GFH3 Run #1,784; 6 December 2014

Rough Cut Rides to the Rescue!  Hash Hero Does it Again!  Not only did he provide a warm, dry place for 18 hashers to gather, with Easy Strider for the assist he laid a well-marked four-plus mile trail around Leesburg, with enough mud and rock to keep it amusing.  Intermittent downpours made setting amusing for our hosts, until E.S. shook both fists at the firmament and shouted, "Is this the best you've got?!"  Allegedly, they were subject to nothing worse than drizzles after that.  More news from the set:  they had to stop at a grocery store and pick up additional flour.  Imagine those two showing up in your baking goods aisle, soaking wet and squeaking clay across the floor.

Happy birthday to Dr. Pecker, PhD!

Seven runners essayed the course, six forwards and one backward (on purpose), and they mostly seem to have checked almost every false trail, so that Jeffy Lube claimed almost seven miles on his GPS.  Chip Off the Old Dick, exploring the mud with his usual commitment, wound up far behind the others, re-checking the falses and returning late, covered with glitter.  He claims he doesn't know where that came from, either.  One colleague guessed mica in the rocks; another guessed strip clubs just across the state line.

Mud plus rocks!

Over on the walkers' side, they mostly toured Leesburg, with the Mufti and Ole Fud covering over three miles, including several circuits of the train store, and barely beating the runners back.  No one got too terribly wet, though a steady drizzle ensured enthusiasm for dry socks back at the On In.  There was also considerable enthusiasm for the pizza, the Oklahoma/Oklahoma game and the Heineken.

The Mufti was of course enthusiastic over his roll call, congratulating our host on his heroics as well as his 898th run, and the former Drill Me, Fill Me, previously known as Open Wide and Swallow, on his 300th run with its concomitant new name, which is either Dr. Jaws or Jawbreaker, depending on who was shouting the loudest.  Mufti also asked, again and again, "Is anyone desperate to host next week?"  Receiving a reverberant silence in response, he invited everyone to his and BC3's place for brunch.  That's a NOON START on Saturday.

Blow in the Hole helped with the photos; thanks!

GFH3 Run #1,763; 23 July 2014

Well!  This streak of folks who haven't hosted for a while stepping up to host is all to the good, as the Oral Advocate proved with a short run and a great dinner.  And even the threat of thunderstorms couldn't keep 25 of us from gathering under the pavilion, in the heat and humidity and a low, dense mass of gunmetal gray clouds, to enjoy all the heroic host had to offer.

First, he promised no poison ivy.  Next, he promised that short run, claiming to have heard complaints.  Finally, he sent the pack of 18 runners away, so he could nip back home and retrieve the turkey and beef he'd been smoking since 2:00pm.  Yowsa!

The pack zoomed away up the street, crossed the parkway to circle behind the pool, and took to the trails by the time (about 7:28pm) those clouds starting hurling rain and lightning upon the earth.  The much smaller walking contingent had almost made it back under cover by then, as they chose to keep the walking really brief - up the street to Mufti's to return Mango and her houseguest, Oscar, to the safety and comfort of roof and walls.  O.A. assured the only-slightly splattered walkers that the runners should be mostly under trees by now.  Relieved of that almost overwhelming worry, the walkers then felt free to talk about beer.

They didn't walk far enough to work up a sweat, so you know all the dark patches are rain.

The runners were all back by about 8:00pm, entirely cheerful and with about three miles, or a bit more, on the GPSes.  Happy as they were with the run, they were ecstatic at the sight of the carvery station O.A. had improvised, with its array of sandwich fixins and himself at the board, knives in hand.  The poor man thought he'd smoked enough meat for at least 30, and would be enjoying leftover beef for dinner for several days.  Not so much:  the hungry and appreciative hashers demolished pretty much every scrap of meat available.  People who had the turkey thought it so good they should try just a slice or two of beef, and vice versa, and eventually everyone stopped pretending and just said, "I'll have another sandwich, thanks!"  So O.A. moved on to slicing watermelon, and passed that around until the crowd was sated.  Looks like it's leftover chips and lettuce this week, dude.

