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 #1,752; 14 May 2014

Gracious, he's a clever young man, isn't he, our Chip Off the Old Dick?  All that shiggy he was able to find in the oft-traveled neighborhoods of North Reston.  And the weather helped out a bit, as recent rain rendered the dirt paths extra slick and entertaining.  Phoenix Rising claimed credit for ensuring that all 20 runners weren't still on trail at 9:00pm (his son sometimes sets long).  COtOD, assessing Dad's assertion, remarked, "A strong sense of self-esteem can be healthy."

Extra points for style!

Our two hosts should be feeling healthy tonight, as this, their yumpty-gazillionth foray into setting trail, earned all kinds of plaudits from a grateful crowd of 34, including one runner's comment that, "My butt-ochs are getting a workout tonight."  COtOD's decision, accounting for clock, calendar and cloud cover, to get the crowd away pretty promptly at 7:05 or so helped ensure that not very many people were still on trail in the dark, and since those lingering few had him sweeping them up, it worked out just fine.

While the Mufti led the walkers around the lake, and the runners allowed two 18-year olds and a 19-year old to lead them across four humid miles of mud to the On In, PhR was shuttling off to pick up the victuals.  Living up to a well-earned reputation, COtOD fed his troops well.  There may have been 15 pizzas, which would have been plenty, but then two trays of sandwiches, just in case, plus four pans of various high-carb casseroles like enchiladas and mac 'n' cheese, plus pulled pork somewhere in the mix.  And side dishes, and dessert.  Whew.  PhR chose Yuengling and various IPAs, plus whatever was cheap in the wine aisle.  Several toasts were drunk to the memory of It's Too Long, who died at 68 on Monday, in Florida.

Exec Comm members stand by to help with roll as needed.

The Mufti called roll, which offered a respite from all the excitement of last week by offering nothing out of the ordinary.  For some fairly ordinary photographs, check here.

GFH3 Run #1,731; 28 December 2013

On 7 May 2008, I hosted the hash from my little house in McLean for the first time (first time at the house, you understand; not first time hosting).  It was about a week after I'd moved in to the house, and there was some confusion about finding a corkscrew.  Otherwise, all was well -- as I recall, I even had the necessary baking utensils to offer oatmeal cookies hot from the oven.  Today I hosted the hash from the little McLean house for the last time, again with decorative cardboard boxes strewn about the place.  Oh, woe and sadness, though you wouldn't think so from the weather.  Given a desire to empty a few cupboards and the late-December date, I'd planned a hot chocolate stop, which proved entirely unnecessary under sunny skies and temps in the 50s.  Gracious, it was lovely, and almost everyone at the On In stayed On Outside.  Bonus points.

So many bonuses in today's hash!

A few other bonuses:  Robin came back to the hash, albeit just because she knew I needed help with egg-scrambling.  Blazing Straddle showed up with a cane and walked over a mile despite her recent knee surgery.  Packing Pink Heat showed up with one foot in a post-surgery boot.  I set both eagle and turkey trails; the turkeys had seven water crossings, not including the five with bridges of some sort; the eagles had nine, plus three bridges.  (There were a few dampened tootsies, according to report, but no drownings.)  Jeffy Lube, the eagliest eagle, ran just over eight miles.  The hot chocolate stop included rum and amaretto and cookies.  Paddle My Candee Ass had a birthday, and Big Balls on Deck provided a cake liberally bedewed with amaretto (there it is again) and bedecked with cream.  ("This is disgusting!" exclaimed one hasher, gobbling it down.  "It's all hooch and butterfat!")  BC3 thought Rough Cut looked like crap, and he never looks bad after a run.  Jeffy Lube declared the trail, "perfect" -- but he's got issues.  Someone else said the eggs were perfect; thanks again and again, Robin!  And then...

birthday crown?

Hang on. First, the trails:  all the walkers decided on the two-mile, sidewalk, out-and-back that includes the garden tour at St. Dunstan's.  Most of the runners chose the roughly four-mile turkey trail.  Under threat of burnt offerings, several decided to eagle, which gave them a bit less than six (of true trail, anyway).  Then, the food:  brunch = bagels, salmon, scrambled eggs and mimosas, although enough people drank beer that there was only one left.  Warm cookies; birthday cake.  Mufti on roll; Lori hit 88, the double eights, ooooh.

And then... about 15 minutes after the last hashers departed, the doorbell rang.  Double Breasted Booby and Rick were on the stoop!  They had raced down from Long Island hoping for a few minutes of hash time, but got hard ciders and a short visit with just me instead.  Zipperhead phoned while they were there and said he'd just realized the hash was at 11:00, not 3:00, and had turned around and gone back home.  So silly.

I don't usually get many photos when I host, but the ones I did get are right here.

No, you do not get credit for the run.

GFH3 Run #1,688; 16 March 2013

The hash's finest, 21 or so stalwarts, braved the weather report and the cloud cover and zoomed (I'm Not Dead Yet and I made McLean to P.S. in about 30 minutes) westward, singing, "Paeonian Springs, oh Paeonian Springs/The joy that life brings in Paeonian Springs."  The snowdrops were blooming in their quiet way in north-facing pockets, and the daffodils had burst out in their gaudy excitement in the southern exposures, and the rain held off until the walkers finished their tour.

Honestly, it was pretty warm as we arrived to find Easy Strider stacking logs and finishing off the last of the maple sap.  You may be surprised to learn that this was a great year for sap, and E.S. had to bring in help to collect his brimming buckets as they were filling too fast for him to keep up solo.  So there is syrup a-plenty, waiting to be filtered and decanted.  But first, he had a hash to host, so he gathered the faithful and pointed them to the girder crossing the stream.  After jogging/slipping/crawling up the hill, someone - maybe Radar? - recalled, "He had us go left last time," and so headed right, with most of the pack behind him.  Mini Schlonga and Mitch checked the left-bound trail, and only added a quarter-mile or so to their run by doing so.  Then through a flock of chickens, and a brambly scramble up a steep and thickly-vined hill to route 9, and some fields and more hills as the clouds began to sprinkle lightly upon them, and after about six miles we're home again.  Down the hill, now, in a few great, erosion-inducing, sliding steps, back across the girder and up to the porch where the beer awaits.

Away we go!

And the walkers await, having completed a two-mile circuit just, as noted above, before the drizzle began.  And a rich array of sandwiches await, comprising what the Mufti called, "The most colorful meal we've had in some time."  Irene K. provided the meal, with a little help from Wegman's, and in addition to varieties of sandwiches with fancy flourishes like pesto marinade and artichoke-feta spread, there was an abundance of chef's salad and a plate of juicy, fresh melon and other fruits, plus a generous cooky buffet.  There was Irish and other beer, to complement Mitch's multi-greens sartorial coup de grace, and Black Box cab, and it seemed like pretty much everyone was awfully happy.

At least four shades of green; probably more.

The Mufti called a quick roll with great cheers for Irene and Easy Strider, and subdued excitement as someone - E.S.? - hit 665.  Several of the Great Falls contingent requested early departure for various silly reasons, and so... missed out.  Because the lingerers got a special treat in being invited to sample the first pressing (or boiling or whatever) of syrup, in little paper tasting cups.  It offers rich, deep color with an audacious bouquet and hints of chervil on the after-palate, dissipating into smoky, woodsy tones of tree juice.  Susie the Calico Cat dropped in for a visit, with usual suspects INDY and Air Horn making a great fuss of her.  I've forgotten why Phoenix Rising kissed Easy Strider, but I did take the photo, which you can see, with Indy eating a Spam Oreo and others, right here.

By the time we left, it was downright chilly.