commute between his California home and the hash at no cost and without the damaging carbon footprint of his current system.  The Mufti himself earned the coveted Velvet Glove award for inflicting the iron fist of discipline upon the hash, albeit with limited success.

He then declared the 2013-2014 season 'The Year of the Chef,' bringing forward seven of our most culinarily-talented colleagues.  Remember Paula's Portuguese feast?  How about Lezley's Irish extravaganza?  Brent's home-brewed, Air Horn's Peruvian chicken, PPH's Thanksgiving brunch, Bite Me's New Year's brunch, and Chip Off the Old Dick and Maria's every groaning (over-)board.  Someone (you may guess who) will get the Chef of the Year award the next time Mufti sees her, possibly in South Reston, maybe in the rain... COtOD and I earned fireworks-y looking things for foolishly frequent hash heroics.

Papa John ought to have been in this group.

Mufti meant to take a moment to remember Bea 'To Bea or Not to Bea' Ross and Jim 'It's Too Long' Westlake, both lost to us in the last year.  You were probably thinking of them anyway, but if your current activity is conducive to a brief memorial now, you may remember them both smiling.  They were both great smilers.

Then we had the administrative awards:  Ménage à Trois and the Oral Advocate were missing, but Radar and PhR and PPH and PP and I got a choice of crackers or chocolates (like that's a choice?!) in appreciation of photo-taking, frequent setting, anniversary hosting and blogging.

Celebrations over, the Mufti made his sad, serious face, and announced the runners-up for the Dread Death March award.  Second runner-up was the July run from R.S.'s house, which he co-set with PhR, BitH and Dances with Bulls.  First runner-up was the September run from Ole Fud's, in which he and Strac and PhR accidentally mislaid a check, causing the pack to run a really long time in the absolutely wrong direction, wondering why there was no flour anywhere.  And the 'winner' of the 2014 Death March award was (da da da da da da da da da):  Phoenix Rising, for his 4 June hash in which inclement weather and an ambitious trail conspired to make a record three search parties necessary to get everyone back to the beer.  Could happen to anyone, really.

The thing is, he did send out search parties.  There's no rule that anyone has to search for anyone.  Plus, he told everyone to turkey.  And the first search was only because of the rain.  It's not like a hare can control the rain.

And yay, hooray, hip hip ON ON to the GFH3.  Here's to another 32 years, etc. etc.  Best to end on a high note, so no mention of that whole Executive Committee meeting thing.  Thanks to Mufti, PPH and PP for organization and set-up, to PhR for emergency trail-setting and trash disposal, and to Cocked and Loaded and Queen Cobra for the wine, and Brent for the beer.  And whoever brought the spaghetti with pesto.  Also the pool looks gorgeous and feels even better.  Plus whoever's operating the weather these days, and the kids and wives who joined us and just make the whole thing that much more festive, and all the dogs who behaved so well and Suck Squeeze Bang for taking a turn with the camera.  And more.

Out in the rest of the world, Thanks for the Mammaries was celebrating GFH3's 32nd atop Denali, and Cums Too Fast got so excited he swam all the way around Key West, 12 miles of chop in about eight hours.

Cutest baby award goes to...

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 #1,757; 18 June 2014

Thanks, Ole Fud!

GFH3 Run #1,755; 4 June 2014

The listing said that Cracked Pot would be co-hosting, so of course the hash turned out in its legions to welcome her home from the Great North.  (Mitchell on gardening in Vancouver:  "We don't have mosquitoes.  There's no poison ivy.  We get very few squirrels.")  Her former neighbor, Phoenix Rising, with help from Chip Off the Old Dick, laid out a very pretty runners' trail with several permissions from the neighbors and a turkey/eagle split with all-new territory for the eagles.  Sadly, none of the 28 runners actually completed it... although there were some noble efforts.

Welcome home!