Thanks for the photo, Ronda!

As the watermelon made the rounds, the Mufti began his roll call, alerting all to the presence of Just One More, who's been AWOL since sometime in the 90s.  (Well, it feels like that long.)  So tonight he showed up with a great contusion around the right eye, having wrestled a bicycle and lost earlier in the day.  Offered ten bonus runs if he knew his current run count, JOM guessed 262, and got a Bronx cheer and 235.  Katy, back after a respite of seven years, came thisclose to winning her bonus, but missed it by one, and hence moves forward to a respectable 14.  Justin and Ronda both had easy guesses, at #1; Matty earned #2, and the Mufti hit one thousand, five hundred fifteen -- the double 15s!

Rough Cut is closing in on 900, and celebrated by heroing up for next week.  That's right, we're off to Leesburg!  The boss will understand if you need to duck out early.  If you're interested in what we looked like this week, check here for photos.

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 #1,755; 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 #1,753; 21 May 2014

Zipperhead runs again!  Valiant does not, though the knee went well and looks fantastic (see photo here).  Phoenix Rising also eschewed running in favor of resting his newly-refurbished eyes.  Robin, the hip saga continuing, nonetheless joined Valiant and five other walkers for a tree tour of South Reston.  A complete accounting of the various body parts and their aches and surgeries would take us all week, so there it rests (as does Suck, Squeeze, Bang's foot in its orthopedic boot).

What with work and traffic and light conditions, Wednesdays can make a tough host.  With no one signed up as of Tuesday afternoon, I thought the Buffalo Wing Factory in Reston, where Nipples and Bite Me hosted last July, would make a good On In this week.  Too bad I know so little of the plentiful local trails!  With a few tips from Chip Off the Old Dick and the help of Google's map pedometer, I spent Tuesday evening plotting a tidy little course of about four miles, as you can see here.  So on Wednesday, 'hosting' was just a matter of warning the good people at the Factory and Pub to expect us, and strolling through the woods with a bag of flour and a few sticks of chalk.  Setting, at a dawdle, took 3.5 hours.  And then the heavens sundered, and the storm thundered down.

HEROES!!

Thankfully, Blow in the Hole had already volunteered to leave early and freshen up any marks that got washed away by the deluge, and when Paddle My Candee Ass and Big Balls on Deck elected to join her, we had sufficient reading glasses and map-reading skills to feel confident of success.  Another eleven runners and six walkers having gathered by 7:05, we had a tidy little hash ready to take on the overcast evening.

Sadly, only our valiant band of three completed the true trail.  Apparently the not-early contingent took so many false trails that most of them turned back at the 7-11, leaving Pickled Peter, Air Horn and Radar to carry on.  By the water stop, those three had over four miles on the GPSes and at least two more to go, and it was 8:00 and darkening fast.  No one remembers what happened next.

TOO DARK!!

But soon everyone (except BitH, PMCA and BBoD) was tucked up cozily at the Wing Pub, and snacking on pizza and wings and salads and IPAs with gusto.  Do we all agree that the waitstaff there handles our group admirably?  They seem completely unfazed by 17 separate checks for 22 people (reservation for 18 to 30) arriving at irregular intervals over the course of 45 minutes.  Bravo, Wing Factory! and brava, Nipples, for introducing us to this fine emporium.

Mufti started his roll, sotto voce, and sometime after calling PMCA but before BBoD and BitH, those wanderers arrived, with 6.5 miles on the GPS and some dark-ish patches on the t-shirts.  PP made it to 333 (the triple 3s!); the Mufti advised he play the lottery.  The Jazz Swinger admitted that she wouldn't even have been here if rehearsal hadn't been cancelled.  Radar called for volunteers to assist him as he hosts next week, and expressed hope that the pool would be up to 80 degrees, from its current, and disappointing, 78.  Nipples offered to take Gale's jacket home to her, or at least drop it off in the mailbox.  Everyone (I really hope) paid their separate checks, and went their separate ways.

