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Tuesday 7th September 2010The nights are starting to draw in now.. but we had a bright warmish evening which belied the thunder/lightning tipping rain that was seen around Warrington and further north. Ken was as good as his email in that he had sent out in that in the interest of getting round to the pub again he was not going to repeat the contents of the mail as no-one would listen so .. we started off promptly at 7:45. Another good sized pack was there at the Blue Cap to make the initial foray into the woods and then out again. We toyed with firlds , footpaths, the Whitecross way (maybe) and back into some woods again. Here is where the darkness fell quickest. especially as we went over areas that had been recently cleared. It is surprising how slippery old pine needles could be when laid over the top of wet branches/twigs. There were plenty of roots to catch the unwary and enough puddles that Martin H could run through and share with the rest of the pack. Tuesday 31st August 2010Allan has provided the reoprt on Rod & his trail. Red Lion, Winsford - 31.08.10 And spectacular scenery (or lack of it) was what exercised a number of Hash minds this glorious Tuesday evening in Winsford. Last week’s tour of urban Chester finished with a trundle down Millionaire’s Row near the Racecourse, which has properties on a par with Legh Road in Knutsford (where incidentally, there is a new speculative built property on offer for 50 quid less than £3 million, with two more palaces under construction.) This evening’s route through Winsford included a visit to old Council housing estates developed in the 1960s for Liverpool overspill people. The contrast in affordable housing was duly noted! 3 million quid in this part of Winsford would buy all these estates. I find it a little strange that Cheshire has this national reputation founded on the phrase “the Cheshire set”. Now there are some very posh and hugely expensive areas of the County, but Cheshire also contains Ellesmere Port, Runcorn, Winsford and Northwich none of which is a likely venue for the new home Wayne Rooney may be in need of, if the current scurrilous allegations in one of the Sunday tabloids is even half correct. Maybe he could join us on a Tuesday night. It would at least help him run off some of his surplus testosterone, without the likelihood of getting caught out by the press. As Shakespeare once said, “Tabloids, where is thy sting.” Winsford also has a large industrial estate, where co-hare Rod Fishburne has worked for the last 20 years. So, we couldn’t really pass up the opportunity not to share the glories of Roads One, Two and Three with the rest of you. Mr Lever wanted to know how many Council Committee meetings it took to come up with such original road names for the Industrial Estate. As if I’m likely to know, or indeed care! Whilst working our way through some of the less “desirable” areas of Winsford, we acquired some local teenagers on bikes, who decided it would be great fun to ride along with this crowd of mainly old farts. They had fun for awhile, but then an overgrown stile immediately followed by a solid electric fence, scuppered their grandiose plans to escort us back to the pub. Sparks were seen sprouting from the handlebars of a bike, as one of these teenagers failed in his attempt to manhandle his steed over said electric fence. More testosterone needed young man! Young Stewart, who usually bulls his way round on a Tuesday night, was having a gentle walk for a change. Apparently, he’d just finished some enormously masochistic sporting endurance event, which involved dragging his frame around in excess of 250 miles of the Lake District over 5 days, with only 3 hours sleep, without use of any external assistance. Walking, running and kayaking being the approved methods of transport. Where can you go kayaking at 3 o’ clock in the morning? Stewart said it was thoroughly enjoyable, but admitted his body did now need a little bit of TLC. Alison helpfully pointed out that Stewart couldn’t sleep on his favoured left shoulder at the moment, by gently poking said shoulder. Stewart screamed! Still, he had sufficient movement in his remaining upper limbs to administer the recommended Tuesday night dose of anaesthetic for pain and suffering. I don’t know what tonight’s brew was, but nobody seemed to complain, and for once the pub continued to produce chips until even the Hash couldn’t consume anymore. And we made a profit. Nobody tell Heather! The link below shows the trail, which was as near as makes no difference 6 miles. A dry one, and all back in the car park by 21.05. Lovely! Tuesday 24th August 2010I was determined not to use a torch tonight and I managed it. But this was partly due to the location. Even though there were many rhinos encountered on our travel - the savannahs of Deeside is not their normal habitat. Ian B and John S combined to set us a trail from the middle of Chester. As fortune had it the rain had gone away well before we got under way. As we were towards the west of our range (but not the furthest) the Bollington/Marple/Macclesfield contingent was mostly missing but of the order of 35+ hashers turned out with the welcome return of Sid from his southern soujourn. After an explanation of where the pub was - and what the price of said beer was and that chips were intended - and hectoring from Tony E- we got off from in front of the county court. within three checks we had our first taste of the city walls - something that was going to recur frequently through the night - a bit like the Rhinos. About the Rhinos - there are many of them - scattered around Chester - made of Fibreglass - all patterned differently and all destined to be auctioned to benefit the black rhino preservation scheme via Chester Zoo - I think. After changing it was off to the pub - The Falcon - though I was lewd astray by a pub sign with a picture of a bird of prey which turned out to be the Golden Eagle. The Falcon - a Sam Smith pub in a very old building - had put us into the