St Patrick had a word with the meteorological powers, resulting in bright sunny crisp
morning sandwiched between periods of unremitting rain and gale. A yellow alert for high
wind had been declared for the whole area by other powers, and I am assuming that for
our own health and safety the entrance to the chariot park had been securely locked shut.
Would it be cynical to suggest that the locked barrier was more for the Forestry Commission's
insurers' health and safety? In any event, a few with ground clearance and a ready supply
of pushers managed to circumvent the obstacle while the rest slotted in to the roadside
perimeter.
Meanwhile a lorry driver on the M27 had managed to cause what Highways England
described as "A single vehicle collision", closing the motorway at Fareham
and stranding a load of Hashers to the West. Is that HE code for "Fell asleep at
the wheel and drove into a barrier"?
Not the best of starts to a Hash then, as a diminished yet sizeable pack circled up to
be welcomed by our JMs. The customary bafflement of visitors as to the meaning of
our Hash marking followed, I'm no historian, perhaps a more senior member of our
association could enlighten us as to how we ended up with the markings that we use?.
Obviously, notwithstanding the M27 disaster, there were too many visitors from Winchester,
Hursley, HOV etc. for me to list here, even if I knew all their handles. Someone, possibly
having his own mid life crisis, thought that even though he considered himself "old"
he felt that he had lowered the average age of the usual Chi Hash Pack. Surprisingly the only
green showing was a little bit on Vixen and a whole load on Dancer who was 110% Leprechaun
with hat and beard to boot.
An indication from the Hares meant that we exited the car park heading North West with
the warming sun at our backs and square miles of woodland ahead. In general, more Hashers
means faster progress, thus we were soon heading North, a downhill charge on an unyielding
surface following Herr Flick to a regroup at The Droke.
I would have checked if the car park there was also locked, however I became involved in a
discussion (again) about why use a circle mark for a Regroup? and forgot the gate.
At The Droke, as everyone knows the only way out is up, which turned out to be the Up that
is over the road and North besides Reuben's Barn. Oh! is it Up, it is very very Up, it is. A fish
hook half way up proved superfluous because just above the tree line proceedings ground
to a halt. Nothing further up, one false to the east, and then a very sketchy trail to the West
over private land to seemingly end up against a string of Barbie Wire amongst the splendid
yellow budding flowers of Gorse. Apparently edible.
I had chomped my way through a few (pleasantly slightly bitter, like Rocket? at this time of
the year) before Kinky, sans bugle, was calling in the East at a fish hook.
I started to get the names of those caught, my partial list reads, Dr Blood, Bambi, Kinky,
Dick Head (Who said head? etc.), Koala, Been Before, Beryl's Bit, The Ref, and Prancer.
North and Up yet again on Oxen Down ensued, following Herr Flick who was turning out
to be rather an FRB.
Before reaching the bridleway at the top the only bonafide track was false so Hashers
bailed out to East and West checking under a bare canopy, weaving through the widely
spaced trunks on leaf litter, mossy stumps and those brambles that form snares to trip
the unwary.
One of the joys of Hashing is trying to catch up with the pack after getting well off the true
trail, a pleasure that was now enjoyed by a small group that had chosen to go West as the
main pack blundered on to the trail East to the ridge above Deep Coombe.
Beaters frequently drive pheasant up this deep little valley in front massed twelve-bores,
but not today thankfully. On the subject of bores did you ever talk to Pancsi about his
extensive collection of antique metric and imperial radiator valves?
A new FRB suddenly arrived with us in the form of Sweaty Betty presumably taking out
the frustrations of the A27 on her body by sprinting up and down the slope looking for a trail.
Cruella and Bambi took a more leasurly pace North up the ridge sure that after umpteen
blobs they were on, only to be disabused of that certainty by the dreaded tripple.
Thus we descended to the Southern end of the coombe and then jogged around the flooded
ruts of the lane back to re-cross the road at the Eastern edge of The Droke. Remember,
everything is up from The Droke, and the Hares showed no mercy by taking the trail off
piste more or less straight up Droke Hanger.
Your regular Chi pack would probably have mutineered at this point, but with the likes
of Sweaty Betty, Herr Flick and Dick Head providing encouragement from above they
managed to drag their weary bodies to the top wondering how far it was to the nearest de-fib.
What the visitors did not now realise was that the Chariots were within easy reach over easy
ground just to the South. Thus local knowledge meant that the pack reached the On-In shortly
after recovering from the climb and one hour and twentythree minutes after having set out.
Cruella kindly took on the arduous task of thanking the Hares and administering down downs
with the magnificent view of Halnaker windmill and Chichester harbour beyond as a backdrop.
Some well chosen Hashers necked ale accompanied by our attempts to sing the "Here's to"
song in 50 part harmony. We don't do this usually so there were many variations of the words to be
heard also.
The Apres-Hash has been the subject of some discussion, and not to be explored here. Some
decamped to The Partridge in Singleton where the sunny garden looked inviting but was cooler
than the lager.
On On ! Bambi
on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on-on | |||||||||||||||||||||||||