12 June 2006
69. A Little Clarification
Black Sheep H3 - 11 June 2006
Some people have hobbies that require them to buy things like paint and brushes. Some people fix up classic cars and have to find spare parts. My pastime forces me to get a tetanus shot and a Hep A vaccine. And after this trail was over, I was glad I had both. This was one of the best Black Sheep trails I’ve done.
That was pretty much what I uttered at trail trial, and I’ve now had enough people ask me about that statement that I guess it wouldn’t hurt to explain myself. So here you go:
WHAT MAKES A HOUND BLURT OUT SUPERLATIVES AS OFTEN AS HYPER-INTELLECTUAL SNOBS BLURT OUT BIG WORDS LIKE "SUPERLATIVE"
--Getting to Experience Something Epic.
Maybe the trail is all underground and you have to fight claustrophobia and a rather unpleasant smell. Or maybe your trail is 6 miles of gorgeous but tough, hilly terrain that makes everyone come in wide-eyed but exhausted. Today’s question is: can you have one piece of geography that turns the trail from good to great? Today’s answer is: Yes. (Get ready for more superlatives.) We went through the toughest patch of swamp I’ve ever been through on a Black Sheep trail, and it eclipsed the pain of the toughest swamps I’ve ever experienced at a Southern Comfort or down in Macon. Put it this way... this swamp nearly broke some people. It started off innocent enough, with some calf-deep muck and the occasional ankle-busting deadfall. But all of a sudden, we made a turn, the forest canopy disappeared and it quickly turned into this slog-fest, where we were all knee-to-thigh-deep in mud, straining to pull our feet out at every step. There was also at least a foot of water on top of all the mud. People were stuck and screaming. Others were losing shoes and screaming. Stopping only meant you sank that much deeper, making it that much more difficult to keep moving. The air temperature didn’t seem overly bad here, but the swamp water was so warm, it made it feel like the Jolly Green Giant had just used the swamp as his personal toilet, and that uncomfortable feeling made us want to get back to solid ground that much faster. But we couldn’t. After fatigue set in, I started looking around for stuff I could grab onto, to help pull me out of the mess every time I needed to take a step. Sometimes I found the rounded stump of a small tree. Other times I found a patch of reeds. But more than half the time there wasn’t anything to grab, so I was forced to curse tall people and keep fighting. Toward the edge of the swamp, there was no water, and it made us think we were finished. But the mud was just as deep, and without water, this was even more psychologically punishing. After we got to the on-in, we estimated this whole area was about 200 yards, which works out to about a tenth of a mile. One little piece of geography that definitely left some mental scars.
--Having to Push Yourself to the Limit.
Some of this has nothing to do with the hares, but with your own energy level and the weather. It was well over 90 degrees during trail, and that can suck the energy right out of you. It was actually as hot as it was two weeks ago, but there was a breeze this time around, so it didn’t feel as bad. Also, I’m still recovering from an injury, and I’m not back to where I need to be physically. So that swamp and those painfully small tunnels absolutely beat me down. Oh yeah, the tunnels. After we got done with the swamp, the hares decided to take us through a series of tunnels under the business park at Beaver Ruin. Colonel Clit and Top Cunt told the hares to bring flashlights, but some didn’t. Other hounds had their batteries give out while down there. The only help they got was from lighted hashers who might have been near them, and the occasional glow stick thoughtfully placed at every intersection. Turn after turn ensued, and at one point, the tunnels got small enough where it was necessary to walk on all fours.
--Getting Way More Good Than Bad.
There were some areas where the marks were really thin, especially right after the tunnels. If it weren’t for us noticing the Slack Sheepers making a beeline for the end, some of us tunnel rats would have been stumped. Also, there were several points where CB’s and a WS and something else we couldn’t figure out was placed over vegetation using flour. They were mostly unreadable. There have been trails where this stuff would have been a death sentence during trail trial, but not one person even mentioned them this time around. Some examples of good vs. bad are more about personal experiences on trail, rather than the overall group experience. Before we got to the swamp, I had seen a couple hounds who let branches swing back and hit the people who were behind them. One of these hounds was especially thoughtless, and at one point, a really thick branch flew back and smacked me right in the nuts. News flash to anyone without testicleeze: if you get hit right, you get the lovely experience of a blinding pain where you double over and try to keep your eyes from watering. About a quarter mile later, I see this thoughtless hound try to jump down into a really dirty creek and make a quick cut to the right at the same time, and they end up slipping and doing a face plant in the water. Ahhh, it’s the little things.
--Getting Sympathy Pains while on Trail.
Yeah, this is probably only me, but there are times when we’re all suffering on trail and I’m actually feeling bad for whoever SCOUTED it. Blazing trails can be tough, especially when you’re in virgin territory, working through really tough spots, or don’t have a map/GPS.
--Having Your Brain Stay Active While Moving.
This is one reason that road turns into road rage. It’s boring. Forest running with some deadfall presents a challenge. Running through an abandoned house is entertaining. And you can’t turn off your brain while running through creeks. I actually used part of my half-mind on this trail trying to figure out how the two hares split the flour duties. A trail that turns into a constant mental assault leads to happiness. Huh, I said doody.
And finally...
--Having the Boys get Wet.
If I was female, it would be “Getting the Beaver Wet,” although if I was female, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want that to happen. Yes, I actually know how many times in a row that Slim Jim and the Twins get submerged. Prior to this hash, I went four trails without that happening. Trails usually don’t get a positive superlative if the boys aren’t moistened. In case you think I’m being heartless, this means around 70% of my OWN trails would be automatically disqualified.
This has been an opinion piece from a hash retard. So don’t bother wasting precious beer-drinking energy trying to disagree. These are my personal guidelines, and I suck anyway.
