Sun, 18 Jun 2006

Now I can say I've been to a Bear Creek hash.
Yesterday at the Atlanta hash, some (Surly Little Bastard?) was saying, "You simply must go to the Bear Creek hash tomorrow". So we did. Me and HIV, I mean. And really, what better reason is there to drive 55 miles (each way) than to run around in a swamp?

We got there just at hare away time, but luckily so did three other cars, so we had time to fill up the Hydrapaks, smear on the sunscreen, and make our final preparations. I'm a little unclear on the hare's name, but I think it was Poppa Bear. The hare gave a quick chalk talk, warned us to hydrate, and was on his way.

There were about 12 people there. I remember Rat's Ass, and Drain Bamage. And some others. The start of trail ran on pavement for a mile or two, and then ducked into a swamp. Now when I say "swamp", I mean it was stinky, muddy, rotting, decaying, and well, swampy. I kept my shoes dry for the first couple crossings, and then the inevitable happened, and I plunged into mud up to my butt. I finally extricated myself, and caught up to the pack at the first of three (3) hare snares. The hare had already gone by the time I got there, so we amused ourselves by taking pictures. That's me in the second photo.

Those were the last pictures I took on trail, because I was too busy keeping my head above the swamp to take any more. There was a water stop, and two more hare snares. I scared the crap out of a doe, who went bounding off through the woods. HIV and the back of the pack finally caught up with us at the last hare snare. The hashers with him reported that he did fine up until he realized that he really was in the middle of a swamp, whereupon "he got really quiet". But he recovered and had a fine muddy time.

The on-in was at the hare's house, and a fine on-in it was. There was good beer, orange food, a hose to wash away the mud, and rubbing alcohol to really make those cuts and scratches sting. The ladies got to use an outdoor shower. Down-downs went well. Two Crabs drank multiple times for the hare snares and for successful intimidation of his daughter's date. There were lots of other down-downs, mostly by guys in skirts (kilts?). And there was even a naming. I forget her civilian name, but whatever it was, she will now be known as "Horse Fluffer", thanks to her dressage.

Then we shuttled back, and me and HIV drove the 55 miles home, where non-hasher Julie kept saying, "You were in a swamp?".
posted at: 22:25 | permalink |