upstairs room where we were plied with Best bitter and best chips till we staggered off home. An excellent trail and pub Tuesday 17th August 2010After the rain of the day the weather cleared to give a fine evening for the trail set by Brian (who had been under anaesthetic earlier in the day) and Chris (who had achilles problems) conducting the trail. Chris took to two wheels to cover the fromt, Brian did the back during the trickier start through a small urban park and I trundled along with a map just in case as a sweeper. This was because it was area I know well. I may not have known where the trail was going but I knew every way back to the Grappenhall club - the site of the trail The turnout was in the region of 50 - good considering some were off on holiday. As said earlier the first part was out of the back of the club car park into a linear park which allowed all but linear running. Eventually the trail sorted itself out and we trottesd through to the streets and then to a small footpath that led to the Bridgewater canal. After a brief flirt with the water - there was ajunior fishing competition on) we headed through to one of the new woodlands being established. The trees are fairly well covered with sloes this year. Another brief road trip was followed by a long-ish footpath that lead through farmlands and down towards the Dingle. Further sallies brought us back by Grappenhall Cricket club and then on home. An enjoyable trail but the sad bit was that when we were in the woods we were reminded about how soon we will need to carry torches again. A small missive from David L.Hi Guys, THANK YOU for the hash tonight. Out of the chaos came order and it worked just fine.What can I say ....... two crocked Hares, one on a bike and the other a little whoozie after an operation, and a hastily recruited Max who didn't know the route. It was an amazing performance. At the beginning the signs were not encouraging but it sorted itself out and we all had a lot of fun. It was a very nice run through pleasant countryside and somehow everyone stayed fairly much together. There were some interesting "on ons" that turned out to be "offs" but that all helped it to keep tight. Jennifer enjoyed the walk too. We have both returned home happy - THANK YOU, ALL Hope to see y'all next week and hope the walking wounded soon recover. Tuesday 10th August 2010Ace Reporter El Presidenté gives an inside view for the hash at the Railway, Mobberley. I confess to approaching this weeks trail with a degree of trepidation. Peter Rose was the course designer, and had asked me to come round the trail with him on Monday afternoon, so I could assist on the night. Being a helpful sort of guy, I agreed. When we set off from the pub on our last minute recce mission, Peter said he’ d asked Brian Burgess to help as well, but Brian was otherwise occupied, so he would have to make do with a map on the night. Now the last time a Hash had such an experienced trail laying triumvirate in charge, disaster struck at the second check. Effectively from then on there were three Hashes all struggling to find their way back to the pub. And then there was the matter of Kevan’s missing car keys! (See the Report on the Salt Barge trail for the 30th September 2003.) Bearing in mind that Peter and Brian were two thirds of that unfortunate trio, I comforted myself with the old cliché about lightning never striking twice. However, the early portents weren’t too encouraging. At about the 4th check, we needed to locate a footpath that clearly isn’t one regularly used by the local populace, or indeed any populace. I could understand why Peter had wanted help, as although he’d actually littered the countryside with the necessary paper, he was still struggling a little to actually find this path. Oddly, having battled through waist high stingers and low flying brambles, the path eventually led to a virtually brand new footbridge. I suspect this area is looked after by Manchester Airport, who have been very good at ensuring what footpaths they didn’t concrete 10 over years ago, are at least kept just about available to idiots who really feel they have to exercise their freedom to get bitten and stung. And so down to the airport, where Peter had laid a route featuring a neat little loop immediately in front of the old runway. Further on we came to three fields of waist high barley. Only it wasn’t even ankle high! “It wasn’t like that when I laid it!” protested Peter. Oh, how often have we heard that! This reaping of the crop had of course also reaped Peter’s loo roll markers! The height of the remaining stubble was measured in miniscule Napoleonic rather than Imperial units, and really didn’t give much opportunity for replacement tissue tying, even if one of us had actually remembered to bring some. Peter had some chalk, but stubble chalking is not an activity with a successful long term future. Anyway, we padded round, got caught in a shower just before the end, that Peter said was welcome. Querying this crazy statement, Peter pointed out that Bob the Dog who had accompanied us on our recce, had spent much of the time happily rolling around on his back in the non stubbly fields, potentially acquiring a coating of agricultural product, that Mrs Rose would not appreciate being carried into the car! So a cleansing burst of what we’re not allowed to spray was just what the dog had ordered. When we got to the pub on Tuesday night, Peter was anxious the pack got away promptly. The last time we run from here, the usual social chit chat and mucking about, led to our normal dilatory start, which meant a dozen or so Hashers got trapped behind the level crossing barriers, whilst the giggling Hashers who had just beaten th e train galloped away into the distance. So, for the second time in the last 3 weeks, we had a prompt start, which is unheard of on the Cheshire Hash. At the 4th check, there was the expected confusion finding the right nettles to get stung by as we struggled to the new footbridge. Near the runway, Brian who was running near the front produced a couple