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Tuesday 24th JanuaryA report from El PresidentéWhipping Stocks, Knutsford – 24.01.12 After last week’s run at the Egerton Arms in Chelford, I was talking to Rob Stephenson in the bar, who told me he was a little worried that there didn’t seem to be any suitable Hash we’d run over the last 12 months, that would be a suitable nominee for his favourite annual Hash Award. He felt that maybe no award would be made in this category at the Hash Oscars night in May. Well, precisely one week later he was feeling a lot happier. Tonight’s trail was laid by Peter Rose, who volunteered for duty some months ago, before he got diagnosed with a bit of a health problem, that has somewhat restricted his running, although matters all now seem to be well in hand. Apparently, this date at the end of January coincided with a couple of significant dates for the Rose family, although now of course, three months after Peter told me what they were, I can’t remember any details. My apologies to Peter if I should have made an announcement before we set off running. Anyway, Peter decided that he’d still carry out his sacred duty to cover the countryside with loo paper, and the Whipping Stocks was his chosen venue, a choice popular with the Hash, with the most expensive pint being under 2 quid, so après Hash chips could be ordered and simply taken out of the kitty. Peter enlisted Sid to be in charge of the Hash on the night in case he wasn’t quite fit enough to run, and Sid then sub contracted John Moorhouse to look after the back. Unfortunately, when Peter was available to lay the route, Sid wasn’t. So blown up maps of the area were produced and circulated to those in need. It’s at this point that I have to apologise to Peter for the second time in two paragraphs. In drawing Peter’s route on a blank OS map of the area, I could have made a better job of graphically showing where Peter intended a 300 yard bit of his trail to go out to a farm building, and then straight back to the previous check using the same mucky track. I drew two parallel lines very close to each other, giving the impression of two parallel rights of way. Inevitably, on the night this was the place where everything went t**s up. Peter decided to walk tonight, but was going to explain the relevant details to the Hash before the off. However, he got delayed leaving home, and had only just got to the pub car park as Sid released the starting gate and off we went, straight on to some seriously mucky countryside. We have had a fair bit of precipitation recently, and the area round the Whipping Stocks is flat, based on clay and doesn’t drain quickly. Anyway, all was well until we got to the straight up and down bit of the trail. Knowing the pack were simply going up this track and turning straight round, and already being close to the rear, I didn’t bother to run up to the farm. The sight of Mr Lever trying to unglue his Nikes from the muck that suddenly appeared all across this farm track produced your scribe’s brake lights, as it seemed pointless to Hack my way through the mire, only to have to Hack back through the muck 60 seconds later. So about 5 of us patiently waited for the torches in front to turn round and come back to us. You know a “ however” is coming don’t you? However, the torches went out one by one, as no about turn was executed. For a few moments, there was no light or noise from the front at all. Then a few glimmering lights appeared at about one o’ clock and were getting fainter. We realised that at least some of the pack were now heading away from the farm up towards Seven Sisters Lane, which had not been Peter’s plan at all. At this moment a bellowing farmer emerged, presumably and not unreasonably enquiring in agricultural language “What are you scantily clad lot of p******s doing ploughing up my land?” Apparently, when it was explained to him what we were at least trying to do, he then grudgingly admitted that maybe the odd footpath post didn’t exist where it should have done! However, whilst this nocturnal interview was being carried out, the 5 of us safely on the right side of the mud bath, decided on a popular military tactic – retreat! Armed with the map, we decided to wander quietly down the rest of the trail. When we came to the next check, and confirmed that the ground did indeed look the same as the map, Ken Craig promptly fell down on crossing a slippy wooden bridge. By supporting himself with his hand in the bottom of the little stream, Ken was able to keep the rest of him dry, but with his head and shoulders off the bridge, wasn’t able to right his ship. In true Hash fashion laughter preceded worry, and in the end Dave, Hilary and I were eventually able to hoist our stranded colleague vertical. Ken’s dog Moll witnessed her master’s predicament with total canine disdain, giving him a look that said “Stupid boy!” So having sorted out our own mini crisis, and having established that we were at least on the trail, it only seemed sensible to try and let the rest of the Hash share our good news. Much loud bellowing followed in a successful attempt to let the pack know where we were. It’s always fascinating to be in front of the Hash at night as you can see this long line of waving and bouncing lights meandering towards you, rather like Christmas fairy lights. It’s really quite eerie. However, normally these lights come at you in a long regular line that recedes away from you. This evening they were spread across a 60 degree arc in front of us, as the pack had