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Est 1983 - ON PRES: Robin Low

Run   Date        Hare(s)DescriptionMapRef1:500001:250001:10000 More
8062015-01-18Popeye and Olive OylClanfield - The Hampshire Hog SU715174

Our ancestors endured freezing conditions in order to survive each winter. Nowadays most of us have warm houses with full larders. So why would any sane person choose to go outside and search for little blobs of flour on a day when sitting inside a fridge would have been a warmer option?.

Even less sane are those that distribute the little blobs. Nevertheless such people do exist. A respectable number gathered in the pub car park, called together by our new Joint Masters, and listened to the usual tripe from the hares before moving swiftly out before the sound of knocking knees became deafening.

We moved quite swiftly at first, hoping that the activity would prove warming, and found the trail south on the road over the A3 and then east on the rolling soil and flint path to Chalton Down with Pancsi and Old Faithful at the fore. A regroup at the stile on the edge of QECP enabled some to catch up while others just stood and steamed.

Now we found ourselves on QECP Parkrun territory, and Bika, being one the honchos headed in the usual direction towards the finish line only to find a false trail mark, while Sinbad found good flour as we followed him round half of the short lap (of the Parkrun).

Then with sleet and small diamonds of ice grazing our temples we followed Pancsi, OF and BloodyL north across Staunton Way and down to Gravelhill Bottom.

Here a whole bunch of us failed to appreciate a subtle back check, thus overrunning a falsie to rejoin the rest as they headed south on the SDW all the way to the smooth tarmac bit on a hairpin.

We spent a long time here, until Pancsi and Snake Charmer didn't return from an up hill goat track north to come out half way up Hangar's Way. Again we had trouble finding anywhere to go until Thom found his way up an even steeper pitch via hand holds in tree roots and grazed knees continuing north into the Laser Tag play area, past the mock field gun and to a regroup under the watch tower.

The rising roar of traffic on the A3 ahead of us served to provide some orientation, and the more savvy deduced that we must be heading for the underpass just beyond the QECP visitor centre.

And so it proved, not before the adrenaline rush from the slippery descent on the Cresta Run of a trail down to the centre car park.

The hares must have been running out of flour here because only minuscule amounts, even less than “Frugal McDougall” uses, were evident, although they were not really needed as we headed home, some down the cycle lane and some on the bridleway to reach the On-Inn after one hour and twenty nine minutes of pure enjoyment.

At the circle there was a little more "structure" to the proceedings, our JMs had a script, starting with a joke and then a survey on the most obvious arrangement of the letters P,S,E,N and I to form a word (muffled titters all round as Dr Blood hesitated to give an opinion).

Then followed an orderly presentation of miscreants, Splasher, Bika, Thom, Bambi, and Olive Oyl all as guilty as hell, but the Shoutometer voted Splasher as most guilty, for believing a hare.

Then to the hot hearth of the Hog to quaff warm ale strong cider and graze on Kinky's nuts.

(Oh! yes thank you those hares!)

On On! Bambi.

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