Hash Trash

So COCKPIT wanted to run trail on Friday night instead of the usual Saturday. No problem, go ahead sir. We met at a bar outside a “lifestyle center” (or shopping mall, for the over 30 folks). After we were well lubed, trail set off, and to the surprise of no one it immediately went into Dick’s.

Always look below the racks in a mall, like the perverts

Always look below the racks in a mall, like the perverts


After wandering through the store a bit, it was back out into the parking lot for a beer near. Let’s be honest, guys. Who hasn’t needed a beer after shopping on a Friday night?

Oh well, back into the mall just in time for closing. A large part of the pack got lost, but they apparently weren’t the ones who have shopped with a woman (or gay men). Look through the clothing, you idiots!

C'mon, admit this is better than Orange Julius

C’mon, admit this is better than Orange Julius


Half the pack (I don’t know what you’re talking about) got lost in a service corridor but found trail anyway, then to on-in, where CAN’T FIND IT got named.

All trails are shitty, but I have to admit this one was fun…running around a mall with a (root) beer.

Talk about a perfect storm of fuckery. Let’s start a trail at a video game parlor, when no one in this kennel can use both hands at once (sober or drunk), then have it hared by a guy whose greatest asset is his ability to get lost. For good measure let’s toss in some visitors from Houston and a random virgin.

I thought about waiting to talk about the virgin, but fuck it. He’s not coming back and I’m not spoiling anything anyway. Dude shows up looking for fun, proceeds to get shitfaced at the bar, then ignores (almost) everything we told him in chalk talk. Ok guy, you ran 20 miles yesterday, have fun.

Off we went, with the pack following trail to a point only hashers would find…the hidden beer near. It was here our virgin trouble started. You see, he was on some kind of mission…we…just wanted beer. New guy missed the turn and kept running…and running…despite our best efforts to hail him, Forrest just kept Gumping for a good six blocks until we gave in to the siren song of nectar. We gave up looking but he just kept running, actually making it to the next beer near before the hares.

If you can't do, teach, as they say

If you can’t do, teach, as they say

After our virgin was sacrificed the rest of us found the next beer near, where we were truly quenched. Off to do what was becoming known as the African heritage trail, for its path through significant parts of Columbus.

Oops, white people fucked it up again

Oops, white people fucked it up again

After another shot/beer near it was obvious things weren’t going as planned, so the pack ran ahead of the hares anyway, waiting for a beer near that never materialized. After that it was decided “fuck the rest of trail” – we followed it until it got dark (Trump voters will take that entirely differently) and then said “fuck it” and abandoned trail for a nearby brewery.

I dont even know if circle was conducted after this Ebola style trail. I was too busy consoling the victims to bother.

You know, it’s not often we are serious here at Renegade H3, but on this 15th anniversary of the attacks of 9/11, it’s important to take a moment to reflect on the fact our hares still can’t lay a god damn trail. May Almighty God continue to have mercy on their souls.

Despite our protests, we gathered at TEEN LA QUEEFA’s place for a jaunt through the woods. The hares (BURNING BUBBLES and LADY HUMPS A LOT) swear they laid trail live, but who can really be sure with this bunch. It’s not like we win any marathons around here, and the sun was pleasant that day. But to give them the benefit, we struggled with another beer(s) while giving them the customary lead time.

Trail went through a field…for the dummies. Smart folks skirted around the edge of the start, like it was going to help. As we entered the woods and started to follow the creek we were sure we were getting wet, but nooooooo. Away from the water was a beer near! After a rousing round of Chicago and several beers, we were on our way.

Along the way to our water crossing, we had the usual NICE TRY fall. It was graceful…almost like it was scripted. But yes, eventually there was water, where we met bemused kayakers. Just treat us as local fauna, gentle citizen. We are the wildlife you saw. It makes everyone’s story better.