probably splintered into two or three groups as they unsuccessfully looked for the two parallel paths shown on the map. Anyway, all were eventually gathered in, but by now it was half past 8, and we’d only completed just over 2 miles of Peter’s 6.62 mile trail. As I wasn’t driving, and did rather fancy getting to the pub for a pint before closing time, a management decision was made. At Ken’s bridge the correct trail went left on a 1 and a quarter mile loop that would bring everyone back to the same place, giving Ken another chance at ending up in the stream. This seems an unattractive option, so the loop was missed out, and off we set on the now truncated trail. Cliff Wyatt then motored past me saying he knew all the footpaths round here, and so was (correctly) totally confident he pretty much knew the route we’d take home and so dragged the pack at considerable speed back towards the pub. There was one further piece of cartographic inconsistency when left was called, when right was right, but otherwise very rapid progress was made, helped by there only being 3 checks in the last mile and a half round by Peover Hall. Our little group of 5 that managed to avoid the confusion early on reformed where the trail set off to Peover Hall, and we all jogged steadily 1 mile straight back to the pub down Stocks Lane. We only just beat the fast runners who’d gone round the 50% longer scenic route. We do now have a real spread of speed on the Hash! Anyway, there was inevitably some discussion about this trail when everyone got back to the cars, and being the Cheshire Hash, when there’s some possibly adverse comment, it isn’t 4 letter words that are muttered, it’s just one 5 letter one – PLANK! Rob Stephenson was now a happy man, as he felt we now had a candidate for the “ Plank Award”, an initially symbolic award to the trail layers who produce a route which has features that should ideally not be repeated each week. There have been some excellent winners, including a trail that produced 5 reports on the Hash website, including 2 from folk that couldn’t even get to the pub to start the route! That same trail benefited from a cloud base lower than the pub car park, leading to a level of visibility meaning a break-up of the pack was almost inevitable, together with further isolated incidents including the inadvertent electrocution of the On Sec. I still find it ironic that the Plank Award was named after a route Roger Turner produced many years ago, that was so memorable it got the Hash to produce the award, but the actual trail itself then failed to win! However, any disappointment Roger felt was relatively short lived, as he has subsequently produced successful award winning trails, the last one culminating in him publicly accepting the plank from a 6 foot 2 inch Hasher dressed in a skirt. After that exhibition of good taste, it has been decided that from now on, the Cheshire Hash Award Ceremony will be restricted to events populated only by Cheshire Hashers. As Kenny Everett regularly said, it’s all done “in the best possible taste”. The link below shows Peter’s planned route, and it’s the loop at the top that got missed off. Tuesday January 10thTonight's trail was set by Sid with the assistance of Ken (If I ran any faster I'd overtake myself)S from the Helter Skelter in Frodsham. We met in the large carpark that abutts Frodsham Station situated behind the pub. An anxious pack milled around waiting for the two hares to appear - which they did at the last minute. After the usual "markers on right except.." the runners departed and headed up the road and as they disappeared into the distance we could see they were heading towards the top of the hil via the Sandstone trail spur. The walkers decided to go that way on a grand old duke of york route. We walked to the top of the hill where there were views of the lights of Runcorn, Widnes and Liverpool. And then we walked down again - this got us back to the car park at about 9 O'clock. We then migrated to the pub to await the pack - i was driver tonight so I went out to let Martin & Hilary into the car at about 23 minutes past. Some of the pack had taken a 'short' cut back along the A56 while the bulk went to the moss to the north of the motorway to run through some pig-muck encrusted trails. They seemed to enjoy it though and soon were ensconsed in the pub where chips were also available. And a road report from El PresidentéHelter Skelter, Frodsham - 10.01.12 Another New Year! In a few months’ time the Cheshire Hash will be 30. So it’s no longer a young adolescent tearaway, but a newly settled down, staid, sensible and sober organisation. Yeah, right! If that was true, we’d all be running a standard 5 and half mile route with 20 plus checks, with no one getting lost, no one short cutting and no whingeing in the pub afterwards, and everyone drinking shandy. As if! Tonight was not one of these “standard” Hashes, and whilst unlikely to attract any award for the setters, was perhaps a tad more memorable than some. Two of our young bucks were in charge, and so enthusiasm reigned, as Sid and Ken took us from Frodsham Railway Station Car Park straight up to the monument on top of Frodsham hill, by the shortest possible publicly legal route. This involved an immediate climb of fractionally under 400 feet in significantly under 2/3 mile. So tonight there was whingeing before the second check! Having blagged an advance copy of the map the previous weekend, I had time to study the trail, and plan an alternative route which involved gaining the required 