Snow a few days prior, followed by clear frosty nights, meant that without a four
by four the original venue was not safely reachable.
The Hares managed to find a tiny spot below Older Hill into which we shoehorned our
chariots and amazingly they had thought up a new trail almost overnight.
The dog to Hasher ratio was about five to one, not enough to break out the
sled and get some mushing practise in.
A suitably short and succinct soliloquy was delivered by our JM before the hares
for some reason felt that they had to apologise for a "bodged hash".
We were on our way before the just sub zero temperature had a chance to induce
a rash of goose pimples, heading North towards Pound Common and immediately
having difficulty spotting the flour against the slightly brighter snow.
For a little while we played catch up to Dag and Snake Charmer but when they ran
out of trail our meagre numbers were dispersed on the heath.
Thank God for Kinky's horn, I thought, as he found the true trail East and hashers
clambered out of the scenery in all directions, drawn by Kinky's expertly blown
instrument, much to his satisfaction.
A few easy checks then took us in a clockwise loop, ending up heading West with
the sun on our left cheeks and heading home.
Without a regroup or fish hook a line of hashers discovered the On-In all too soon,
milling around eager to get off to the pub.
The Hash-It was dished out in record time to Dag for holding classes en-route titled
"How to track Hares using footprints on snow".
We called in at The Greyhound on the way back where we found tables inside
to scoff crisps and chug ale.
On ? On ! Bambi
See: track
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