On the other side of the creek we found another beer near, this time with an unmarked swing check. And this wasn’t your usual playground swing. It was a tree swing over a creek…cmon hares… Anyway, we found the beer and FIDO decided to try out the swing, to hilarious results. We encountered local fishermen that had found the beer near before us and had acted like proper gentlemen in leaving it for us. They declined our offer of a token beer, as did the other kayakers we met…some of whom were having a bad day navigating the water. We offered beer, and they said they already had some. Now, I don’t know about you, but even if my vessel is full, I will invite my fellow traveler to drink. Damn kids these days.

At this point, alcohol may or may not have had a say in matters as people ignored sanity and followed ITCHY BITSY back down into the creek. The back 2/3 of the pack got lost and wandered through the woods, cursing no one and anyone in general, up and down out of the water. It was funny to be walking upstream like a boss as families were on a leisurely drift down the creek, however.

Eventually we found a field that led to the on-in. ILLUMINUTTI decided to clear out the bees for us by attaching them to himself and carrying them away with haste. Circle was had, STEAMER and BROWN AND RUNNY showed up, beer was drunk, and also beer was drunk.

Debating the fate of the hares

Debating the fate of the hares

But seriously, this trail was for a good cause. We were able to raise $150 for the Yellow Ribbon Fund. Many thanks to our hares for helping us donate to this important cause, and special thanks to TEEN LA QUEEFA for hosting our drunken asses.

What is the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke?

There is no set line that distinguishes heat exhaustion from heat stroke. If a person is suffering from a heat-related illness such as heat exhaustion, and changes in mental status occur, he or she should be considered to be suffering from heat stroke. This includes, confusion, lethargy, seizure, or coma. This is a medical emergency, and if treatment is delayed mortality can be greater than 50%. While victims of heat exhaustion sweat profusely, people suffering from heat stroke stop sweating and have dry skin. This is a warning sign of impending heat stroke.

So let’s just roll with that. LICK HER AGUAN was suffering from a heat related malady as he drug HORNY AGAIN along for this bullshit. At least he stuck around for circle after this one. When that’s about the only positive thing that comes from a trail, you done fucked up, son.

On a nice 90° and sunny summer day we gathered for a going away party for LICK HER AGUAN and gave him another chance to finally lay a good trail. What’s that they say? Fool me once, etc?

So there we were, gathered in a nice comfy bar waiting for our hares to show up, and sure enough they popped in right before we decided to say “fuck it, let’s drink” for the afternoon. Assholes. They shuttled talked us into carpooling to the on-start. Upon arrival we had more drinks and chalk talk, where trail was described as having “sparse” marks. Sure, no problem, we’ve all been on a Serialbater trail.

On-on…we thought. A check right away sent hashers off in every direction. To the north was an evil back check. Everywhere else…crickets. So we spent a generous amount of non-beer time looking in vain for marks that didn’t exist. Finally, someone called the asshole hare, who pointed us in the right direction…a chalk mark a half mile down the road. Since others saw the hares driving past, allegations of auto-haring were tossed about but obviously were denied.

Have I mentioned yet we had dogs and children on this trail? I feel like I’ve left that part out. So yes, on this 90° day with no clear path to refreshment, I feel like I should mention we had dogs and children on trail.

Eventually we found the hares…with a car…in a school parking lot, where an impromptu beer near was had. To listen to the hares, one would have thought we were crying man-children. All I’m saying is when a hasher sacrifices his vessel to provide water to a dog (a hare’s dog, no less!) you might rethink your trail.

After the unplanned BN the hares graciously cut the trail short by winding us through a neighborhood, where a television was almost recycled, and eventually making children run across a divided highway. Because this was always a family friendly trail, you see.

Somehow we all avoided the heat related illnesses that beset our hares and made it to the on-in, where we were bussed (by ourselves) to the on-start for circle. There we rightfully told our hares to take a hint and fuck right off…although they’re welcome back any time. Just stop haring fucking trails you idiots.

Les «Renegade Hash House Harriers Columbus» ont tenu leur sentier 45e, nommé «Riviera Français en Marseilles», ce 9e juillet 2016. Le groupe assemblé à la maison de la mère IT’S SCIENCE, BITCH et PPNH ASHLEY. Ce fut une belle journée chaude et ensoleillée, hélas le sentier se révélera être plutôt merdique. Un petit mais déterminé groupe de Columbus étaient présents; ils étaient SERIALBATER, IMMACULATE PROJECTION, COCKPIT, ILLUMINUTTI, ITCHY BITSY, et PPNH ROBIN. Aussi nous rejoindre était VIERGE AMBER.