of checks that Peter didn’t know about. Still, it slows the fast runners down, and they weren’t going to know the checks were mythical. About this time I heard someone say Rob Stephenson had decided to move some markers from the right of our route to the left. Rob’s on holiday for the next couple of weeks, so I suspect he’s a bit demob happy. Still, I thought, shame to waste a marker on the left. So having completed Peter’s little loop, I’m afraid I made a unilateral decision to take us round it again, based on Rob’s left hand marker. When the “On back!!” cry was emitted, nearly all the Hash were happily, and in fact correctly, heading back down the track they had run up 5 or 6 minutes earlier. It is at such moments that this trail layer gets maximum satisfaction for his efforts. You can see from the body language that those being called back really don’t want to do so. They’re sure they’re right, they can’t think where else could be correct, and there is that few moments hesitation where their shoulders slump, as they weigh up the benefits of ignoring the “On back”, with the potential pitfalls of “ Where the hell is the pub?” if they take a chance and don’t come back and end up on their own. The only person who definitely didn’ t come back, was Peter the trail layer, who said quietly, “This isn’t anything to do with me” and padded steadily back down the correct route to wait at the next check, to see if he could rescue the pack, should his foolhardy apprentice not succeed in steering the Hash round an unnecessary loop. As we went downhill towards the River Bollin for the second time a much larger group went straight on towards the water than had done 5 minutes earlier. I heard later than one of two of them felt we were now going to go through the tunnel underneath the second runway. Wrong! Mr Hack, who has laid a few trails with me, was having none of this watery nonsense and blaspheming me mightily set off uphill for the second time past the tall stanchion carrying one of the runways lights. Right! Or in this case, left. And so round the merry go round we went and back down to a patiently waiting Peter Rose, who then guided the pack towards the paperless wasteland of the barley fields. Despite there being no markers, and Peter and I jostling for position as tail gunner, progress was swift, with “On On ” calls relating to extinct loo roll being happily spread about with abandon. No problems with the barley then. Paul Jackson, who has seemingly got great relief from the half a ton of ice that got strapped to his poorly ankle last week, was galloping around as normal. What wasn’t normal was I suddenly found him at top speed heading straight back past me. He’d been first at a stile and decided that the check marks left on it were telling him to check back where he’d come from. Perhaps the twice round the loop trick was making him think there was further deviousness to come. Not this time, but Paul, it’s a great idea! As we were coming towards the railway for the final time, I was running just in front of Derek Clark through the edge of a wheat field. I said to Derek, “When I was young, wheat seemed to be much taller than it is today.” Derek replied, “I think you’ll find that it’s you that were shorter when you were a boy!” On relaying this little anecdote in the pub, John Seymour with a serious straight face told me, “Oh yes, wheat is grown much shorter these days, it saves lots of energy.” Knowing John, who has an enormous capacity for producing weird facts, this will be completely true. If I remember, I’ ll find out from him how short wheat saves energy, and spread the knowledge the next time I hash through a field of miniature wheat. I’ll bet you can’t wait .Anyway, we were all safely gathered in before 10 past 9, and the pub was flooded by 59 ticks, and the remnants of the Railway’s bowling team who had been busily engaged in mortal combat with the Jolly Thresher as we set off running. There was a slight hiccough with the finances when Mr Hack, who was driving tonight, presented me with a five pound note and a handful of copper, and muttered something about the kitty. Fortunately, he was giving me his contribution to the kitty, and not as I first thought the balance of the kitty, as someone had just ordered another 20 pints, and even at the Railways prices, 5 quid isn’t going anywhere near paying for 20 pints. And finally to the A & E ward. For the reader who has been following the saga of Matthew, Victoria and torn bits of the human body, the latest update is that Matthew has actually broken a little toe. So no amount of ice is going to make that right in a week. Quite how the digit got fractured has not been revealed. This evening, he pedalled up from his home in Lower Peover, and it is his intention to make guest appearances as a walker until running becomes a practical proposition again. Victoria remains sympathetic! Matthew has been a tad tardy in seeking medical advice for this little problem, which may be a slight surprise bearing in mind he’s married to a GP. Anyway, we all wish him well. Even Victoria! P.S. Stewart has just returned with Alison from holiday in South West France, where he has apparently been participating in the local sporting activities, to keep his body toned for a 5 day sporting marathon he’s due to compete in. He’s been swimming, cycling and bull fighting! Tuesday 3rd August 2010Tonights hash was provided by me and Allan kindly covered the back for me. He also wrote the following report :- Mill House, Houghton Green, Warrington - 03.08.10And so another July comes to an end, another Tour de France is filed away, and the most mountainous summer of Cheshire Hashing also appears to be on its way to being a soon to be forgotten memory. After three consecutive weeks of scaling the heights of the Col de Cat and Fiddle and Mount Macclesfield Forest, this evening our Webmeister returned us to the prairies of the Unitary Borough of Warrington. We’ve not run from the Mill House in the suburb of Houghton Green before, and indeed the writer had never been on any of