FULL PINTS OF BEER!!

Thanks to BitH for the co-haring and for photos of two bucks on trail, which you can see via the photo link in paragraph one.

GFH3 Run #1,745; 29 March 2014

“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 1,497^th run, and his dear wife’s 497^th.  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.

GFH3 Run #1,734; 11 January 2014

Once again, full credit to Multiple Lustings for her hash heroics in creating that Facebook page.  Here’s the back story:  one week ago, at hash hero Blow in the Hole’s, the Mufti called for a hero for this week.  Cocked & Loaded phoned home, where Queen Cobra said, “Sure.  Why not?” so he volunteered.  And then fate, as it sometimes does, answered QC’s rhetorical question with a massive dose of influenza, which laid both hosts out with fevers, severe congestion, hacking coughs and body aches that lasted days and days.  So they took to Facebook and the phones to solicit help with laying trail, and got Chip Off the Old Dick to scout and set, with Jeffy Lube and Blow in the Hole assisting.  So all QC and C&L needed to do, after autoclaving themselves thoroughly, was to shop, cook and set up for an uncertain number of guests in the low double digits (IQs, heh heh) and clean up after them.

Heroes!

The weather added to the excitement by warming up and starting to drizzle, then pour, then sprinkle, then drive steadily.  So most of the ice melted, and the rich Virginia clay turned super-slick, and the dead leaves carpeting Scott’s Run turned to ten million miniature slip-n-slides.  Nonetheless, all the hares arrived on time, and two returned early, after BitH slipped on one of the more treacherous ice floes and conked her noggin.  She got platinum treatment from our hosts, including a sneak-preview brownie, whilst JL, bearing brownies, returned to the woods and COtOD to complete the set.

More HEROES!

Eventually a crowd of about 23 assembled in the cool drizzle to learn from COtOD that, “The trail may lack something in distance, but it makes up for that with really, really, really awful footing.”  To the many shouts and imprecations that hashers watch their footing, Oral Advocate responded, “One time I was watching my footing and I slammed into a tree.”  Moderation in all things, my friends – but do watch that footing.

And handing, since the hares, re-christened billy goats for today’s run, chose some nicely steep slopes that required traversing on all fours.  Runners got all kinds of creative with their methods for making it down hills, including essentially and un-deliberately just sliding on their hindquarters or flanks.  Lori pointed out that she’d fallen twice, once on her left hip, and then on her right hip to keep things symmetrical.  Mini Schlonga showed off long and deep mud stains from waist to ankle when he finally returned to the On In.

Shelter from the storm

The return was seriously staggered.  The walkers split into three groups (partially paved, all woods, and where did BC3 go?), and got back at intervals; the runners split into more.  The first three heard, “This is where BitH fell,” and turned around and headed straight back, meeting walkers on the way.  The rest returned in ones and twos and threes, ending with Paula and COtOD, arriving at 5:30, having enjoyed a lovely sunset low on the horizon, under the rain clouds.

And what an On In we enjoyed!  Beefy chili and meatless chili with macaroni and toppings, plus garlic toast and salad and brownies, and wine and beers and soders and everything, and luxurious seating in the downstairs hashing suite, where our hosts had laid out piles of clean towels and a stack of plastic bags in case you wanted something in which to take home your wet things.  The generosity was ludicrous, but ever so welcome for our damp, chilly, muddy hashers.

Chili:  perfect for a chilly day.

Mufti’s roll included commemoration of the Oral Advocate’s 21^st anniversary – that’s right, it was the 11^th of January in 1991 when OA first yielded to Big Wheel’s invitation to join the GFH3 on one of its little woodsy jogs.  He’s averaged 40x/year ever since.  Flowerkraut hit 699, and will turn 700 next week, as we celebrate Boom Boom’s 102^nd real birthday.  See you then; or in the pictures.  Thanks to Greg for his snaps of the Potomac in the rain.

