It is said that Eskimos, sorry, indigenous arctic people, have a hundred words
that mean snow. By the same token it is likely that the inhabitants of Heyshott
have many ways of describing sand.
So it was that a dozen strong pack sauntered out along the road due west with Bika dutifully
toting a tube of flour to mark the checks for any late arrivals.
The first serious check came at the edge of the common and all were working hard to find the way out. Dogwhistle was the lucky one, while Bika risked all on a downhill falsie then to be faced with a leg sapping climb back on dark red sand.
The next sequence of checks took the trail in a clockwise northerly loop with various front runners, Old Faithful, Bambi, Pink Flamingo etc, and occasionally even the hares lending a hand in order to keep things moving, after all we were all working up a powerful thirst.
Eventually we crossed and then recrossed the old railway line at Little London on orange sand
and headed east to cross New Road on to Ambersham common and on to white sand.
After thanks to Pancsi, Splasher and his girlfriend for a testing hash there were various nominations for trivial reasons with the hash-it being presented to Pink Flamingo for indulging in bouts of sand removal rather than struggling on with shoes full of the stuff like the rest of us.
We then retired to the garden at the Unicorn in Heyshott for rehydration and a chinwag.