So what happened?  Seriously, two weeks ago, we had a 4.25 mile true trail, and only the three hashers who left twenty minutes early finished, and that in the dark.  Last week, we had about a four mile true trail, and everyone completed it just fine, albeit in well-faded light.  This week, PhR heard the hash thrashing about in the woods on the far side of Difficult Run as he waited on the near side with a water stop, and said, "&$!#, they're going to be another ten or fifteen minutes at least."  Since it was already nearing 8:00pm, he called an audible and dashed up the Pike to the turkey/eagle split, requesting that everyone please play turkey tonight.  Lemme tell ya, it's a weird thing to hear PhR asking people to turkey.  Bad Dog resisted the plea, COtOD elected to sweep after him, a few people hopped into the Rising van, and everyone else turkeyed.

About where the swear words started.

Needing a place to turn the car, PhR was excited to see that Towlston has re-opened -- the bridge repaired.  So he could head straight home along Old Dominion, except there he saw the pack again, not as far along as he would have liked and not as clearly visible, given it was truly dark by then.  Marking the back-check seemed insufficient, and he opted to collect a caravan of cars and auto-hash everyone back.  Sadly, the caravan had not made it to the collection point before the lowering sky did its whole pouring-buckets thing, and by the time the runners made it back, they were each and every one soaked to the bone.

There's 1.5 miles still to go, and all of it woods.

Luckily, there was hot-n-tasty Chinese food waiting for them, and plenty of it, as ten walkers and some miscellaneous extras restrained themselves nicely.  (Plus the Risings went heavy on their order, since a bunch of neighbors came over to see the Pots, too.)  The fridge was stocked with beer (Vienna Lager amongst others, out of Lexington, Virginia) and there were several Black Boxes for the wine contingent.  PhR made a special effort to find, and force into his van, the eagles -- who included the early starters Paddle My Candee Ass, Big Balls on Deck and Norm.  We lost Sean to the woods and the storm, but a search party eventually located him, and brought him back in time for the end bits of the roll call.

Runners return

And get well fed for their efforts

Mufti performed his duties with his usual élan, offering C.P. ten bonus runs if she knew her count; she was off by about 40.  Oh, well.  Cums on  a High Note, who more than ever ought to be known as Long Time Cumming, didn't know hers, either.  The three newbies knew theirs:  Alex, his dad and Chris are all at #1, and we look forward to their second runs, very soon.  As everyone agreed the trail tonight was great, and beautiful, and well worth running, maybe we'll see it again someday -- on a Saturday, for instance, in early autumn.  Easy Strider requested I take a photo of dried blood, and proposed the thigh you'll see in the photos here.  If you can guess whose thigh it is, there's something wrong with you.

MUFTI CONFIRMS THE 32nd ANNIVERSARY HASH WILL TAKE PLACE AT PICKLED PINK HEAT AND PACKING PETER'S ON SUNDAY 29 JUNE.  MARK YOUR CALENDAR!!

GFH3 Run #1,754; 28 May 2014

Radar's plea for assistance did not go unheeded, and he spent the afternoon with his buddy Valiant, throwing enough flour on the streets, trees and mailboxes of Great Falls to survive the threatened thunderstorms that didn't actually manifest.  So the 42 hashers who made their way to the garage this evening were doubly delighted:  the trail was enthusiastically well marked, and the weather was warm and reasonably sunny, if a touch humid.

Runners

The 26 runners got an under-five mile true trail, and mostly managed to complete it by dark.  The 5-K contingent made appropriate shortcuts.  Walkers, just 11 of them, got a pleasant, and well-marked, loop along Thimbleberry.  The well-bandaged Beef Strokemoff and Kimball did a little checking up on the local real-estate market, while Tastycakes rested up back at the On In.  She was fresh from nine miles in the Blue Ridge, helping Dad and Brother prepare for their attempt on Denali in a week and a half.

Miles, kilometers - there are no rules.

Arriving back at the garage, the hash found chips and guacamole as well as wine, beer and water.  Of course, just behind that there's...  THE POOL!  Radar's solar array had brought the water to a pleasant 84 degrees, which was enough to tempt a handful of swimmers, a few feet-sticker-inners, and one cannonball that only splashed a few electronic devices and a couple handfuls of chips.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, Radar started bringing out his barbequed chicken, crispy on the outside and juicy in the middle like it's supposed to be.

This is eerily similar to a picture from about one year ago...