GFH3 Run #1,729; 14 December 2013

Zipperhead reminisced, somewhere around mile three, that today's weather was very like that of his first hash, some 28 years ago, or was it more?  Brow furrowed, he set off jogging again, and so we learn no more, for now, of that historic event.  It is not surprising to those who know and love this hash that he would have kept showing up, but for anyone else...  It was sleety and slushy and chilly and rainy and slippery by 3:00pm, though the Mufti and Phoenix Rising set out to set whilst the worst of the weather was still waiting behind the cloud cover.  PhR, of course, would have set an eagle trail and 40 miles of false trail regardless of weather, or the Mufti's protestations.

Rare photo of Hash 1,729 where the camera lens wasn't spotted with freezing-rain drops.

There were about 25 of the true faithful gathered under uncertain skies for the brief, and only five of those were walkers.  The runners ran off toward the lake, and a few moments later, the walkers followed.  And then the rain started again.  PhR got into his van and drove away to skulk near a particularly devious backcheck, where he enjoyed the discomfiture of FRBs Easy Strider (that's right; 50+ and riddled with Lime disease, and he's an FRB) and Jeffy Lube.  As best I can tell, the run was mostly paved, with true trail of about four miles.  It was about three miles in that Zipperhead started his reminiscences referenced above, as the heavens piddled and moped and spat and shoved slushballs down the backs of people's necks.

At the turkey/eagle split, the pack divided about evenly, with the promise of turkey soup luring ten or twelve onto the shorter route.  No eagle soup awaited the tough guys, but Blow in the Hole had lots of fun finishing as Eagle FRB.  Incidentally, Lori deemed that turkey soup 'perfect,' which is unsurprising to those who've had BC3's cooking before, and it was supplemented by fresh-from-the-oven cheese-melts built on pesto and tomato covered garlic toast.  Man, were they good.  And rich.  Really, how the crowd managed to stuff in almost the full platter of sweet breads, brownies and cookies is a mystery.  Black Box wine and Face Plant beer also proved popular.

But nothing is more popular than Mufti's roll call!  And this week's was a doozy, as, for the first time in the history of the hash, he missed someone; to wit:  the man formerly known as Cockpit... oh, why go on?  Anyway, celebrating a 200th with near-misses, the Mufti mentioned Ugly, But... (best name ever!), Massive Surveillance Ball, Grab My Joystick and other nonsense, and then recounted a sordid story of post-Exec Comm skullduggery, and then revealed the new name:  Big Balls on Deck.  Then there was a confusing bit with Flowerkraut objecting, and some lackluster attempt at re-voting, and then we were done.  As BBoD says, "It's a step -- a small step."

Helpful friends offer beveragic assistance.

Bottoms up, as they say in the Navy.  Or maybe they don't.

Peace at last.

Next week:  Hamilton, and worth the trip!  All virgin territory.  And the week after that, 11am at my house for the last time.  Oh, sadness.  This week:  pictures right here.

GFH3 Run #1,720; 12 October 2013

Riley's first set!  Maria's cooking!  I know this one was great.  Details, please.  I do so want details, suffering as I am so very far from you.

In March 2014, Chip Off the Old Dick provided details as follows:

A coterie of ragamuffins gathered Saturday afternoon to celebrate the end of our fall flooding.   An intimate group – ten walkers and ten runners or so – gun shy from an eventful week of rain (more than six inches at Dulles from Monday through Saturday) gathered at a dry start near the USGS.  We appear to continue the trend of small fall turnouts.  [you fools – Maria’s cooking, and you’re not there?  -ed]

Co-hare Phoenix Rising jumped in the breach to set what seems to be his eighth trail in ten weeks. Some retirees move to Florida, some play golf ; apparently PhR plans and sets trails with his free time.  In atypical CoToD fashion the usually subversive co-hare revealed at chalk talk that this was to be an A to B .... necessitated by the looming threat of afternoon rain and little overhead cover at A.  Bags were loaded into the Phoenix Wagon ... en route to B the co-hares checked in to verify the small group was staying together, including Bad Dog/Perseverance keeping pace nicely through the first part of townhouse zig-zagging.  Wagon continues to B with beverages in tow.   As Mama put the finishing touches on food prep, Riley slept like, well, .... a baby.

