Quaillewd's Post Half Marathon Hash

Farty Bum's Walkers Run Report 484

Having read Padre's run report with it's rather disparaging comments about the walkers ability to follow the trail -- he actually referred to us as the Ladies Knitting Circle! - this walker came to the conclusion that such insults call for a spirited rebutal. So here is the walkers' version.

It was indeed a cold and miserable day as we headed towards the Var, surrounded on all sides by menacing black clouds. Arriving in the car park, we nearly froze to death in the damp cold wind while waiting for the start. But in spite of this, 32 hardy hashers showed up. Fly Me was not one of them. Besides being too wimpy to come herself, she tried to convince Cum Cum to stay at home too! But Cum Cum is made of stronger stuff.

We were pleased to see the return of our French virgins from the last run - Marina and 9-year-old Cedric, and this time they brought 17-year-old Jonathon as well. This agreeable family seems to be taking to the hash like ducks to water. We were also pleased to have three female Swedish visitors - Hot Lips, Ylva and GoodRun. And then we had Big End's entire tribe - a son, a daughter, two spouses, two six-month-old babies and young Rebecca. They didn't come on the run however, as the trail was much too rough for baby strollers.

As Padre correctly reported, Wetspot asked for a ten-minute head-start, and dashed out of the car park onto a road heading downwards. When the ten minutes were up, we all headed down this road. But Wet Spot had sneakily climbed up the bank as soon as he was out of sight, and headed off in another direction, down a rocky hillside. The runners soon began to climb up this bank, with some of them returning to the top and accessing the hillside from there.

Meanwhile, the walkers had a map which Wetspot had handed to Farty Bum. The map showed the walkers route to be kind of a straight-looking course around three sides of a square. The walkers therefore wondered if they were meant to stay on the road. It was here we realized that Wetspot had handed the map to Farty Bum while she was taking the names of Big End's large clan, and she had therefore not heard any of the instructions he gave her. Some thought we were supposed to stay on the road, since the course on the map looked so straight, but others were sure that they had heard Wetspot say that the walkers were to follow the runners. So we turned around and headed up the bank where the runners had disappeared.

From now on the weather was cool and kind of misty, but not uncomfortable.

We had to go down this rocky slope, and the rocks were extremely slippery after the morning's rain. Gerard took a tumble, and although it looked like he should have broken his tail-bone, he reported only a sore shoulder, and continued on. We went down to the left, and after awhile crossed a road (I think), probably the one we had been on earlier, and then continued up the slippery rocks on the other side. The path twisted and turned so much that once again the walkers came to a halt and wondered if they had not been supposed to stay on the road, since the course on the map seemed to be so straight in comparison to what we were doing. But once again those who had been paying attention insisted that we were to follow the same flour as the runners, so we went on.

After awhile we came into an open area and the flour disappeared. Everyone spread out and searched. Eventually Droopy Tits discovered a blob of flour downhill, and then another one farther down, so on-on was called and we started down. At the same moment, Skinny Ah So called out that she had discovered flour higher up. We called out that hers was probably just the top blob that we had missed in our search, and continued down. Skinny Ah So stood there for a minute, then shrugged her shoulders and started down. What she neglected to say was, what she had found was not a blob of flour, but a large arrow, pointing up.

We followed the flour downwards through the bushes until the trail came out near a road. We searched for flour all around us in the bushes, across the road in the bushes, down the road and up the road, but no trace of flour was found. After awhile some of us went back up the trail to the last blob of flour we had seen, and there was definitely no other exit where the trail could have led, so we again went down the trail and searched in the bushes on this side of the road, in the bushes on the other side of the road, down the road and up the road. We later found out that if we had continued up this road we would have arrived at the beer stop, and if we had continued down it we would have arrived back at the car park, but at the time we had no idea where the beer stop was, so had no reason to stay on the road.

At this point Cum Cum began to show some initiative and navigational skills. She took the map, turned it around a few times, oriented herself, and declared, "We are here." Then, after examining the map some more, she pointed to the hills on our right and announced, "And that's where we should be, up there." But how to get there? Where was the trail?

At the same moment Skinny Ah So was making a phone call to PreStressed. She described the route we had taken so precisely that PreStressed was able to interrupt her at the exact spot, and say, "No, you should have turned to the right there, and gone uphill."

