05 November 2005
48. The Haring of a Lifetime
Savannahhh - 13 January 2005 to 16 January 2005
Humbly submitted by the hare, it's...
THE UNOFFICIAL HASH TRASH OF #???
The possibility of becoming the flour-clad bunny in Savannahhh came up as I was volunteering to help Slip 'n Side move. The conversation went something like this:
L&F: "Hey, I'll take off work both Thurday and Friday and go to Savannahhh for an extended weekend to help you move, if we can go to Thursday's hash, and you can drive me around to scout trail on Friday. Because I'd be haring Saturday, and you'd have to drive me to that, too."
Slip: "Oh my God, of course I'll help you. You're such a wonderful guy for volunteering."
Actually, I think her response was:
"Bugger off, wanker. Find your own damn chauffeur."
But I'm not a big fan of remembering these type of petty details. So onward...
The soon-to-be ex-Savannahhh hasher picked me up at work on Wednesday evening , and about four hours later, I was getting my first taste of her two dogs. Actually, they were getting a taste of me. Her boxer Tobias couldn't stop licking me, and her parent's weimaraner Luke wouldn't stop biting me. In addition to being a furniture mover, I guess I had also volunteered to be a 140-pound canine chew toy. Mmm... human.
Things settled down considerably the next day when the dogs decided to treat me only as a curiosity rather than food. We had decided to scout Thursday, and that ended up consisting of us driving around the outskirts of the city, looking for a large area of shiggy that didn't have too much road and no possibility of tides or neck-deep water. Checked off the list were places along Harry Truman Parkway and across Hwy 204. We then looked at others along Hwy 80, and after driving around Pooler for a while, decided to give up for the day. But driving back to I-16 on Pooler Parkway, we ran into something I can only describe as a shiggy orgasm. First, there was forest, then a power cut, then breaks in the fence lining the entire street. And was that a glimmer of water? Mmm... swampy.
We went back down Hwy 80 later that night for Thursday's hash, hared by RV. This is where I learned some more about traditions of the Savannahhh hash that I had not fully injested in previous trips. These included being as entertaining as possible during chalk talk and ... something I'll never remember... wearing cranium gear in circle. Oh, and it's important for visitors to get quite drunk by the time everyone leaves the on-after. I didn't have much problem obliging. Mmm... beer.
After discussing my half-minded plans to the other half-minds at the on-after, we decided I should try this "new" area for trail. So on Friday, Slip and I went back out and did a little car scouting. Using a school parking lot off Pine Barren road as the starting point, it didn't take long to piece together what would turn out to be a three mile loop of shiggy, which included a lovely end near a lake about 1/2 mile from the start. While an A-B trail would be a little more work, I figured the secluded ending would be worth the effort.
Now, I realize there are some of you more adventurous hares who might find it odd that I would want to go out and pre-run this trail. But as a hasher who has hared 11 trails in Atlanta, let me assure you... it's a habit that I would find quite difficult to break. It's that five-minute head- (yes, I said the h-word) start we get, and the scattered looks of disappointment we get during circle if we do something dumb. Yes, haring in Atlanta has turned me into some sort of paranoid freak. So off I went, GPS in hand, searching for interesting bits of shiggy to take everyone through, while connecting the dots we had made while driving around in the car. Oh, by the way, you obviously do a great job helping your new Savannahhh hashers learn the utmost of southern hashpotality, since Slip actually drove to the lake to wait for me as I ran the entire trail. Well, she DID have a bum knee and a book to read, but still...
On to Saturday. January 15th. The day of the hash. And that bitch Mother Nature and that rat-bastard Father Time couldn't get together and keep the warm weather around for a while longer. It was freaking cold. So I was hopping around trying to keep warm as I watched the hashers roll in. And there was as lot of them. I'd like to think the turnout was high because everyone wanted to see how some out-of-town dork could ruin a perfectly fine day, but no... it was obviously because this was Slip 'n Side and Double Penetration's last hash, as well as one of their last days looking at Spanish moss dangling from the trees. I'm not going to try to list everyone who showed up because I'll forget someone, and that would be bad. Almost as bad as a judge using a penis pump during court cases.
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0121051judge1.html
Um, sorry. Tangent.
So how did I do on chalk talk? Eh. I'm working on it. Aside from the quality of my rambling, the general consensus was that I had too many marks, which was confusing to people who just wanted to get to the end and drink. So amid the criticism, I faced everyone, grabbed my sack (of flour) and vanished.