Nous avons commencé sur la rue principale, rapidement perdre notre chemin. Cela révélera être une préfiguration des choses à venir. La route été trouvée comme il a conduit dans une aire de jeux, puis hors de ville. Une arrêter au milieu de la route nous confound un peu, mais nous avons le chemin dans le bois. Il était la, nous avons trouvé le trésor…la bière! Puisque la course a été annoncé comme ayant de petites quantités de poison, naturellement la bière a été placée au milieu d’un tas de sumac vénéneux.

Après avoir terminé la bière, nous nous sommes dirigés à travers les bois, dans une prairie, puis sur le dessus d’un barrage. Nous nous sommes arrêtes au sommet pour prendre une photo, puis zigzagué haut et en bas du côte de la colline. Quand nous avond atteint le fond, nous avons découvert un escalier menant retour au sommet du barrage. Nous avons maudit les noms des responsables, mais a monté indépendamment. Il est encore décidé si oui ou non ce voyage était une bonne idée. À cet endroit a été placé un sac de vin bon marché et Brie moins cher.

Après avoir rafrâichissements, le groupe descendit les marches et à travers une route. Il y avait une carcasse d’animal en attente d’une image à prendre. Nous obligés, et nous étions respectueux de la décédée. Nous avons fini payer notre respect pour les morts, et le sentier nous conduit derrière un petit immeuble. Il nous présenté un nouveau jeu appelé «danger can». On n’a pas bien joué ce jeu, donc nous avons triché. Le prix était l’alcool pas cher, donc nous avons gagné…quelque chose.

Maintenant dans un champ avec un étang. Nous avons perdu notre chemin, et certaines personnes ont été réprimandés par le propriétaire. L’agriculteur a été ignorée, et nous avons continué dans un ruisseau. L’eau était aussi élevé que nos genoux parfois, mais nous étions forts. Jusqu’à ce que PPNH ROBIN a perdu son équilibre et trébuché, écraser la tête la première dans l’eau.

Putain!

Putain!

Après que nous sommes sortis de l’eau, Dieu et ses anges ne pouvaient pas nous aider à trouver le chemin. Nous nous sommes proménes autour d’un champ, escaladé quelques clôtures, et nous maudit tout autour de nous. Avec l’aide de VIERGE AMBER, nous avons pu trouver notre chemin hors de l’ennui.

Une fois que nous avons terminé, nous avons mené la réunion circulaire. Méfaits ont été accusés, PPNH ROBIN a été donné le nom 17 YEAR TWITCH, et un bon barbecue a été fourni. Merci à la famille de IT’S SCIENCE BITCH, VIERGE AMBER, et PPNH ASHLEY pour leur hospitalité.

À bientôt,
Itchy

Since I’m posting this a month late, I will start this tale a little earlier than a normal trash. There we were.

Cockpit and I did the unimaginable and arrived half an hour early to NFHN Robin’s house for the clown car down to Hocking Hills. It turned out to be a good thing since Cockpit’s GPS is too good for Route 33 and took us down some scary scenic roads, so we got there with just enough time for a potty break, to learn of Robin’s LOVE of insects especially the cicadas, and to find a Virgin before the hares arrived. I never did get Lady’s secret to getting Serial Bater there on time, but her black magic spell must have worked since he showed up as we were getting some bottles of water and snacks out of the trunk.

We had chalk talk by the art car belonging to Dancing Fool a travel hasher from…I can’t remember but he was on his way to Pittsburgh. It was very memorable, in that it had a sign saying it isn’t abandoned, and a license plate that said ‘I Recycle’. I am sorry I didn’t think to take any pictures of it, because it was a really cool car owned by a really cool hasher that cleaned trail as we went.