this trail before, so maybe this was a completely virgin Cheshire Hash trail. Nice! At 19.44 we were all safely gathered in the pub car park, lacking only one thing. Max the trail layer! There’s one bonus with being in charge, and that’s knowing the packs not going to go without you. At 19.45 Max arrived, and as he’d laid this masterpiece all on his own, I volunteered to look after the back. Over the previous weekend he’d e mailed a copy of his route for Higgo and me to peruse, so we had a rough idea of where we were going. Well, actually not! Early on after the first crossing of the M62, I’d just made sure Clive’ s wife Sarah was going to be safely looked after by Higgo, so was struggling to maintain my position as tail gunner, when Peter Rose and Brian Glover went straight on, when everyone else turned left. Now, Higgo had looked at the map in detail before we started, and had commented that the early part of Max’s route didn’t appear to offer any obvious shortcuts, and yet here were Brian and Peter presumably happily engaged in the noble art of cheating. At that moment it didn’t occur to me that Brian is a native of Warrington, and probably knew precisely where he was and what he was doing. Max -This was new to Brian as well. I suggested the short cut. Anyway, having offered to look after the back, I thought I’d better do that, so left Brian and Peter to look after themselves. Within a few hundred yards I came upon a stationary Matthew Coates. Now Matthew is rarely that, and it turned out he’d damaged his foot, and that he’d actually been battling this dodgy joint for a week or three. Victoria is apparently not very sympathetic! Matthew said he’d be fine (broken Hashers always say this), so I offered him a spare map, and then the two of us discovered we couldn’t work out where we were! Whichever way we turned the bloody map it wouldn’t fit the ground we were looking at. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out” said Matthew, “You carry on.” So in true comradely Hash tradition I left him to it. Guiltily I glanced back after a few hundred yards, to see Matthew was clearly mobile again, albeit clearly stuck in 3rd gear. A further few hundred yards, and we came upon a sight I’d been eagerly anticipating. This is a small reservoir right by junction 21A of the M6, where the OS map quite clearly shows a public footpath going straight through it! Of course, the reservoir was only half full, so we could actually follow the suggested route, which in the depths of winter, would clearly be…….. what shall I call it? Impractical? I wonder if someone ought to point out to the Ordnance Survey the potential problem. I mean you know how concerned us Hashers are about Elf and Safety? After a final crossing of the motorway, Max led us to a muster on the edge of the housing estates of Houghton Green and Cinnamon Brow. (Who thinks up these names?) Now like the estates near IKEA to the north of the town centre, these urban dormitories are quite attractive. I think they were built in the 70s and 80s, when lots of money was poured into Warrington, after its old engineering businesses were Thatchered. The Architects included loads of metalled paths and tracks that are exclusively for pedestrians. Time has allowed the foliage to grow, and now you can occasionally run for three or four hundred yards and not be aware you’re in an urban area. You can even get to a check, where the trail layer says “ON ON sharp left!” and you look at the map he provided and realise there’s no sharp left anywhere on his trail! On questioning Max at the next check, he confessed that he’d sent Higgo and me his original planned route. What we were actually running was the .02.01 version! And a final twist to the trail came 500 yards from the pub, where to Max’s enormous delight, the entire pack missed the two large arrows he’d drawn on a footbridge designed to take them left and home. He cordially invited me to take a deep breath and verbally request the miscreants all return from straight on. He’s a kind man is Max, actually asking me to have a mighty bellow at my fellow Hashers. As someone said in the car park afterwards, “Nobody gets lost on Allan’s trails!” Tonight was Eleanor’s 500th run. She becomes the 19th Cheshire Hasher to achieve this milestone, and her ex brother in law is still the only Hasher to have run that often, and then stop. Eleanor reckons its taken her 17 years to get to 500, but as she works full time, and socialises double time that’s hardly surprising. She’s not run much this year because Tuesday night has also become cycling night. So instead of padding quietly round 6 miles of running, she’s been spinning the pedals for 30 to 50 miles on Tuesdays. I suspect the dark nights might put the spoke into this pedalling. On checking Hash records, I find that Eleanor has actually taken almost precisely 18 years to get to 500. So she can look forward to her next Hash memento for 1,000 runs on the 18th August 2028. I’ll be 83! One of tonight’s two new Hashers is apparently Eleanor’s Finance Director. Maybe his annual performance review is due. On getting into the pub, it turned out Tuesday night is quiz night. Fortunately, the Mill House is only slightly smaller than the B & Q warehouse just up the road, so we trouped into the enormous second bar, reserved for us punters not capable of keeping up with the intellectual rigour of a pub quiz. Further enquiries in the bar about this evening’s route map revealed that not only had Max introduced a sharp left turn into his revised version, but he’d also introduced a brand new loop early on in the piece. That was where Brian (he of the local knowledge) Glover and Peter Rose had gone straight on, whilst us poor ignorant saps went left. This also explained why neither Matthew or I could work out where we were on the route when he came to a halt, because we weren’t actually on the route. Despite these minor hiccoughs with the planning, the trail was excellent. A nice mix of country and leafy urban, coupled with cheap beer. Nobody tell Heather we made a few quid despite funds being spent on crisps AGAIN! NO CRISPS! Whilst happily supping away in the bar, I noticed Paul Jackson with his ankle on a pub stool which was seemingly encased in a bright orange and leaking Sainsburys plastic bag. It turns out he’s like young Mr Coates and is trying to run through an ankle injury. Someone had been behind the bar and managed to find half a ton of ice, which Paul duly applied to the troublesome joint. When we all gathered up to go home, said bag was removed, and a couple of melting ice blocks were removed from the plastic, and used for purposes they were not originally designed for. I wrote a couple of weeks ago saying some of us more mature male Hashers occasionally demonstrate a mental age of 16. I was being optimistic. 