The Mufti being absent without leave, the Associate Mufti shouted the roll, barely heard over the roar of the three mini waterfalls in the pool.  There were four newcomers; welcome Sean, Donna, Will and Will's father-in-law who is not named Justin.  Walks on Water made a special appearance, as did Heats it UP and Jeffy Lube, whom we don't usually see on Wednesdays.  Mini Schlonga was back after too long an absence (work, work, work, plus dehydration severe enough to warrant a couple visits to the E.R.).  They're all in the pictures.

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 #1,746; 5 April 2014

One of the things that makes hashing so much fun is that once or twice a year you get to host, and when you do, you have no idea whether 26 people will show up, like last week in the rain, or 56 people, like this week in the bright sunshine.  Of course if you’re Valiant, and have a reputation for bringing the sun, a birthday to celebrate, and a track record of amusing things like apologetic police intervention happening at your hashes, you probably plan for the higher end of the range.

On on!

Of course, with more people gathered, it’s easier to lose someone, or several someones, and this was a hash of many losses.  Who would have predicted that at the outset?  We had, after all, great weather.   Valiant offered a well-marked trail through beautiful territory, and warned against following the less reliable runners.  There was a promise of cake at the On In.  So the pack took off into an innocent Great Falls spring, and wended its way north and downriver, shoving deer out of the way as needed.  Chip Off the Old Dick was so pleased with the scenery that he took what he thought was a longer route, and wound up way in front.  Missing his friends, he chose one of the many checks to essay what was surely a false trail, and headed back to True when he heard the hounds hallooing.  Most of the pack was keeping together nicely, and emerged from the woods to jog through South Down on the appropriately-named Bliss Lane.  A splinter group of short-cutters rejoined the pack from the east, which seems like it ought to have been a long-cut, and Jeffy Lube, after a late start, came pounding down Springvale at the end.

Almost Bliss

The runners joined the walkers over multiple pans of lasagna and eggplant parmesan, and a wonderfully tangy salad, Black Box wine and a variety of beers.  The clouds massed and the crowd donned jackets and sweatshirts.  Blow in the Hole asked whether anyone had seen New Sandra, and the question spread.  Reports emerged that she’d been seen walking with several others.  As brains and memories sparked and fizzed, Sandra and co. strolled in from their walk.  Heats it UP is almost certainly to blame for the dilatoriness, as she tends to take the expression, “Let’s just go a little farther,” just a little too far.  Job Blow, asked whether he’d been worried that she’d gone missing, attested, “Well, I was just starting to wonder about that.”

The Mufti started the roll, and Suck Squeeze Bang got in the car to go hunt for Heater Beater, another late-starter.  She almost ran him over as he rounded the corner into the driveway.  Mufti was excited by Paul’s double-sixes, his own 1,498.5, three first-timers, the return of Pulls Out Early and Land Ho, Job Blow’s 400^th, Zipperhead’s newly-zippered thoracic cavity and its enhanced capacity, and Valiant’s birthday.  We were all excited by such an eventful roll, though tempered with concern that no one had seen Paula for a really long time.  The cake finished and Job Blow re-named (Cums and Blows, maybe? [no, it's actually Blows and Goes -ed, months later]), search parties organized themselves and headed out in different directions via foot, car and bike.  It was getting really quite chilly when an unfamiliar car pulled in with Paula in the passenger seat, and the searchers were recalled.  Paula had also started late, and on losing her companion decided to turn around and go back before it got any colder.  A wrong turn or two took her way far off trail, with the temperature dropping and no one in sight.  No banjo music, but plenty of other alarming encounters eventually brought her to Bea and Dave in Loudon County, who thrust her into a warm car and drove her down the Pike to us.  Paula resolves never to run alone in Great Falls again.

It does not matter WHEN they put the cake out; you are NOT ALLOWED to eat cake until AFTER the birthday song.

Meet the rescuers in the photos.  Also, Mufti asked me to post the thank-you note Blow in the Hole sent to the GFH3 care-of him; so here it is.  Finally, click here to read about Joyce S.’s daughter’s best friend, Jaime Rowley, killed in March while running in Ashburn.  Her friends and family have raised over $100,000 to help fund her daughters’ educations, and are considering spreading the effort to the families of other runners injured or killed while pursuing their sport.

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.