We finally were on out, and followed the road for a bit. As soon as we got in the woods we promptly got lost, until we looked back a bit from the check and found trail going the opposite way we had been trying to go. After some bushwhacking, where our Virgin bemoaned her lack of machete, we found a beer near! We enjoyed a sit, a beer and a bunch of water (it was HOT that day, who the hell was the RA…oh wait).

Trail resumed and we followed the river a ways. We came to a fork, where to the right looked like a path, but was actually completely scum covered water. Lady was nice to us and didn’t make us go through it too, so we went to the left and found a real path.

After another pleasant bit of hiking, we came upon a wild Member and some boulders we had to cross, so Lady warned us keep our hands free and BVFC! Cockpit didn’t listen and slid down a boulder with a loud crack scaring us but it was only him crushing his poor vessel not his person. After climbing 110 feet up (with some breaks along the way at least for me cause those hills kicked my ass!) we made it to the top and were rewarded with a GORGEOUS view and our final hare #2.

We took a break for more water and sandwiches to get ready for the rappelling part of the rappelling hash. Working Member and Lady Humps A Lot gave us a safety demonstration, and as the good hashers we are, we let the Virgin Sacrifice herself and go first. Bater was next over, as he had also done it before. I went next and had a blast! Cockpit managed to follow me over, even though Lady almost talked him out of it by trying to help him. Our Virgin, the adrenaline junkie, went again, as did Bater. NFHN Robin decided Just the Tip was enough for her and came back up. Dancing Fool was no fool and decided to stay welllll back from the edge. Our Virgin went over a couple more times, and Bater went once more as well. I would have gone again, but climbing back up was no bueno.

Once everyone had had their fill of rappelling, snacks and some beer, it was time to head back. Going down the hill was almost as much fun as rappelling, in that a few of us decided to scooch down on our tushes as it was quite steep and we didn’t want to tumble. The hares were nice and didn’t make us bushwhack our way back, but let us take the walking path with the rickety bridge to get to the parking lot where we had circle. They ferried us the mile or so back to our cars and another SHITTY trail was done with.

-Immaculate Projection

Hey guys, I have a great idea! Let’s get hashers together to drink! Then, let’s hand a piece of chalk to 1.) A brand new hasher, and 2.) Someone who needs the state police and a search team to find his own ass. Finally, tell them to set a trail to the next bar, bye, see you in a few, smooches! What could possibly go wrong?

There you have it folks, Flight #28 Trail #043 started off…is auspiciously the right word? Nah, fuck it, it started off Renegade Style (that’s quickly becoming a proper term, check the next Funk & Wagnalls). If our lazy-assed record keeper would update things, I’d have a proper list of who showed up (hi SERIALBATER, love you mean it). For now let’s just roll with saying there were 10 or so hashers who probably thought they were suicide bombers in another life when JUST ROBIN walked in with 72 virgins. COCK A NOODLE helped the cause with some virgins of his own…we think? Virgins, harem, whatever. Suddenly we had taken over North High Brewing without even trying.

So, just as soon as we’d taken over the bar we were off for chalk talk and some manner of trail. Thankfully the half-mind hares (ILLUMINUTTI and JUST ROBIN) didn’t overthink things, since we all knew where we were going anyway. On-on to Brothers Drake Meadery for more drinkalicious fun. Once again there was a general “what the fuckery” look on the poor bartender’s face. This is why we have business cards lol. There it was decided to continue the half-assed trail, switching JUST ROBIN for COCKPIT as co-hare, since he was now in his element (see below). This led to what’s been called the “NI-NOt-really” being scrawled on the sidewalk before the second on-out.

NI-NOt-really

This…this is not how the holy books say it’s done…

With the fading light and creeping drunkenness, having a shitty trail drawn in chalk was becoming more and more a wonderful idea. Actually, the pack did pretty well until we were distracted by a swing check that just happened to also be a staging area for the mounted police patrolling the Pride festival. That threw us off, so we played dumb and found the hares wandering around, convincing them to tell us the on-in. Of course, being Pride week, it was in the Blue Oyster Exile bar. Being hashers, we immediately set about exploring the place. As if there was a beacon, we all found the fetish shop above the bar, where things were tried on and modeled.

