Hares: WTB and WTFAY

Click the image above to see more of Grind Slut’s photos of Hash #1598. McPisser’s pics are here. Snatcha’s pictures can be viewed here.

Who The Fuck Are You and Wad To Blow must be angling for trail of the year. Twice in three weeks they’ve stepped in at the last minute to hare a trail in the great undisturbed shiggy of Montgomery County.

Juicy and Delicious II took place on a warm fall day just east of the location for Juicy and Delicious part one. As the hares gathered at the San Jacinto Ice House most everyone guessed we’d be on an A-to-A trail. Snatcha, still recovering from a bout of laziness and terrified by the stories of the previous J&D hash, opted to take the walkers trail.

While the pack was still gathering Snatcha noticed what looked to be a suspicious and conspicuous gathering of male hashers near a car. She wandered over, wondering what kind of scheme they were hatching, only to see Momma’s Boy wielding a slim jim. Platterpuss had locked his keys into the trunk of his car! At least we knew where the ending was.

WTFAY gave chalk talk, telling the pack the trail was marked in neon green flagging. One mark is on, two is a check, three is a false. He then asked the walkers a cryptic question — do you want to go to The Beach? Or do you want to go to The Island?

WTFAY’s instructions to the walkers was to follow regular trail about halfway in, until we got to The Island, then turn around and come back. Thanks to all the private discussion of which way we wanted to go, by the time we set off we were far behind the pack. We found the first mark easily and then it seemed that trail just stopped. To the left of us we had what appeared to be glorious shiggy. To the right of us was a Giant Rebar Mountain of Death. Opting for shiggy, we searched and searched and searched, and found nothing, until someone spotted a lone green flag tied to a single upright piece of rebar at the very top of the Giant Rebar Mountain of Death.

From the top of the mountain we again struggled to find the next mark, until finally Frangipani spied it, between two trees off in the distance. Snatcha, unwilling to backtrack to a safer place to descend the mountain, instead found herself sliding ass first down a steep face of crushed concrete and rebar. She arrived at the bottom with a few scrapes and bruises, and then had to convince Lipsticker (Gus) to do the same. So off we were through the woods again.

Soon the walkers found themselves ambling along a residential street. At the second check, trail clearly went into shiggy, but Snatcha decided to go AWOL. Having no idea how we’d know “when we got to The Island”, she opted instead for a half-hour run through the neighborhood with the plan of circling back around to the San Jacinto Ice House.

Just then she spied McPisser, cutting through the woods right in front of the second check. “Are you guys on?” he yelled. Snatcha, knowing him to be a fast runner, replied, “Uh, you’re lost dude!” Then she ran up the neighborhood street to follow him, wondering if he knew something she did not.

But soon she lost sight of him, and trail as well, so she continued with her plan of running through the neighborhood. She turned onto a nice grassy back road, and was running through trees and along what appeared to be residents’ back yards. But quickly the scenery changed — she nearly stumbled over a broken rifle hidden in the grass, and around a bend in the trees she spotted a burnt out old car. She didn’t want to get “disappeared” so she she turned around and made the long trek back towards the pavement. By that point, having been out for close to 45 minutes, she headed straight towards the railroad crossing, then to the large field behind the ice house, where Bobby Bootie was sitting in the bed of his pick-up truck.

Being the first one is is always boring, and Snatcha didn’t feel like she had run nearly enough, so she grabbed her camera and took the advice of the hare to run backwards along the last half-mile of trail to the check at the San Jacinto River. This part of the run was thoroughly enjoyable and quite beautiful, and once she arrived at the check she and Lipsticker sat on a fallen, smooth tree along the white sand river bed and watched as the first few hashers trudged through the water. Once about half the pack had come in, she ran back with Pull the Plug, Closet Freak and new boot Greg.

Circle was small but fun. The hares had provided some fancy warmed wine to drink and Dale’s Pale Ale, a strong, bitter brew. Closet Freak’s virgin Greg fit right into the ceremonies — he was even carrying a standard-issue hash bag (a plastic drawstring trash sack). The hares were made to drink a lot, with Wad To Blow asking for a stand in by using the excuse that she had to give “boobie down downs” later in the evening. Platterpuss was made to drink for locking his keys in his car, and another hasher (Just Ryan?) was called out by Grind Slut for looking for bone-on-bone action while on trail.

On On On was of course at the San Jacinto Ice House, where the proprietor had prepared for us chicken and dumplings. The locals gave us a few odd stares, but at what quality On ON On does that *not* happen?