The morning offered a lovely puffy cloud "The Simpsons" sky and gentle warm southerly breeze as the pack gathered in the sandy quadrant of the crossroads. No new faces, a few apologies, no advice from the hares, no delay and we are off ... no .. hold on! Canman and Buddy are just arriving, tough, we are off.
North east up the nearest slope to the top of the Old Pit workings to find a plethora of checks and falsies woven into the overgrown mounds and ditches. Not only was Cannman able to catch up and offload Buddy to Snake Charmer, who likes having an arm pulled off, but also much to his delight he discovered a mound of discarded cans. A long down hill falsie towards Hoyle Hangar sapped most of Kermit's early energy as Steve, Bika and Pancsi took us north and down on to the deep sandy tracks of Ambersham Common.
Then inevitably a climb north west back up to the top of the ridge during which Bika started the first of a couple of moaning sessions about how he had passed as many as six blobs before finding a falsie, it's lucky that we don't have any rules, not even a "no moaning" rule or even a "no moaning about moaning" rule or even a "no moaning about no rules" rule.
Soon we were dashing down the footpath and across New Road and into the trees at the north of Heyshott Common to emerge at the main cross paths right in the middle. Here, about half of the pack were lured east under the power lines towards the New Road car park while the rest found the good trail south and out into the blooming heather.
It looks pretty, all shades of purple, but it doesn't half scratch the shins as you scamper along the narrow paths as part of a yellow snake making it's way to the next check. Then quite abruptly we emerged on to Mill Lane and could see the chariots to our left, we thought it was all over but it wasn't, it was straight across and on the path to Midland's Copse until we hit Hoyle Lane, it was all over now.
The Gnu had ventured down the lane and her broad smile greeted us just past the On-Inn after just fifty five minutes of sand between the toes hashing.
Circled up we thanked the hares for a "spot on" hash, mentioned both Bika and Kermit for whinging (like father, like..), also Steve's emerging habit of standing on falsies (a touch of Mussolini -itis), and then presented the Hash-It to Soapbox because for the first time in ten years he was first to reach a check. Our celebration of this continued at The Greyhound on Cocking Causeway.