385 feet in a mile and a half, rather than the suggested two thirds. Note, that’s “alternative route” not “ short cut”. It involved a lot more on road than off, and was about the same distance as Sid and Ken’s creation by the time my bastard version and theirs joined up. In the end I had the very pleasant company of Alison, Kat and Peter Rose, and once on top of Frodsham Hill, there were excellent views of Runcorn in its prime. That’s in the dark, from at least 3 miles away, and with the prevailing wind blowing the exhaust of the chemical works away over Warrington. When our little group got to where the correct and the “alternative” route came together, we thought we could see the Hash torches a couple of hundred yards away to our right, so our slow progress that had been uninhibited by checks looked as though it had been sufficient to gain a couple of checks advantage on the rest. So, buoyed by our athletic success, concentration wavered, a sharp left turn was executed after a swift cartographic consultation, and half a mile later we realised that the one with the map had had a bit of navigational dysfunction. When we should have been down in a wooded valley, where we could now see torches flashing, we were still on high ground. Excellent from a defensive military point of view, but bloody useless from a Hashing one! A more measured look at the map showed the error, and indeed a situation I’ve not encountered before whilst Hashing. We four were at a point on the map where the footpath we were on simply stopped. It’s a dead end footpath. Check it out – grid reference SJ514748. As it turned out, the bit of woodland we were in is now one of these open access areas, where folk can wander about where they want, without worrying about getting off a public right of way. Also, a quick scan of the actual ground showed a wide well-worn path going steeply downhill to where the torches were now rapidly disappearing away to our left. By the time the bottom of the required valley was reached, we were as the old Gilbert O’Sullivan hit said “alone again naturally”. “Nothing new there then!” muttered Peter, who by now was looking for the shortest route home. Now being convinced the pack was in front of us (wrong!), our only compensation was the route looked gently downhill all the way back to Frodsham, whether we followed the trail or took an obvious slight short cut down the main A56. Peter took the direct way home, whilst the remaining triumvirate continued to follow the now mucky trail, until we emerged onto the A56. Watches were consulted, and we decided straight back down the main road was sensible, following a solitary middle aged portly runner who embarrassing simply disappeared into the distance. He’d have given tonight’s trail layers a run for their kitty money. Anyway, we happily wandered into the car park just after 10 past 9, to find only Peter. The pack had not overtaken us, so who on earth was wandering around with torches in Foxhill Woods at night we had no idea. Stupid people, what on earth do they think they’re doing? Eventually and inevitably, Tony Ellis was the first of the pack to arrive at the cars. He’d tumbled precisely where he was when he hit the A56, and as he wasn’t driving tonight, correctly decided the shortest route home was the quickest way to the beer. After him the rest of the pack straggled in. Nobody lost, but there had been one or two hiccoughs along the way. Mr Lever had been assaulted by a low flying bramble, whilst Colin had assaulted the ground, when some slippery uneven terrain had brought him low. There was much discussion* in the pub about a section of the trail that was right next to the westbound carriageway of the M56. This is a bit of countryside that Martin Hack and I decided not to use last March when we did a trail from Frodsham, as although it’s a public right of way, nobody has told the public. It really is a tad overgrown, and distinctly uneven, with dead tree trunks across the route, a situation not helped by the Hash trying to torch their way eastwards whilst being half blinded by headlights on the motorway going west. Quite a few Hashers avoided the M56 bit, by settling for the A56 route. One was Mike Murray. Until he arrived at the main road, he’s felt that so far it had been an excellent trail. He hadn’t really known where he was, but the route had been almost dry, the vast majority of it was steadily downhill, what could be better? However, on reaching the A56, he glanced left saw Helsby High School, which as a teacher Mike knows well, so suddenly from being blissfully lost, he said “I suddenly knew exactly where I ****** was, and I didn’t want to be there!” A glance at his watch convinced him, like my little group that the main road was the only road. What always amazes is me, is that all these stories are poured out in the pub, whilst beer is poured in the other way, yet within moments of folk’s spleens being vented, all their worries disappear. Wonderful stuff Hashing. * For discussion read whingeing Here’s a link to this evening’s extravaganza. Mapometer reckons 6.18 miles, and pressing the “show altitude” button, confirms how virtually all the uphill was at the start. http://gb.mapometer.com/running/route_1680041.html A New YearUnfortunately I have started the New Year in much the same way that I ended 2011 - Not running due to knee - which is vastly improving. I think that spending a 10 day period without driving to work and back has taken a bit of strain off the left knee and has allowed the Ibuprofen to reduce the problem. |
