The rain was attacking us horizontally, carried on a southwesterly gale, as we forsook the dry interior of our chariots and gathered to hear the usual. Heidi had dragged along a newbie John for a literal baptism and the hares told us about flatness and dryness etc and also about numbered clothes pegs to be collected. So after a bit of initial hunting we headed south into the gale up The Down, through Calloways and soon arrived at the church, where the organ was in full voice. Some confusion here, with The GNU telling us that the trail didnt go through the churchyard and then running through herself. We then slithered and slipped our way up the steep path just east of the church arriving at a check at it's junction with the easier way up. Here, no flour being found in all the easy options, Pancsi took us all up the near vertical north face which turned out to be false, and when the pack turned to descend found it was stuck like a cat up a tree, just too slippy to get back down. We would still be up there now if we hadn't managed to hold hands and other bodily parts in order to get down. The true trail had been washed out, so the hares directed us east, with few pegs collected.
Bye and bye we found ourselves peering up at a trail that was so steep it was giving us a pain in the neck just to look at it. Who would be stupid enough to check it out, Old faithful that's who. Up and up he went, resorting to hands and knees for the final part and then he disapeared stage left.... was he on ? well not actualy, the true trail lay to the left but half way up the slope. Unfortunately this was not discovered until after yours truly and newbie John had followed Old Faithful.
We met up again with the pack after stumbling on the end of a false trail (no peg) and finding our way to a check set in the midst of chest high nettles. This time no one tried to check up hill and thankfully we found trail further east and on the level. Soon we were descending, emerging from the trees in East Lavington and turning west, heading back, not without a quick stop under a misletoe infested tree, where Dr Blood tried to give all the females a kiss, well we were heading for the Stud Farm.
A few more checks took us around paddocks filled with excited mares and foals and then northwest through a field full of rampant bullocks, a regular safari hash this. Then it was all over, ahhh, as we arrived at the chariots after about one and half hours of sloshing.
A short break in the monsoon gave time to thank the hares, nominate Splasher for not splashing, Godiva for giving one of the masters some "assistance" down the slope (whatever that means ?) and award the hash-it to newbie John for his Tarzan impression (me Tarzan you Heidi ?).
A load of pegs were swapped for prizes, thanks to Frances and Paul, before retiring to The Foresters to dry out.