Back on trail, the tiny pack of runners, mostly together, made through trail and neighborhoods around Dogwood Elementary School, then snaked though assorted apartments and townhouses before moving east-southeast, crossing (underneath) Reston Parkway.  The pack explored what the trail system associated with Snakenden Branch had to offer.  Very little?  It's woodsy trails only at this point as the pack looped around and ON IN with a tame trail (Manic Mechanic's Garmin said six miles), ending at the Pony Barn Pavilion. Seemed that Easy Strider was first to arrive and Perserverance made it before nightfall, as he always does, getting ready for his epic celebration the following week.

Well-rested Riley joined in with Just Susan for a family affair feast. We had just enough rain for the co-hares to validate their decision to go A to B (and isn’t that the purpose of having at least one hare with a degree in psychology) for a covered location.  After a quick clean up, the remaining walkers and runners were shuttled back to start.  Many thanks for the flexibility and cooperation everyone showed in offering rides and bringing out their personal sun to a soggy, soggy week.

 


Photos from other lands:

 

  

  

  

 

GFH3 Run #1,717; 21 September 2013

Hands up if you ate so bloody much pizza, in response to Hash Hero Chugger's pleas, that you may never walk again.  Pity, because the walking around Chugger's place in Great Falls is lovely, even in intermittent showers that eventually (as today) settle down to a steady rain.  "We need this rain," Rough Cut pointed out, with truth if not originality.

And certainly the 20 or 25 hashers present today looked revived and refreshed and soaked through as they arrived, pretty well grouped together, back at the cool, dry garage they'd departed an hour or so earlier.  (Incidentally, the group included Mini Schlonga, back from interhashing through Europe.)  Chugger and Phoenix Rising are to thank for taking a lesson from last week and ensuring they placed checks everywhere there needed to be a check, and a few extra places, too.  That diligence kept the pack mostly packed as they raced along a mostly off-road trail.  As promised in the brief, they crossed no major roadways; "Springvale," Chugger clarified, "is not a major roadway."

Someone in this group is thinking, "Oho!  So we head west..."

The walkers split into two about-equal groups, one sticking to pavement (street-walkers, heh heh) while the other headed into the homeowners' association-maintained woodsy trail around a little pond and up a good hill and then the wrong direction somehow or other to miss the second part of the woods trail.  Oh, well.  Kylie and Abby don't like to stay out in the wet too long, anyway.

Back at the garage, there was a spread you wouldn't believe, with fancy sandwiches on seeded bread and ciabatta warm from the oven, and fruit and cheese and chips and homemade cole slaw (very excellent) and other salad-like items...  and those were the appetizers!  Dominos delivered about 1,000 pizzas minutes later, each one a different set of toppings, including fancy things like banana peppers and spinach, and mainstays like ham and pineapple and just pepperoni.  Easy Strider:  "Snausages!" (imagine boyish grin and thrilled intonation).  And only later did the dessert trays come out, laden with pastries.

Plus stacks and stacks of pizzas off the the right somewhere.

Mufti called the roll for this, run number 1717.  Get it?  The double 17s?  Ooooh.  PhR and Chugger and Trish got well-deserved applause, and while I didn't actually hear her, I can't imagine Paint in the Ass didn't urge everyone to make the trek to Maryland next Saturday.  It's a great location for both running and walking, and well worth the trip.

Along about 5pm, with Chugger urging people to take home some leftovers, PhR went out into the wet in his old Volvo to find Spurt.  The expletive-deleting rain had washed away some chalked X's, but not the mistakenly-laid, flour checks those X's were designed to keep people from finding.  So Spurt was way off where he shouldn't have been, and willing to take PhR's taxi service.  Remember, everyone, that sidewalk check is designed to wash away easily.  Anyway, Spurt should have worked up enough of an appetite on all that extra trail to take care of the extra pizza...