Down the street I ambled, only partially comforted by the fact that I had three times the normal lead time I have at home. With floured fingers flying, I threw tit checks, dick checks and a couple dead trails, hoping to buy a little time until I could get to the beer check. The road rage was right at the start, but it was only long enough to get past the school and the private property issues. Mere minutes after I took off, I dove into the watery shiggy off Pine Barren Ave. and shelved the flour in favor of every hasher's favorite TP... Scott thousand-sheet rolls. Ankle deep swamp led to some not-so-bad briars, a glowing-green pine forest and a little jaunt along an access road. At just the right moment, I veered off the road and nimbly dashed back into the forest... only to get tangled up in a patch of nasty briars. I soon freed my pathetic self, and made a beeline for a break in the fence at Pooler Blvd.
Across the street, the forest was less briar-ish, and made for some decent running to the beer stop. It was here amid the glorious cans of PBR and the sound of whistles did I realize I had dropped my GPS. Seconds later, the front of the pack arrived to laugh at my 350-dollar misfortune. At least until Just ????? walked backwards a few yards and found it on the ground. There was much rejoicing, but also more laughing, so I once again grabbed my sack (of flour) and bolted.
Because of the beer stop, I figured I'd have more time for the second part of trail, but this was going to be more difficult to lay. So I stepped it up a bit as I ran north to the next break in the fence on Pooler Blvd. This one led to a disgustingly beautiful swamp, complete with scores of reeds, bamboo, and at times, some hamsterland-type briars. And how can anyone forget the thigh-high creeks? The going was slow but highly entertaining for this mud-loving hare, and I was sad to see it end when I approached the power cut. With the buzz of the wires all around me, I laid marks down to the final piece of forest, which led to the dirt trail around the lake. On In.
The sun had set while I was in the swamp, and it was almost dark by the time I reached the end. As the wet and muddy hounds trickled in, I found myself repeatedly surprised at how cool everyone was being to the person who just gave them such a shitty trail. And during circle, Glad did an impressive job making me drink numerous times for various offenses. And holy crap, the biggest surprise of all... I was allowed to suck down precious malty liquid from the ceremonial Savannahhh Hashit. Wow.
I hate to get sentimental here, but you guys rock. Thanks to everyone for cumming out and proving once again that I'm an idiot for not hashing with you more often.
Until next time... May the Hash Get a Piece
-L&F
Humbly submitted by the hare, it's...
THE UNOFFICIAL HASH TRASH OF #???
The possibility of becoming the flour-clad bunny in Savannahhh came up as I was volunteering to help Slip 'n Side move. The conversation went something like this:
L&F: "Hey, I'll take off work both Thurday and Friday and go to Savannahhh for an extended weekend to help you move, if we can go to Thursday's hash, and you can drive me around to scout trail on Friday. Because I'd be haring Saturday, and you'd have to drive me to that, too."
Slip: "Oh my God, of course I'll help you. You're such a wonderful guy for volunteering."
Actually, I think her response was:
"Bugger off, wanker. Find your own damn chauffeur."
But I'm not a big fan of remembering these type of petty details. So onward...
The soon-to-be ex-Savannahhh hasher picked me up at work on Wednesday evening , and about four hours later, I was getting my first taste of her two dogs. Actually, they were getting a taste of me. Her boxer Tobias couldn't stop licking me, and her parent's weimaraner Luke wouldn't stop biting me. In addition to being a furniture mover, I guess I had also volunteered to be a 140-pound canine chew toy. Mmm... human.
Things settled down considerably the next day when the dogs decided to treat me only as a curiosity rather than food. We had decided to scout Thursday, and that ended up consisting of us driving around the outskirts of the city, looking for a large area of shiggy that didn't have too much road and no possibility of tides or neck-deep water. Checked off the list were places along Harry Truman Parkway and across Hwy 204. We then looked at others along Hwy 80, and after driving around Pooler for a while, decided to give up for the day. But driving back to I-16 on Pooler Parkway, we ran into something I can only describe as a shiggy orgasm. First, there was forest, then a power cut, then breaks in the fence lining the entire street. And was that a glimmer of water? Mmm... swampy.
We went back down Hwy 80 later that night for Thursday's hash, hared by RV. This is where I learned some more about traditions of the Savannahhh hash that I had not fully injested in previous trips. These included being as entertaining as possible during chalk talk and ... something I'll never remember... wearing cranium gear in circle. Oh, and it's important for visitors to get quite drunk by the time everyone leaves the on-after. I didn't have much problem obliging. Mmm... beer.