May the Hash Get a Piece
Some people have hobbies that require them to buy things like paint and brushes. Some people fix up classic cars and have to find spare parts. My pastime forces me to get a tetanus shot and a Hep A vaccine. And after this trail was over, I was glad I had both. This was one of the best Black Sheep trails I’ve done.
That was pretty much what I uttered at trail trial, and I’ve now had enough people ask me about that statement that I guess it wouldn’t hurt to explain myself. So here you go:
WHAT MAKES A HOUND BLURT OUT SUPERLATIVES AS OFTEN AS HYPER-INTELLECTUAL SNOBS BLURT OUT BIG WORDS LIKE "SUPERLATIVE"
--Getting to Experience Something Epic.
Maybe the trail is all underground and you have to fight claustrophobia and a rather unpleasant smell. Or maybe your trail is 6 miles of gorgeous but tough, hilly terrain that makes everyone come in wide-eyed but exhausted. Today’s question is: can you have one piece of geography that turns the trail from good to great? Today’s answer is: Yes. (Get ready for more superlatives.) We went through the toughest patch of swamp I’ve ever been through on a Black Sheep trail, and it eclipsed the pain of the toughest swamps I’ve ever experienced at a Southern Comfort or down in Macon. Put it this way... this swamp nearly broke some people. It started off innocent enough, with some calf-deep muck and the occasional ankle-busting deadfall. But all of a sudden, we made a turn, the forest canopy disappeared and it quickly turned into this slog-fest, where we were all knee-to-thigh-deep in mud, straining to pull our feet out at every step. There was also at least a foot of water on top of all the mud. People were stuck and screaming. Others were losing shoes and screaming. Stopping only meant you sank that much deeper, making it that much more difficult to keep moving. The air temperature didn’t seem overly bad here, but the swamp water was so warm, it made it feel like the Jolly Green Giant had just used the swamp as his personal toilet, and that uncomfortable feeling made us want to get back to solid ground that much faster. But we couldn’t. After fatigue set in, I started looking around for stuff I could grab onto, to help pull me out of the mess every time I needed to take a step. Sometimes I found the rounded stump of a small tree. Other times I found a patch of reeds. But more than half the time there wasn’t anything to grab, so I was forced to curse tall people and keep fighting. Toward the edge of the swamp, there was no water, and it made us think we were finished. But the mud was just as deep, and without water, this was even more psychologically punishing. After we got to the on-in, we estimated this whole area was about 200 yards, which works out to about a tenth of a mile. One little piece of geography that definitely left some mental scars.
--Having to Push Yourself to the Limit.
Some of this has nothing to do with the hares, but with your own energy level and the weather. It was well over 90 degrees during trail, and that can suck the energy right out of you. It was actually as hot as it was two weeks ago, but there was a breeze this time around, so it didn’t feel as bad. Also, I’m still recovering from an injury, and I’m not back to where I need to be physically. So that swamp and those painfully small tunnels absolutely beat me down. Oh yeah, the tunnels. After we got done with the swamp, the hares decided to take us through a series of tunnels under the business park at Beaver Ruin. Colonel Clit and Top Cunt told the hares to bring flashlights, but some didn’t. Other hounds had their batteries give out while down there. The only help they got was from lighted hashers who might have been near them, and the occasional glow stick thoughtfully placed at every intersection. Turn after turn ensued, and at one point, the tunnels got small enough where it was necessary to walk on all fours.
--Getting Way More Good Than Bad.
There were some areas where the marks were really thin, especially right after the tunnels. If it weren’t for us noticing the Slack Sheepers making a beeline for the end, some of us tunnel rats would have been stumped. Also, there were several points where CB’s and a WS and something else we couldn’t figure out was placed over vegetation using flour. They were mostly unreadable. There have been trails where this stuff would have been a death sentence during trail trial, but not one person even mentioned them this time around. Some examples of good vs. bad are more about personal experiences on trail, rather than the overall group experience. Before we got to the swamp, I had seen a couple hounds who let branches swing back and hit the people who were behind them. One of these hounds was especially thoughtless, and at one point, a really thick branch flew back and smacked me right in the nuts. News flash to anyone without testicleeze: if you get hit right, you get the lovely experience of a blinding pain where you double over and try to keep your eyes from watering. About a quarter mile later, I see this thoughtless hound try to jump down into a really dirty creek and make a quick cut to the right at the same time, and they end up slipping and doing a face plant in the water. Ahhh, it’s the little things.
--Getting Sympathy Pains while on Trail.
Yeah, this is probably only me, but there are times when we’re all suffering on trail and I’m actually feeling bad for whoever SCOUTED it. Blazing trails can be tough, especially when you’re in virgin territory, working through really tough spots, or don’t have a map/GPS.
--Having Your Brain Stay Active While Moving.
This is one reason that road turns into road rage. It’s boring. Forest running with some deadfall presents a challenge. Running through an abandoned house is entertaining. And you can’t turn off your brain while running through creeks. I actually used part of my half-mind on this trail trying to figure out how the two hares split the flour duties. A trail that turns into a constant mental assault leads to happiness. Huh, I said doody.
And finally...
--Having the Boys get Wet.
If I was female, it would be “Getting the Beaver Wet,” although if I was female, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want that to happen. Yes, I actually know how many times in a row that Slim Jim and the Twins get submerged. Prior to this hash, I went four trails without that happening. Trails usually don’t get a positive superlative if the boys aren’t moistened. In case you think I’m being heartless, this means around 70% of my OWN trails would be automatically disqualified.
This has been an opinion piece from a hash retard. So don’t bother wasting precious beer-drinking energy trying to disagree. These are my personal guidelines, and I suck anyway.
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 11:38 PM 
