Run	Date	Hare(s)	Description	MapRef	1:50000	1:25000	1:10000	More
984	2022-05-22 11:00	Bambi	West Harting Down - Compton	SU773169

"What a lovely day" each hasher exclaimed as they arrived at the access road to the woods of West Harting Down, everything around seeming impossibly green, at first I thought it must be the tint of the sunglasses, but no, it was green, everywhere, a real chlorophyll fest. Snake Charmer's face even looked a little green, however the cause of this was down to over indulgence the night before.

No amount of spin can gloss over the fact that not many Hashers turned up, and the less said about their physical condition the better. Spiderman could not take part in the active experience, he had both feet bound up in what looked like bandages after having had some surgery, probably to remove the extra two toes we all suspected he had.

A short briefing from yours truly and the pack was on it's way norff up the access road, the only way to go, and from the outset the pace was pedestrian, clearly a long time on our feet beckoned.

The area that we entered is now "Open Access", so keeping to rights of way is optional, and the hare made use of this almost immediately by diving down into Hudson's Copse from the first check, although Bika more or less found this trail by himself, it took a few others to latch on to it properly.

The spongy forgiving forest floor here partly alleviated the effort of the climb, then to emerge into brightness and fragrant wild garlic below Booker Down was magic.

All of the falsies were tried before Popeye lead us, continuing norff towards Round Copse, but did not spot the steep up hill, off piste climb to join the disused bike trail in the shadow of the tall beech and silver birch on the slope of the copse. Bika and Prancer however did spot it and got well ahead on the climb, only to find a fish ook near the top that also caught Splasher.

Thus the pack was back together as we sampled the bright sunshine once more, furver norff on the shale access road. Although there were lots of ways to go from here, the true trail kept norff back in the shade and now with a growing humidity all the way almost to the Cross Dyke. Here during a short pause we checked for tics (and found some) and mused on what HHH could stand for, in the case of Snake Charmer the consensus was Hungover, Hormonal and Hot, you can interpret the last adjective as you wish.

We now turned souff west and ran along the crest of West Harting down where the trees are felled allowing a grand view of the Solent and the IOW, there is always a wind here, it would be a great place for a few turbines, no trees have been replanted, no nimbees near.

Bika was on a mission through here, guessing the correct way five times is a row, I'm wondering if the dog Aragorn isn't sniffing out that naff after shave that someone gave me for Christmas.

Even Bika could not find the next switch of direction, souff, down through the tall tall pines and low low yews on the precipitous descent into the valley below Harehurst Wood, many hare arrows to show a safe way down, remembering the runaway slope on 982.

So now we have been out for around an hour, the moaning started, "are we nearly there yet" (Splasher), "I need some hair of the dog" (Snake Charmer), "my legs hurt" (Popeye), "Which pub are we going to? will it be open by the time we get back?" (Bika), only Dr Blood and Prancer smiled and said nothing.

The news that we still had a fair way to go was not greeted with enthusiasm shall we say.

What lay ahead was easy going back through Booker Down Rough with a short pause at an interesting juvenile creation, a small enclosure where a collection of animal skulls was on display, looked like a great "secret" place to hang out for teenagers with some tinnies.

Then back down the access road, now above Hudsons Copse to reach the chariots after one hour and twenty eight minutes of dawdling hashing.

We gave the Hash-It to Snake Charmer to add to the hangover, and then drove down the road to The Victoria Inn at West Marden, where service was swift, the garden sunny and warm, and the dogs ready to snap up even the smallest crumb that might descent from the picnic table.

On – On ! Bambi

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