It was mercifully cool (by August Riviera standards) under the tree-shaded parking lot leading into Gattières. Nevertheless, Cumalot refused to deviate from his ultimate objective of quick and sweet to avoid sweating, and then race on to the pool Chez QuickCum (which finally explains why Cumalot does just that!). With some minimal instructions to the band of 30 or so present, and a claim that the trail was well set; and a suggestion that if we got lost, well, show up at the party afterward. Fair enough. On-On.

The first stage of the Dash was apparently the Mystery portion, although some of the rest of the trail was pretty mysterious as well. (More on that later). And so we departed directly into the village, following Padre as a front-running walker (or was he a front-walking runner?), only to be confronted almost immediately by an X. So backtracking, we picked up the trail, ran briefly through narrow alleys, only to be confronted by another X. This sequence was repeated a couple of dozen times, round and round the village until we had thoroughly explored every nook and cranny of Gattières. By the time we finally exited the ville for the final time, we were truly X-eyed.

The mystery was intended to be the maze of the village. Instead, what we found were massive piles of crottes de chien, virtually everywhere, noting that the locals all wore knee-high rubber boots which they dutifully left on their doorsteps upon entering. Interestingly, we saw no dogs, mad or otherwise, just a lot of mad Hashers wandering among the stinking piles trying to find the trail. The mystery was not so much the trail through the maze, but the unanswered question: was this obstacle course left by just one over-fed dog, by a pack, or by the locals themselves? I guess we'll never know. I'm not sure I want to know.

Having explored the cityscape, tripping over crottes, we were delighted to head back out the main street from where we first entered 15 minutes previously, and turned left heading toward the countryside. We were less thrilled when 10 meters further, the trail suddenly turned sharply up. So it was a hike on Up and UP…and UP, where to our surprise and delight, there was the Hare serving beer, wine and other refreshments on a road above the village - to the walkers who had apparently foregone the pleasures of the city in an effort to beat the runners to the beer - a small keg of Heineken which gave good head (Head? Who said Head? We'll all have some of that!) It was one of the most rapidly reached Beer-stops in memory, with an excellent view all the way down the river Var to the airport and sea. We were, of course, in no rush to move On and On.

All good things must come to an end, and so On-On it was, north along a road heading into a forest. It took some time to navigate the trail as the Hare's forementioned penchant for X's was extended to the country-side. The general style was to put a big X on the road, deviate us off into the bushes for a few meters, and quickly slip back onto the road again just beyond the X.

At this point, my ability to accurately relate what occurred on the run diminishes remarkably since Sadist, TinkerBell, and myself were dutifully checking around every rock and terrace on the steep hillside trying to determine where the random blotches of flour on trees were trying to lead us. We clearly checked too assiduously since we suddenly we found ourselves completely alone, the pack having somehow sniffed out the trail back to the road again, leaving us to fend for ourselves. This was the true mystery of the run: how had the pack disappeared so completely so quickly?

We did, however, manage to pick up the trail (by choosing the Padre strategy of ignoring X's, and made our way back down toward the village. As the three of us charged down the hill, we were surprised to see the Contessa and two other walkers standing around wondering where the trail had disappeared to. (the anonymous lost walkers will forgive me - we flashed on by too quickly to notice anything but the Confusion on the Contessa's face - No, not that Confusion who was somewhere up ahead!). We felt guilty about leaving them behind, particularly when later someone noticed that they still hadn't appeared, but then…well, we were out-of-the-woods and the way home was clearly down if not always so clearly marked - and they did eventually wander in before anyone gathered the energy to go look for them.

The Circle was the usual frolic, with Down-Downs awarded to:

The Hare, and as it turned out, his side-kick, Jobsworth - who denied any responsibility for the Crotte-Stops.

Sadist, who got lost in the beginning and was fortunately redirected by Dingus - the first time. Where was Dingus later when we needed him?

MadMax, winning the Sadist award - not for getting lost, but for falling on his ass.

The Contessa, Pedo and Prestressed for their pre-Hash impressions of their typical post-Hash drunken behavior, inspiring the local gendarmes to Breath-a-lize them. Prestressed later earned a S-O-W nomination for announcing that the only reason he passed was that he had NOT spent the previous night drinking with Big End and Padre.

Late-Cumers: Super Market Trolley and Idyl - who sauntered in just in time for down-downs with obviously no intention of even pretending to walk.

Pedo for turning down Rolling Stones concert tickets, due to the geologic age of those particular Rocks.

TinkerBell, SudSucker, Anne of Cleavage, Mad Max, Erik and Eveliene, Script-Tease and Wetspot for gracing us with their presence after a noticeable absence.

Padre for blantantly ignoring one of Cumalot's famous X's, and walking straight through it to the True Trail visible just beyond.

Diarrhea, Perpetual Motion, Didier and Nicholas for Hashy Birthdays.

Shit-of-the-Week was a hard fought contest between two misogynists ending in a tie: Pedo for refusing to pay for Mud-Wrestler to attend the up-coming Nash Hash; and Didier, for completely forgetting Diarrhea's birthday (yesterday!).

A post-script on misogyny: Didier can't remember Diarrhea's birthday, but Perpet not only dutifully remembers the birthday of his cat, but is rewarded for such noble behavior by having her crawl into bed with him on cold winter nights. No wonder Perpet smiles so much in the winter: he's finally getting some pussy.

On that note, we were off to the Splash portion of the Dash and Splash where numerous Hashers indeed made a splash in the pool to cool off after that non-exhaustive run. Recuperation came hard and fast, or should I say, CameQuickly - as Cumalot's better half, assisted by NeverCums put on a fabulous feast. A lovely Riviera evening inspired us all as we cooled out on their lawn and veranda.

Paralleling the lounging Hashers, a formal party in the garage was simultaneously organized by the younger set of pre-Hashers who entertained us with cartwheels. This, of course, degenerated when Prestressed began chasing the hosts all over the yard, presumably to gobble them up.

One final note: Cumalot proudly displayed his pirated recording of a Japanese stewardess apparently babbling the standard nonsense about 'welcome aboard'. Fortunately, SudSucker was nearby, and translated her speech to say, 'Sit down before you fall down, you dumb shit' - all very politely.

Many thanks to Cumalot and the kitchen crew for a wonderfully short, X-rated Hash and wonderfully wonderful post-party!

On-On

Wetspot