Return to Hash Stats > Trail #17 - We Be Puttin' the Hill Back in Hillbilly

Yesterday, the 11th of July, in the Year of Our $Diety 2009, a motley crowd of 7 brave souls gathered to celebrate their weekly celebration in honor of shiggy trails, white flour, and ice cold beer.

The list of names in the book of trail feats were small because of disease, dysentery, honey-do lists, pestilence, death, famine, and drunkfests involving naked consorting with pagans. It is with shame that our numbers were few due to personal debauchery instead of heroic acts of trail fame in the honor of the hash.

Our esteemed Religious Advisor, one Taste the Rainblow, displayed her lack of navigation-foo by driving completely the wrong way on VA-688 and depositing herself somewhere down by Norfolk before deciding that she needed to ask for directions.

Being such a small pack, we waited for our wayward RA to arrive. With a 5-minute head start, the hares left in a flash of flour and the trail began.

The hares decidedly overpromised and underdelivered on the trail. To wit:
They promised short when it was long.
They promised flat when it was, in the words of one nameless hasher, "A Hilly Bitch".
They promised 2 beer checks and the pack only found one.
They promised there would be no water crossings and yet the religious advisor taunted the rain god so that the skies would be opened and the water upon the trail would turn it into a river.

The trail climbed 1000 vertical feet, hitting an Appalachian Trail shelter, a place where the creek flows underneath the rocks, and several old hillbilly ruins. At one point during the rain, the brave hares relayed the last mile of trail so that the pack could follow it in the rain and then when it started to dump so hard that you'd swear the rain was falling upwards, they sent back Davy to find the pack and lead them to safety. Eventually this pack of wet rats descended from the mountain highs back to the start and a circle was had.

The hares were violated a couple of times for something. No idea what for because this was an excellent, scenic trail that was executed flawlessly.

The RA didn't know that she was responsible for the weather. No matter, it's still a violation.

Punch My Ticket violated herself for something or another, which is strange but still fun.

Hangman was violated in abesntia because he confused a "backcheck 8" with a "beer check". What a n00b, you wouldn't guess that he was one of the founding members of the Mother Hash back in 1938 and has well over 9000 trails under his belt.

Poonskin was DFL, Rainblow was FBI, Hangman was FRB!

The pack was sad that Random Gay Guy #27 was not present because they wanted to introduce him to some other farm animals that Old McHasher owns.

In the end, the pack took pity on Rainblow and awarded the hashit to Davy because Rainblow can't navigate. Talk about the weakest excuse ever for awarding the hashit! The obvious choice would have been the RA for the extreme weather.

The pack bailed on the on-after because by that time we were verklempt after such a beautiful trail.

However, the awarding of the hashit was not all peachy for Miss Rainblow, for she had attached her mug to the hashit and now it is in the custody of one Mr Crotch Itch. Who knows what horrors the poor mug shall be exposed to.

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story
--Davy Crotch Itch