This was hanging next to the fitting room...maybe folks need to make sure it fits?

This was hanging next to the fitting room…maybe folks need to make sure it fits?

Since it was obvious we weren’t going anywhere, being amongst our kindred folk in kink, we waited until everyone straggled in and held circle in the beer garden. From there, who knows what happened…what happens in Exile stays in Exile.

On-on (but totally not in a gay way),
Itchy

Thus begins the tale of the Memorial Day Trail, ninth of its name, forty-first of the Renegade Era, and of the FTroop one hundred twenty-seventh, commenced on this twenty-eighth day of May, anno Domini two thousand sixteen.

Ok, so I got Game of Thrones mixed in with graduation season, I suppose. That’s still less of a clusterfuck than what was billed as a “trail” by our hares OFFICE(R) AND A GENITAL and SERIALBATER. It should have been a sign of things to come when we couldn’t even successfully assemble everyone in one place before heading out. But we are hashers, and persist we must, so eventually we all got together at Tavern 42 for some pre-lube festivities. It was a beautiful day to this point but our RA, IMMACULATE PROJECTION, was present to fuck up all that.

We waited out a brief tropical downpour, giving us an excuse to have more beer, before conducting chalk talk. Our poor waitress attempted to sort out the checks during all this, and God bless her for doing her thing…I’m quite sure no one at the bar could have seen us coming. Once the formalities were out of the way the pack was off. In search of what, who the hell knows? For a couple hares that brag about hashing in Japan in the 80s, laying trail with blue chalk during monsoon season is right up there with this when it comes to being sensible:

Actually, I apologize to Bollywood for besmirching their fine films; hell, at least those horses knew where to go (and God bless you if you watched that whole video). So yes, to recap the very beginning, trail was lost before leaving the bar parking lot. After wandering around for a few, a gracious hare stepped in and guided us under a bridge for our “brewery near”. It’s quite possible some urban outdoorsmen have brewed something under that bridge at some point, but the actual brewery was a trail treasure model train set version. Oh well, at least the beer was real. As we launched into song, another wave of rain hit, and by wave think tidal. At this point, one had to wonder if our VIRGIN ROBIN really knew what she’d gotten into, visiting a running club and instead drinking shit-tier beer under a bridge while the ark is being assembled downstream.

After the rain let up again, all pretense of finding marks was lost, although they probably weren’t there in the first place. We fumbled up to the bridge deck only to head back underneath on the other side of the river. There awaiting us was a couple bottles of liquor, of which types I sadly cannot remember. I wish I could say the same for this trail, but so it goes. The real star of the show, however, goes out to the six year old marks left for this particular shot near. Yes, gentle reader, you parsed that correctly. The hares reused six year old marks on the girder of a bridge. What this says about 1.) the cleverness of the hares, 2.) the eagerness for hashers to drink under bridges, or 3.) ODOT’s bridge inspection program, I’ll leave to your capable imagination.

After the bridge and its liquor were defeated we headed down into a ravine which the hares totally promised was dry when they set trail. Arrows never lie, hares do, and in this case there were NO GODDAMN ARROWS because, well…see above. So slosh we did through the pretend trail creek up to an embankment that the rain had rendered…well let’s just say we found it easier to go over a rusty barbed wire fence and through thorns than tackle it.

By this time Mother Nature was in full “fuck everyone in general” mode, and we were at a point where several weenies shortcut straight to the on-in. The true hashers soldiered on through muddy field and briar, finding another beer near. As is custom, DEEP SWALLOWS and SERIALBATER found the deer stand and did who knows what up there.

From there it was a lot of muddy field and some forest work to get to the prize…last year’s beer! No, seriously, BEAVE IT TO CLEAVAGE put on another impressive display…of food, you dirty wankers! Circle was conducted, beer was had, many games were played, another good show by our hosts, and many thanks for that. We were also glad to welcome our friends from Dayton H3 and FTroop…another fine showing by you is welcome anytime!