12 would be a more accurate guess! And finally to the three Hashers who wanted to know what I had done that required me to spend considerable time on my knees with Faye and Julia in the pub, I’m not going to tell you!! Tuesday 27th July 2010Allan J provided another narrative - Sitting Comfortably - then he will begin. Stanley Arms, Macclesfield Forest – 27.07.10It’s now over 12 years since I had to finish being an Independent Financial Adviser, and so had to stop trying to get other people to put their money where my mouth was. At that time Martin Hack was still working for the dark side of the advice industry by flogging the products of just one provider. He used to call and try and exercise his charms on me for time to time, and you won’t be surprised to know that often alcohol was used a less than subtle persuader. Indeed, on one rather memorable occasion he, me and the now retired from Hashing Chris Newman, went to lunch in the middle of Manchester one Friday in high summer. Via a Lebanese restaurant and a couple of dubious Hyde’s pubs (sorry Adam), we eventually ended up in the Legh Arms in Knutsford about tea time. When our bodies finally registered full on the alcohol scale at 21.30 at night , Martin and Chris then had the prospect of getting home to Antrobus and Sandiway respectively. Cash now being in short supply, a taxi wasn’t possible, so they struggled home with me, where Martin rang his wife Lydsey to ask her to be kind enough to mount a recovery mission. So what’s the point of this story from Ancient History? Well, Martin me and alcohol are not always a good combination. A few years ago I decided to moderate my intake, which is sensible and economical. However, you know how it is if you’ve struggled up and down the mountains of Macclesfield, being half blown over by Ken Sutor’s bow wave, as he hurtles by you for the sixth time, you get to fancying a beer or two in the pub after the torture has finished. Tonight, Martin wasn’t driving. He’s always been a huge servant of the Hash by regularly sorting out the second round, and settling up with the landlord at the end of an evening so the rest of us can all happily go home. But now comes the “However.” However, when he’s not driving, Martin feels it’s best to make sure that everyone has PLENTY to drink. So the kitty gets spent on beer, whereas nights when he’s driving he often bombards us all with crisps. NO crisps!! Tonight after the second round had finally been distributed, I found myself looking at 5 pristine pints sitting on the table in front of me. “Don’t worry!” says Martin, as he dumped a sixth one in front of me, “I’ll be back to help sort that lot out!” He was, and in my enthusiasm to assist, my current economical approach to alcohol consumption got swamped. When you’re not used to a few quick bevies, and you slip back to the bad old ways, the effect of a large injection of booze on the system, or at least my system, is fairly dramatic. As just one example of what can happen, at a late stage of this evening’s proceedings, I remembered I wanted to give Stewart a pen drive that contained the up to date Hash records, so he could do a back up. The pen drive was in the Hash bag, which Heather had borrowed for purposes I can’t now remember, and she had left it on the floor of the corridor to the loo. Having easily collapsed down to ground level to open the bag, I then found take off rather more difficult, and ended up presenting the pen drive to Stewart whilst on my knees. Roger Turner thought I was going to propose to Heather who was standing next to Stewart. A prospect Roger found funny, but what Heather thought isn’t repeatable. I was fortunate she drove me home. Anyway, to return to the beginning of the evening, tonight God stilled his sprinklers, and indeed a fine sunset welcomed us back to the pub after a just under 5 mile mountainous trail planed by Tony Ellis, and executed by himself and Nicky. Tony always does quite short hilly trails, and indeed has done a route from the Stanley Arms a couple of years ago, when I was his humble assistant. This knowledge proved very helpful, as after a muster on the top of Macclesfield Forest, Tony’s route back to the pub tonight was almost the reverse of the outward loop of the trail we set a while ago. For a man of my sloth little snippets of information, like knowing the route, are of enormous assistance. Early on in the piece, I struggled to the top of a rise, where Tony had a check. The straight on option went steeply downhill over a mucky stream, and then equally steeply uphill to the next rise. I had no time to consider the right hand option, as Tony taking pity on the now gasping El Presidente, gave me a silent nod to go straight on down the hill. As I gazed across this valley we were all going to have to negotiate I could see young Mr Sutor just disappearing over the next rise. “God, he’s miles away!” I thought. He wasn’t of course, but he was just over 5 minutes in front of me, as I timed my progress from the top of the one rise I was on, to the top of the one that Ken had just disappeared over! Later on as he went by me for the fifth time, I found myself muttering “I hate Ken Sutor!” I don’t, as a more appropriate word to use would be jealousy. I’m jealous of his youth and fitness, but there’s nothing to be done about it, and