Run	Date	Hare(s)	Description	MapRef	1:50000	1:25000	1:10000	More
971	2021-11-21 11:00	Bambi	Stoughton Forest	SU815125

Winter has arrived all at once it seems. The leaves are finally falling in the woods, close your eyes and it sounds like rain as they make their way through the branches to form leaf drifts that soon remove a carefully laid trail of flour from view. Oh! yes the temperature has plummeted with a clear sky and northerly wind chill.

Accordingly a decent sized group of eager Hashers gathered in the Stoughton Forest car park discovering that the warm clothes that they had donned earlier were not quite keeping the chill at bay. Rubbing it all in, our absent JMs, via social media, sent us their regards from a breakfast table in Amalfi, undoubtedly warmer that us, however Pink Flamingo appeared to be still wearing her cardie, but that may be a British thing.

There were no newbies or visitors as such, although TumbleTot had a black ball of fluff on the end of a lead that turned out to be a newly created CockaPoo, Cara.

We went through the prelimenaries fairly speedily, as there was a lot of jigging around to keep warm and a cacophony of dogs making conversation a trial, "er what did he say?", not that anyone was listening.

Off we went East on the wide gravel track past the locked limbo bar and into the teeth of a wind that took our breath away, like diving into cold water.

We doubled back to the road near Wildham Barn, getting relief from the calm air and sunshine in the meadow. Along the way Bika had an attempt at converting some bemused walkers, "It's an interesting way to run around not knowing where you are" he said, they seemed unconvinced.

From here it was straight up to Coldcroft Copse with Kinky tooting his horn in the distance as others played catchup after having been tempted by a falsie off the path and into the rolling dunes of leaves in the main wood.

There now followed a zigzagy trail through the northern part of Wildham Wood making use of nearly all of the paths there, including a lovely section on the boundary of Hillbarn farmland where the soft leaves were calf deep, the air was full of musty scent and fungi abounded.

From here we moved back towards Blackbush, down into the shady valley below the copse. It was here, while checking the Chilgrove path, that Olive Oyl managed a double ankle twist.

When I arrived on the scene she was lying draped across the path and complaining of throbbing, I was about to offer assistance, like "does it throb worse if I press here?" etc. when Popeye turned up saying "leave this to me!", so I did.

Meanwile, Canman, had run out of porridge power, and not seen a single tinny, so he bailed out, leaving a slightly depleted pack to climb up through the yew groves towards Blackbush House. Not as prolific as on the Kingley Vale side, the groves are nevertheless quite atmospheric, an almost sacred silence, until Kinky's horn, shouts of "On! On!" and the thud of footsteps shatter the peace.

It was now that the moaning started, firstly Pocket Rocket turned into a damp squib and bailed out down the bike path, then Splasher kept asking how long it would be until "The Pub", Bika's Achilles tendon started giving him gyp and Prancer started telling us about his recent medical procedure that meant that he was running bandy legged and could not sit down comfortably.

All in all a sorry pack that was now gazing at their boots as they shuffled through the leaves.

Bambi, who knew that there was more trail yet to be endured, thought it best to call it a day and led the way directly to Greatdean Bottom and the On-In, at which the pace quickened, heads rose, and there was almost a sprint to the chariots, after one hour and twenty minutes of polar hashing.

At the brief circle, a non existent Hash-It was awarded to Olive Oyl, obviously, followed by a tedious debate as to which pub to go to, the nice one where you can't park your car, or the not so nice one where you can.

In the end we went to the Barley Mow, where a meeting of the MG owners club meant that the car park was full of sports cars anyway.

We soldiered it out in the garden discussing whether or not the publican's assertion that hot chocolate was an "evening drink" is valid.

On – On ! Bambi

See: Spiders' attenuated Track ... AND ... photos by Bambi