In Wankus Veritas,
Itchy Bitsy

 

    Twisted my ankle, cut my finger, shitty trail indeed.
    At least my shoe got sucked off.
    ????
    Cock-a-Noodle

Dear friends, this is pure poetry. Thoreau, Emerson, Wordsworth, all fall short in describing the majesty of Renegade Trail #38 and all its wilderness splendor, therefore this balladry should win some kind of award.

image

The following account is in no way biased because it was written by one of the hares. That would be unprofessional, violate journalistic integrity, and quite frankly bring disrepute upon the name of the Hash House Harriers world-wide. Shame upon you and your house for entertaining the matter.

If any of this sounds like Low German that was translated into High Bullshit, you’re damn right. Trail started in Madison County on the rustic shores of Deer Creek, near the intersection of Rusty Propane Tank Rd. and Sagging Barn Rd. The hares, BEAMER and ITCHY BITSY had scouted a flawless trail, with only minor water crossings and a little bit of trailblazing.

Chalk talk brought us a good number of Dayton H3 folks, thanks to BEAMER: COCK-A-NOODLE, FIDO, PUSS ‘N BOOBS, and JUST KIMBERLY. Welcome to Columbus London, enjoy your stay…err, I hope your stay was enjoyable. Yeah. Glad to see GOES DOWN ON THE TIP as well. Don’t be a stranger, Tippy!

After some trunk beers trail started on a desire path down the banks of Deer Creek. A check quickly confused SERIALBATER, as he was lost in the woods and had to be rescued by a trusty hare/sweeper. As the trail led on, it was less like a desire path and more like a deer path.

The second check sent the pack into an area that led to the leading quote. When trail was scouted, the weather was beautiful, it was a little squishy on the shoes, although it hadn’t rained in 9 days. Several days of rain later (and a steady rain on the day of) led to the awesome hares saying “fuck it, we’re doing it, so will they.” COCK A NOODLE got sucked off, PUSS ‘N BOOBS had a seat, and everyone else greatly enjoyed the knee deep nature that awaited them.

At the end of the swamp was a margarita quest: a BEAMER exclusive. Trail lightened up a bit, crossing a corn field. Then to a missed check (ok, BEAMER had to piss so she laid a false…shhh), where everyone ran back into the woods. Once that was cleared up, on down the field to more shiggy. WORKING MEMBER described your humble hare as “a tall asshole” for running trail through that particular point. Let the record show the hares did it multiple times, even the tall ones.

Trail loosened up a bit down a road to a Boy Scout camp, where we had a beer quest. Three really good beers were enjoyed, then on-on. A couple picture stops at the park sign and the dam led to the parking lot on the other side, where some beer and more orange food was had, along with a song.

Now on to the other side of the lake. Trail started up a path, then through some back yards, then into the shiggy and water again. On the other side was the fountain of beer, and the nicest shitter on trail. This would be where ILLUMINUTTI took off his shoes and people hung clothes out to dry.

Trail went down an existing 1/2 mile loop, halfway. Then it ended up in backyards and through some woods along the shore. The previously scouted trail had been obliterated by storms perfectly preserved and so a trail through virgin wood was a breeze. Trail took a turn west to go uphill go around the creek find a way around a fence. But after the shiggy was a shot near, with a bottle of honey jack waiting.

Trail was on the downhill spiral now, five bouts of alcohol in. Fumble steps across the field, show them ohio’s here. Set the earth reverberating, a break in fence is near. Through some minor shiggy and over/under a fence to on-in. Apparently the early arrivers got accosted by Johnny Goodneighbor, who saw us walking across a field. He stopped, on a state highway, to tell us we were trespassing. Your humble hares had secured permission beforehand, so we kindly sent him on his way, but scuttled plans for circle on site, lest the sheriff get involved.

Circle was therefore held at the on-after, where after 5 alcohol nears, no one is expected to be coherent. BEAMER did an awesome job in scoring $4 pitchers of Fat Tire and Angry Orchard, so that just helped the cause. SERIALBATER did his best distributing down-downs, songs were sung, we had fun, and maybe some visitors weren’t scared off this time.

God Bless America, and God Bless the USA
Itchy Bitsy