in reality I’m just so grateful just to still be here, enabling me to run the risk of having a couple of quick pints too many. The reader of last week’s report may be wondering whether Victoria did in fact kill Matthew for his verbal indiscretion. Now I may not have this tale quite right, but putting together about 3 slightly garbled and different versions of what each reporter assured me was the truth, it seems Victoria only found about Matthew’s description of her Hen night activities, when he actually read out last week’s report to her, as she drove him to the Stanley Arms. Does that mean a Hash report was finally put into print? Probably not, as I suspect young Matthew extracted the report using some form of modern electronic wonderment. Perhaps it was an I PAIN as Victoria clouted him for his potentially ungentlemanly candour. Actually, she said she thought the report was amusing, and it was pure co-incidence that her dog Lola was quietly chewing my ankle as the pair of them caught up with me scurrying down the hill from the muster. When we reached the bottom of this downhill bit, there was another dog that you really wouldn’t have wanted chewing you. Over the top of a 4 foot high fence was the head of a huge dark grey Irish Wolfhound that was barking loudly as it bounced up and down trying to get a better view of what these clearly loopy humans were doing. Lola, you can chew my ankle anytime. Tuesday 20th July 2010This was one of the exceptions to the non-rain on Tuesdays. Although it was easing on the journey over - when we got out of the car the heavens opened and largish quantities of water fell from the sky. When it came to the time of the off it looked a bit like the old days - about 15 hardy souls ready to go. However late-comers then appeared out of the woodwork with others - such as Matthew and Faye - only appearing partway round the trail. As the car park was at the bottom of all the hills - the only way was up. So we headed up a tarmacced stream to a flash of lightning and a growl of thunder with Steve B covering the front and Karen covering the rear. A trip through the village - which must look lovely in summer --sorry it is summer -- in sunshine, was followed by a couple of checks on the way up the watery road until we headed across a footpath to start our way up the hills. At this point the rain was a bit tired so it stopped for a rest. But we continued around the edge of the hill and then a quit cut to the upslope to take us to near the top. After a brief admire of the rainclouds along the tops of neighbouring hills it was alond a ditch and the start of the trip down the slopes. To complete the trail as we approached the bottom - Steve took us through a small, shallow but swift running stream. If anything my feet felt drier after this. Ele Presidenté says...Little Mill Inn, Rowarth – 20.07.10 I blame United Utilities’. The day after they announced no-one could use their hosepipes, God decided that he could, and would, and has! So Nick’s old adage of “It never rains on a Tuesday” has been washed away in a bout of Lordly pique. Last week at Higher Poynton, the weather was miserable, with spits and spats of rain and cloud low enough that the trail layers anticipated views were smothered by cumulonimbus. This Tuesday evening’s forecast was for rain, interspersed with heavy downpours and occasional thunder! Bearing in mind the trail was from a pub none of us had ever heard of, in a village that was seemingly located down a dead end road that was first on the left past Brigadoon, the prospects were anything but clement. Steve Brocklehurst was in charge this week, and he’d chosen this virgin Hash territory as he only lives down the road. The previous week he pointed out that as most of us would be coming round the M60; we should NOT try and come through Marple as the main road was closed at night for 3 months, for repairs to stop it completely disappearing into Marple Brook. No problem. We could all go one junction further up the motorway, and trundle through Romiley. Only you couldn’t! As Higgo drove four of us down into Romiley in a vehicle that had morphed from a VW Passat to a version of Noah’ s Ark so hard was it raining, we came to a stop. And stayed stopped. What to do? Tony’s Sat Nav (commonly known as Jane) suggested the alternative through Marple that we knew was blocked. Suddenly, we moved forward 2 car lengths, so we stupidly decided to stay in the queue in the hope that the problem would be just round the next bend. When we eventually came upon the blockage round half a dozen bends, we found two cars engaged in such intimate bodily contact underneath the railway bridge at Romiley station, that if it had been human interaction an 18 certificate would have applied. Hopefully, no-one was hurt. There was now no prospect of turning round as we entered a two way street just wide enough for one. Further Hashing frustration ensued. Meanwhile, Jane was helpfully continuing to extend our estimated arrival time at the Little Mill Inn minute by minute. Eventually, we struggled back on to the main road, and were off – to be restrained almost immediately by a trumpet blast! Really! Jane was telling Higgo he was going too fast by blasting him with half a dozen bars of the Last Post. Apparently, she does this every time he exceeds the speed limit. Apparently, this is the default speed warning setting on his Sat Nav. It’s possibly an appropriate tune for its selected purpose, but it is rather …ah…..annoying! When we got into Marple Bridge, Jane silkily instructed Higgo to turn left. El Presidente grumpily told him to go straight on! Faced with a choice between placating the smooth sexually attractive Jane, or the grumbling old fart sitting to his left, Tony choose the fart. Jane was trying to take us on what looked potentially a really scenic undulating route but which would involve miles of narrow country lanes. Not a lot of use when you’re late, and there’s a perfectly reasonable B road to take you most of the way to your destination. And so, just as the pack set off we