After discussing my half-minded plans to the other half-minds at the on-after, we decided I should try this "new" area for trail. So on Friday, Slip and I went back out and did a little car scouting. Using a school parking lot off Pine Barren road as the starting point, it didn't take long to piece together what would turn out to be a three mile loop of shiggy, which included a lovely end near a lake about 1/2 mile from the start. While an A-B trail would be a little more work, I figured the secluded ending would be worth the effort.
Now, I realize there are some of you more adventurous hares who might find it odd that I would want to go out and pre-run this trail. But as a hasher who has hared 11 trails in Atlanta, let me assure you... it's a habit that I would find quite difficult to break. It's that five-minute head- (yes, I said the h-word) start we get, and the scattered looks of disappointment we get during circle if we do something dumb. Yes, haring in Atlanta has turned me into some sort of paranoid freak. So off I went, GPS in hand, searching for interesting bits of shiggy to take everyone through, while connecting the dots we had made while driving around in the car. Oh, by the way, you obviously do a great job helping your new Savannahhh hashers learn the utmost of southern hashpotality, since Slip actually drove to the lake to wait for me as I ran the entire trail. Well, she DID have a bum knee and a book to read, but still...
On to Saturday. January 15th. The day of the hash. And that bitch Mother Nature and that rat-bastard Father Time couldn't get together and keep the warm weather around for a while longer. It was freaking cold. So I was hopping around trying to keep warm as I watched the hashers roll in. And there was as lot of them. I'd like to think the turnout was high because everyone wanted to see how some out-of-town dork could ruin a perfectly fine day, but no... it was obviously because this was Slip 'n Side and Double Penetration's last hash, as well as one of their last days looking at Spanish moss dangling from the trees. I'm not going to try to list everyone who showed up because I'll forget someone, and that would be bad. Almost as bad as a judge using a penis pump during court cases.
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0121051judge1.html
Um, sorry. Tangent.
So how did I do on chalk talk? Eh. I'm working on it. Aside from the quality of my rambling, the general consensus was that I had too many marks, which was confusing to people who just wanted to get to the end and drink. So amid the criticism, I faced everyone, grabbed my sack (of flour) and vanished.
Down the street I ambled, only partially comforted by the fact that I had three times the normal lead time I have at home. With floured fingers flying, I threw tit checks, dick checks and a couple dead trails, hoping to buy a little time until I could get to the beer check. The road rage was right at the start, but it was only long enough to get past the school and the private property issues. Mere minutes after I took off, I dove into the watery shiggy off Pine Barren Ave. and shelved the flour in favor of every hasher's favorite TP... Scott thousand-sheet rolls. Ankle deep swamp led to some not-so-bad briars, a glowing-green pine forest and a little jaunt along an access road. At just the right moment, I veered off the road and nimbly dashed back into the forest... only to get tangled up in a patch of nasty briars. I soon freed my pathetic self, and made a beeline for a break in the fence at Pooler Blvd.
Across the street, the forest was less briar-ish, and made for some decent running to the beer stop. It was here amid the glorious cans of PBR and the sound of whistles did I realize I had dropped my GPS. Seconds later, the front of the pack arrived to laugh at my 350-dollar misfortune. At least until Just ????? walked backwards a few yards and found it on the ground. There was much rejoicing, but also more laughing, so I once again grabbed my sack (of flour) and bolted.
Because of the beer stop, I figured I'd have more time for the second part of trail, but this was going to be more difficult to lay. So I stepped it up a bit as I ran north to the next break in the fence on Pooler Blvd. This one led to a disgustingly beautiful swamp, complete with scores of reeds, bamboo, and at times, some hamsterland-type briars. And how can anyone forget the thigh-high creeks? The going was slow but highly entertaining for this mud-loving hare, and I was sad to see it end when I approached the power cut. With the buzz of the wires all around me, I laid marks down to the final piece of forest, which led to the dirt trail around the lake. On In.
The sun had set while I was in the swamp, and it was almost dark by the time I reached the end. As the wet and muddy hounds trickled in, I found myself repeatedly surprised at how cool everyone was being to the person who just gave them such a shitty trail. And during circle, Glad did an impressive job making me drink numerous times for various offenses. And holy crap, the biggest surprise of all... I was allowed to suck down precious malty liquid from the ceremonial Savannahhh Hashit. Wow.
I hate to get sentimental here, but you guys rock. Thanks to everyone for cumming out and proving once again that I'm an idiot for not hashing with you more often.
Until next time... May the Hash Get a Piece
-L&F
# posted by L&F @ 6:26 PM 