Here's what it looked like up until the camera battery died.

GFH3 Run #1,712; 21 August 2013

Gracious, what a lot of soggy corn chips remain after the hash has departed...

So, it was hash hero time again, and once more unto the breach, dear friends.  The Veggie Wedgie (what a dumb name) threw open the door of her gracious McLean home (and promptly started shrieking, "Bugs!  Bugs!  Shut the door!"), welcoming 29 hashers on an overcast evening that wasn't quite as hot 'n' humid as feared.  The call for volunteers yielded three:  let us now praise our favorite hashers.

The brave, smart, strong, sensitive, witty, beautiful, noble, chic, fascinating and in-all-ways wonderful Paddle My Candee Ass arrived from distant lands (Warrenton) at 7:45am to help set, prepare food, lug furniture and beer around, and accidentally do all the cooking and most of the hostessing, before leaving about 14 hours later.  The thank-you note is in the mail; it ought to be a medal.

Chip Off the Old Dick, whose hash heroics are already legend, arrived about 3pm (fresh from Phoenix Rising's retirement lunch, but a smidge confused on how this retirement thing works if he's still going to be, well, working), and headed up the street to navigate the entire trail as insurance that VW hadn't messed it up.  Along the way, he came upon six teenagers commencing some sort of carnal activity in the woods -- when was the last time that happened?  And when he got back to the future on-in, he declined to shower and change because, gods and nature love him, he was happy to sweep up after the pack.  So he just shotgunned about three quarts of ice water and greeted the slowly-gathering hash.

HEROES!!  Photo taken after PMCA got all scratched and hot and dirty setting trail, and before she got all scratched and hot and dirty making dinner.

The Mufti, may his name be praised forevermore, arrived about 6:30pm with the much-needed ice for the future cold beverages.  Thank you!  And shortly after him, the rest of the crew made their various ways to the driveway, and with the clouds lowering, blotting out the setting sun and rising full moon on an evening when the trail warranted as much light as possible, we kept the brief brief and kicked everyone out onto the street.

The walkers got a one-mile turkey or as-long-as-you-like eagle trail, and a few actually opted to eagle it a bit.  Eagling also offered more off-pavement walking, so it's a lovely choice.  Having finally put enough "T" and "E" marks on that sidewalk that they actually found the split, I shall now retire that trail.  The runners' trail, however...

It was a thing of beauty, I'm assured, to the 'true hasher' (Phoenix Rising is, apparently, a 'true hasher').  For the 'regular runners,' who just want to get out and back as easily as possible, it was somewhat uglier.  Radar came down somewhere in the middle:  "It's a great Saturday-afternoon trail."  Meeee-OWW!  Rrocks Starr thought it so good I should set it again, sometime when the hashers can actually see it.

I did mention in the brief that there was a half-mile stretch of bushwacky/shiggy-ish stuff that might feel a whole lot longer.  And provided a water/beer/Mike's/DCoke stop, and provided a sweeper who knew where he was going and what everyone should be doing.  So there.  Nonetheless, when called on for a merciful mission, I zoomed out and collected a handful (bit more than a Honda-ful, but not quite a someone-will-have-to-sit-on-Mike's-lap-and-don't-pretend-you'd-mind-that size load) of hashers who'd gotten fed up.

Speaking of fed up, what with water-stop providing and mercy-missioning, I abandoned PMCA with two large pots of boiling water and a mess of corn, potatoes, sausage and shrimp to turn into dinner in a strange kitchen.  (If she ever came over to make a nice supper for me, my kitchen would not be strange to her.)  Anyway, all the walkers and two runners returned before I did, demanding wine and chips, and PMCA coped so admirably she should be knighted or something.  I did make sure she had a glass of bubbly, and I don't mean Perrier water, before I took off.  And I think that helped.