splashed into the Little Mill car park at 19.55, having taken 75 minutes to drive 27 miles! We were NOT to be the last to arrive! Anyway, there was now a mass bail out of Noah’s Passat and into a downpour. A loud clap of thunder greeted our scramble to don waterproofs, tighten laces, fumble to find reading glasses so that map reading could at least be a possibility. Someone reckoned the thunder was God laughing at us! Someone else said it was God p*****g on us. Whatever it was it was wet! I blame United Utilities! Fortunately, as we plugged slowly upwards, (it was always going to be up when the pub is in the bottom of geographical bowl), the rain eased. Eventually, we got out on top of some moor or other, with views that were surprisingly good, albeit under a heavy threatening cloud base. In fact, at one stage looking at a ridge in the far distance Steve and I agreed the cloud hugging the top looked like snow. Fortunately, even United Utilities couldn’t manage that trick, and by this time of night God had gone off for an early night. Inevitably on these upland moorland areas, we had one or two long sections without checks. So eventually Steve called a halt to let the back catch up. We were all now enthusiastically looking forward to the rest of the trail, as it could only be downhill. Whilst waiting for us all to come together, Matthew suddenly announced, “Whilst we’ re all waiting, can I give you some bad news about Victoria?” Victoria usually travels in one car with Matthew, Faye and Julia. After a pause Matthew continued, “I’m sorry to say that Victoria can’t be here tonight.” Now I’m beginning to have the “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” type of thought, as Matthew is standing there with a long serious expression on his face. After another dramatic pause Matthew slowly said, “I’m afraid to say she’s pulled a muscle – (further pause) – pole dancing!” Verbal mayhem ensued! Half a dozen people started firing questions at Matthew all at the same time. Matthew by now had given up all pretence of being serious. And with all these shouted queries, do you know, not one of them was actually asking about Victoria’s welfare. Questions concerned such things as, where had she been doing this damaging activity, did she do it regularly, what sort of costume was she wearing etc etc? Now the trouble with the Hash is that there are a number of us male Hashers who are desperately battling the effects of age on their declining bodies, whilst there is no danger of us having to fight a similar war regarding our psychological decline, as we’ve still only managed to get to a mental age of 14! In the pub later, Matthew quietly explained that Victoria had actually been on a hen night, where a pole had been provided for the entire group to try out. I’m told this is now quite common for young ladies nights out, and seems to be potentially far more healthy, that the standard blokes stag night, that seems to involve an expensive cheap flight to an obscure city in Eastern Europe, where the participants only confirm the locals impression of British blokes as being permanently drunk. Anyway, Victoria is going to kill Matthew when she finds out what he’s been saying. Tickets for their greatly anticipated next meeting are available for a modest fee, which will be used to replenish the Hash fund raising kitty! Anyway, eventually the humour subsided, and we all turned for home. As expected it was downhill – and slippery! I was pattering very steadily around some soaking wet rocks, keeping to the equally dodgy grass bits, when I missed my footing, but without any serious problem. Ten seconds later Andy Hunt seemingly floated by me with his incredibly long strides. “How on earth can you stay upright going at that speed?” I called out. Andy immediately didn’t!! Down he went quite gracefully, and his backside carved an elegant curve in the sodden turf before he could regain control of his motor functions. Having righted the ship, he cheerfully grinned back at me, and bounded off downhill at unabated pace. I think you could say that like Tigger, he bounced! And so down and more down we went, and finally came to a very vigorously flowing stream, that gave a wonderful opportunity for a quick sluice of the old shoes. Immediately after this welcome Nike Wash we came to a check. No-one went over the stile to the left parallel to the stream. My brain ground into gear. It initially said “Allan, you can’t check anymore. You’re too slow, and you’ll get lost!” Then it had a re-think and came back with the thoughts “The pub’s called the Little MILL. Mills need water. Water comes from streams. It’s gone 9 o’clock, so we can’t have far to go, so what about just following the stream.” So, I took a risk and clambered over the stile and set off to do a genuine check. Of course within 30 seconds Ian and Matthew sped past, and came upon two separate soggy chunks of loo roll beckoning us on to the pub. Excellent! And so, your scribe ended up in the car park in the first half of the pack for the first time in many months! How nice for once to get into the pub before Tony Ellis had started his second pint. And so eventually, from a very unpromising start, Steve’s trail went absolutely fine. He’d got Karen to look after the back of the pack, and the fact that he’d only given her a map of the route 5 minutes before the Hash set off didn’t stop her doing a fine job. We’d started this Tuesday evening with blocked roads we knew about, followed by blocked roads we didn’t know about, followed by arguments with Jane who insisted she knew better than we did, in terms of where to go, and how quickly we got there. We finished ambling home under a placid darkening sky, with Jane quietly dozing in her little plastic box, as we drove back through Romiley where the authorities had swept away the motoring debris that had caused such heartache 3 hours earlier. All in all an excellent evening. By the time I got home, I’d even forgot about United Utilities. Tuesday 13th July 2010Allan provides the report for this week as I was off with son's