(Padre, in his report, called this as "an obscene phone call". )

So we turned back down the road, returned to the spot where we had come out of the bushes, and went back up the trail we had descended twice already, following flour. Later on Wetspot cheerfully admitted that he had made "a few extra trails there", with no Xs to indicate they were false. Could it possibly be that Wetspot was the person who hadn't "quite got the hang of trail marking"? Could it possibly be that Wetspot is the person who should join a knitting (or shit-of-the-week) club?

We got back to the open area where we had lost flour, and there discovered the large arrow pointing upwards. We all felt a certain respect for Skinny Ah So at this point, and vowed to pay more attention to her remarks in future. A great deal of time had been lost, and the runners were surely miles away by now.

We headed up. I believe this is the place where Padre described the route as "up a bit, left a bit, up a bit, left a bit more, and up again." We went up a small gravel road for awhile, I think, with Charles pointing out various flowers and herbs, and then across a kind of large flat rock where it was hard to see flour, and then ahead of us we saw a bright orange speck in the distance, which was Wetspot coming to find us. We went through some trees, and then came out near a large boulder, where Wetspot, after pointing out some mushrooms growing on top of another large boulder near-by, told us to keep going straight ahead, while he went back to find the walkers who were bringing up the rear.

We went along a nice path through trees, and after awhile came to a fork in the trail. Charles and I continued straight on, but were halted by a shout from the others, who had turned down the trail to the right. We followed them onto the downward trail, and stopped for a discussion. No one was sure which trail was the correct one, because there was no flour anywhere anymore, but Skinny Ah So cried, "Didn't you see the arrow up there?" Arrow? What arrow? We hadn't seen any arrow. We went back up, and sure enough, there was an invisible arrow, scratched in the dirt with a stick, or one of the runners' heels perhaps. Our admiration for Skinny Ah So was beginning to know no bounds, and as we continued down the trail, some of the walkers began to discuss the idea of a special Boy Scout down-down for her, in honour of her observation skills.

The trail went down, down, and down, eventually coming out into an open area with more of those huge boulders scattered around. We passed between some of them, and heard behind us the voices of Wetspot and the slower walkers on the last part of the long descent. It was now 1:30, we were supposed to be at the restaurant before 2 o'clock, and the beer stop was still nowhere to be seen. We asked Wetspot when he caught up to us what he was going to do about the restaurant, and he laughed in a kind of reckless, desperate way and said he didn't know. We reminded him that hashes never work out the way you plan them. Some of the kinder-hearted walkers remarked that it might not be so bad if we fowled up on the restaurant, as then at least Cumalot wouldn't feel quite so bad about his own restaurant disaster in La Gaude last month.

We continued down over the flat rocks. Saw Padre run past down below. Saw a road in the distance and a parked vehicle - surely the beer stop. But when we arrived at the bottom, a stranger got into the vehicle and drove away. We started down the road, and there, finally, was Cumalot waiting patiently for us beside the road. Twenty minutes to two. Most of the walkers took one of those small bags of chips and hurried back to the road. The slower ones were instructed to get into the beer car and ride back with Cumalot. We hurried in the direction of the car park. Several maniacal French drivers roared past us and we commented on the small size of their brains.

A car approached from the other direction. It was Absolutely Pathetic. He picked up three walkers, turned around and roared back almost as fast as the French drivers we had just been criticising. Another car approached - Padre, I believe, to pick up more walkers. Just before arriving at the car park we passed Mad Max and young Cedric walking along the side of the road. Marina happy to see her child. Ten minutes to two. A fast down-down for those not going to the restaurant. But we forgot to do Cumalot for his birthday (40th birthday).

We hurried off to the restaurant in the village of Le Muy, arriving several minutes past the deadline. We anxiously asked the propriétaire if they would still accept us. Not to worry, these people were far more civilized than the tempermental lot in La Gaude. They welcomed us in graciously. Lovely meal. The lower end of the table was a bit like being in a nursery with all the babies and baby paraphanelia. (Padre got that quote about eating the baby all wrong.) A special down-down for Charles in honour of the royal wedding, to share with the female of his choice. He chose Kathy, the virgin across the table, puckered his lips, and leaned across. But Kathy was looking the other way, excitedly following the words of the song in order to be ready to start drinking at the proper moment. After an indecent wait, Charles unpuckered his lips and feeling rather foolish and crushed, drank his down-down.

And what about the boy scout award for Skinny Ah So? She didn't get it. Instead they gave her shit-of-the-week! The injustice of it! But she will open her mouth and make those inflammatory comments in front of the runners…..