01 September 2008
96. Much Mud, No Briars
Black Sheep H3 - 31 August 08
Roadwork through downtown on a Labor Day weekend? What the hell? We heeded the dire warnings about driving on the connector and motored accordingly. There weren’t many out-of-state plates going south; most of the Hurricane Gustav evacuees were going north. And yeah, there were a lot of them, which we saw with our own eyes on our way back home.
Meh. I’m getting aHEAD of myself. We arrived at CrabbyLand to watch an ever-growing group gather under an almost-hot sun and a smattering of Gustav clouds. The out-of-town travelers of the Second Anal Hobo Hash helped us break the 50-hasher barrier, although a few of them decided getting dirty and sweaty was not as interesting as consuming adult beverages at the lake. If my memory serves me correctly, we had hashers from Charlotte, Savannah, Augusta, Macon, Tampa, Orlando and Daytona Beach. Welcome to Black Sheep. Now prepare for mud. On-Out.
2 Crabs hired Little Easy to help with the haring duties, and they trotted off at around 2:15. Our goal: to Catch the Crabs for the 7th straight year. Most of the pack got through the hares’ evil circle jerk before 2:45.
If you’ve been to Hedon/CrabbyLand enough times, you know the drill: you’ll get forest, creeks and swamps and never see pavement. And since we knew this was an A-A trail, we were hoping for a double dose of swamp. And that’s exactly what we were gifted with. We got to the first swamp by slogging across a chest-deep creek that morphed into black muck. The second swamp was even worse than the first, and I was up past my knees in mud at a couple points. This wasn’t water-and-mud… it was mud. Shoe-sucking and desperately-trying-to-take-your-next-step mud.
If you look at the area on a map, the trail seemed bigger than that because of the lung-busting hills, the large number of creeks we crossed, and mostly because we ran a majority of the trail under a canopy that had very little undergrowth. That meant our field of view was always large and unemCUMbered by branches, briars and other annoying vines.
On-In. I got back to the lake with my top-half soaked with sweat and my bottom-half coated in mud. We were soon munching on BBQ’d pork, homemade cole slaw and bourbon baked beans. The wind was picking up as Gustav moved inland, although we didn’t expect much rain if the storm continued on its current path toward New Orleans.
The large pack had Bwana constantly shushing people as he attempted to keep order during Trail Trial. Most of the hounds gave the trail a thumbs up, while some joked about there not being enough shiggy. One or two commented on the decrease in mud from previous years, and 2 Crabs suggested they take their Atlanta drought complaints straight to that uncaring bitch Mother Nature. Quite a few of the out-of-towners got to experience the joy of sitting on a block of ice. Hey guys, thanks for cumming.
Overall, a great r*n in good summer weather. Join us in two weeks when we shift our focus north to another annual Black Sheep tradition: the Lake Hartwell Campout. Get your registrations in, you wankers.
May the Hash Get a Piece
Roadwork through downtown on a Labor Day weekend? What the hell? We heeded the dire warnings about driving on the connector and motored accordingly. There weren’t many out-of-state plates going south; most of the Hurricane Gustav evacuees were going north. And yeah, there were a lot of them, which we saw with our own eyes on our way back home.
Meh. I’m getting aHEAD of myself. We arrived at CrabbyLand to watch an ever-growing group gather under an almost-hot sun and a smattering of Gustav clouds. The out-of-town travelers of the Second Anal Hobo Hash helped us break the 50-hasher barrier, although a few of them decided getting dirty and sweaty was not as interesting as consuming adult beverages at the lake. If my memory serves me correctly, we had hashers from Charlotte, Savannah, Augusta, Macon, Tampa, Orlando and Daytona Beach. Welcome to Black Sheep. Now prepare for mud. On-Out.
2 Crabs hired Little Easy to help with the haring duties, and they trotted off at around 2:15. Our goal: to Catch the Crabs for the 7th straight year. Most of the pack got through the hares’ evil circle jerk before 2:45.
If you’ve been to Hedon/CrabbyLand enough times, you know the drill: you’ll get forest, creeks and swamps and never see pavement. And since we knew this was an A-A trail, we were hoping for a double dose of swamp. And that’s exactly what we were gifted with. We got to the first swamp by slogging across a chest-deep creek that morphed into black muck. The second swamp was even worse than the first, and I was up past my knees in mud at a couple points. This wasn’t water-and-mud… it was mud. Shoe-sucking and desperately-trying-to-take-your-next-step mud.
If you look at the area on a map, the trail seemed bigger than that because of the lung-busting hills, the large number of creeks we crossed, and mostly because we ran a majority of the trail under a canopy that had very little undergrowth. That meant our field of view was always large and unemCUMbered by branches, briars and other annoying vines.
On-In. I got back to the lake with my top-half soaked with sweat and my bottom-half coated in mud. We were soon munching on BBQ’d pork, homemade cole slaw and bourbon baked beans. The wind was picking up as Gustav moved inland, although we didn’t expect much rain if the storm continued on its current path toward New Orleans.
The large pack had Bwana constantly shushing people as he attempted to keep order during Trail Trial. Most of the hounds gave the trail a thumbs up, while some joked about there not being enough shiggy. One or two commented on the decrease in mud from previous years, and 2 Crabs suggested they take their Atlanta drought complaints straight to that uncaring bitch Mother Nature. Quite a few of the out-of-towners got to experience the joy of sitting on a block of ice. Hey guys, thanks for cumming.
Overall, a great r*n in good summer weather. Join us in two weeks when we shift our focus north to another annual Black Sheep tradition: the Lake Hartwell Campout. Get your registrations in, you wankers.
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 8:24 AM 