Her shrimp boil got highest praise, most of the runners covered true trail, the cookies were warm from the oven, and the beer held out, if only barely.  The generous hashers even showed willing to sit outside in a light drizzle rather than plonk their shiggy-ish selves down on my cream-colored couch.  So all in all, I'm claiming a success, and extra points if first-timer Karen (99 to the etc.) actually shows up again like she said she will.

What with one thing and another, I had limited time for photography.  However, there are a few photos; you can click here to look at the pix.

Doggy bags and everything!

A million thanks to the Mufti for ice and to INDY for starting a discrete clean-up while several of us were still drinking under an umbrella, a hundred million to COtOD, and a gazillion magillion jillion to PMCA.

GFH3 Run #1,709; 31 July 2013

If you look to the right on your screen, and maybe scroll down a bit, you'll find a blog 'gadget' captioned "Labels."  Browse through that list of words and phrases, and you'll see the word "sunshine" stands out in great big letters, with the notation "(20)" beside it.  That is because twenty of these posts have included the label "sunshine," to indicate that that weather condition was an element of the hashes described in those twenty posts.  If you squint a bit, a few lines above sunshine, you'll see the word "rain," in tiny letters, with the notation "(4)".  If you had checked before Job Blow and Heats it UP's fabulous hash tonight, that notation would have been "(3)."  But it poured like the dickens, or something a lot wetter than the dickens, in Reston this evening.

Not at first, mind you.  As about forty of us gathered around the Blows's fish pond, where the Mufti was gregariously distributing anniversary t-shirts, the sky was maybe partly cloudy, or overcast if you're pessimistic.  The heat and humidity were doing their thing, and Job Blow was out in the driveway, making sure no one ran over the neighbor's mailbox.  Despite vigorous efforts by our Fearless Leader, a pair of New Balance lost-and-found shoes went unclaimed (Mufti!  Do not drop those in the fish pond!) and after a bit people slowly straggled out front for the brief.  I frankly remember nothing of JB's sapient comments, having been mildly concussed by an over-enthusiastic hasher gesticulating recklessly, but there may have been something about blue chalk and true trail being determined by at least four, not three, ons.

It's a RUNNING club!  Somebody RUN!

"On on!" someone eventually shouted, and a bit more straggling ensued.  Misled by an over-enthusiastic hasher misinterpreting marks recklessly, the pack headed up the street, then turned 'round and came back down, and into the woods trails through the kindly neighbor's yard.  Thank you, kindly neighbor.  Once everyone -- walkers, too -- had gotten well into those woods, the clouds moved in fast and thoroughly.  The walkers and a horde of shortcutters made it back to the house before the skies sundered, but the true trailers (all eight or so of them) got soaked to the bone.  Poor things.  And then no one tried out the new salt-water pool, which looks just gorgeous.  BC3 is putting together a party to sneak over there while JB and HIU are off on their next vacation.

The usual HIU generous feast was laid out on the kitchen buffet, with roast pork and three salads (the tortellini artichoke was my favorite, although the bean-corn-avocado was a very strong contender).  A wide variety of beer was available, as were Black Box and Ch. Ste. Michelle wines.  Dessert was ridiculous, and included super-fresh and juicy cantaloupe, many pastries and two flavors of ice cream.

Imitating the courtship ritual of the blue-footed booby (or double-breasted booby) is a great way to stretch out after a long, soggy run.  Photo is proof I did not hallucinate this, despite my brain injury earlier in the evening.

Mufti's roll was notable for the strength of the replies, except when he got to Zipperhead and Rrock Starr, who didn't make a peep.  Eventually someone realized they were still out on trail, in the dark and the wet, and a search party formed.  A whole bunch of people got cheers for their first runs -- a German, I think, and at least a couple of Americans -- and BC3 is getting awfully close to 500.  Then a huge gust of cheering burst out as our lost sheep returned to the fold, with tales of winding trails and invisible marks and very, very wet t-shirts.

My attempts at photographing the koi were dismal failures, but you can see much of the other stuff in the pictures here.