graduation in the wilds of Huddersfield so from the - Boars Head, Higher Poynton - 13.07.10 As we motored through the gloom to the pub on Tuesday night, Mr Higgins was said he was absolutely sure he’d laid a trail from the Boars Head in the Pre Cambrian era of the Cheshire Hash i.e. when he was a young man of less than 60. Mr Ellis, who has more experience of when and where we’ve been than any of the rest of us, used this mountain of muddled memories to mutter than he didn ’t think he’d been here but maybe he had. “I’ll know when I see the inside of the pub!” he said, concentrating as ever on the most important part of the evening. The other member of our little band, Ken Sutor, was just happy he’d been able to grovel sufficiently to have been able to scrounge a lift and couldn’t care a t*** about these historical ramblings! A sensible as well as a fast fellow is our Ken. Anyway, Tony Higgins decided he’d go through his records when he got home just to “Check things out!” It turns out he couldn’t find a record of any trail he’d laid from the Boars Head, after he’d sorted through the maps he’s got of all the trails he’s laid over the years. All 118 of them! Hash records confirmed that no-one has set a trail from this boozer before. Indeed the Hash has never been to Higher Poynton before, so this evenings trail produced by the feminine triumvirate of Bridget, Carol and Cat produced lots of virgin territory. Before the off, Bridget gathered us all together for “instructions.” She’s said the trail had been laid the day before, when it had rained! Not a good sign. Quite a lot of chalk had been used, never good in the rain. Also, the direction of the route had had to be reversed at the last moment. This was something to do with the National Trust and when they’d lock the gates of Lyme Park. Another, not a good sign. The Trust had also muttered something about having a licence before running was allowed in the Park. Finally, Bridget told us we’ d need extra cash for the kitty as chips were on offer after the run. By now, the assembled Hashers were muttering that this was going to be a Plank Award winning trail, and we hadn’t even left the car park! Anyway, eventually we were off and an immediate 6 way check was called. Unsurprisingly virtually everyone decided to set off in the direction of Lyme Park. Rob Baddeley decided to check the route to Tatton Park! Surprisingly he was wrong, and we did indeed set off roughly in the direction of Colin Firth’s wet shirt triumph. After some nice flat scurrying along the canal, inevitably, we turned uphill. And how! The girls had decided to show us the views from what I’m told are the Bow Stones. Apparently, they’re a very well known landmark, and sit right on top of a ridge above Lyme Park, with 360 degree views. The only problem being that having clambered up no less than 840 feet above the pub, the route took us into the clouds at the potentially glorious Stones! All the girls got at the top were pleas from the Hash to tell them which way to go, as whilst there was potential for 360 degree views, the reality was exposure to winds from every direction. It turned out that the actual trail laying followed a less than conventional pattern, as although there were three of them at it, they managed to avoid actually meeting each other at all as they went round with chalk and loo roll in hand. Cat reckoned she’d been round three times to check out the checks, as had Bridget, whilst Carol managed a solitary tour. Actually, Carol had a tiny hiccough towards the end of the Hash, when she inadvertently followed the front runners down their chosen wrong route into Lyme Park. Fortunately, Cat’s stentorian corrective guidance restored matters to their normal chaos. The beauty of hauling the aged body up all this way is that according to the laws of Physics, it has to come down! It took me about 63 minutes to do the 3 and a tad miles to the top, and 22 to do the same distance back to the pub. It’s such a shame we can’t just run downhill all the time. I think young Stewart could have done with a slightly less ambitious trail, as he’d apparently spent the rest of Tuesday being taught how to do barrel rolls in a kayak in Snowdonia! He definitely looked a tad pale before we set off. Something to do with the amount of non alcoholic fluid he’d inevitably consumed. This extra Hash activity explained the odd vigorous semaphore style conversation he was having with Julia in the car park before we set off. The exaggerated arm movements they were engaged in were not as I first thought a prelude to fisticuffs, but apparently they are what you have to do to right your kayak so you avoid drowning, after you have deliberately capsized yourself to create the fatal risk in the first place! And tonight's route was Tuesday 6th JulyAs I have been hacking around in the jungle of Sarawak on Interhash there have been a shortage of reports. Firstly there is one for the Tuesday trail in Sarawak - set by Hether and Brian G and followed on here by one from Stewart for the BBQ trail from Robs' MaxWe were out in the sticks at a hotel (admittedly a Hilton) on the edge of a large hydro reservoir about 250k into the countryside of Sarawak. The location was Batang Ai and althought 250k may not sound much along the M1 - when you are bouncing along smaller tracks in the back of a Toyota minibus it seems much further. The last part of the journey was a 20 minute boat trip - 3 to a boat - across the large lake On the Tuesday we had been out most of the day visiting an Iban longhouse (two 45 minute boat rides up river) and so a brief (1k)trail was prepared around the hotel complex with a combination of materials, flour, paper - and this linked up into an Iban guided walk through the surrounding tropical rainforest. Cheshire Hashers present were Heather, Nick, Brian & Carol G, Chris & Kathy, and Maggie and myself This last was interesting as he demonstrated some of the vegetation that could be picked for eating. It got a little scary from my point of view (not being good with heights) as we went across a 70 metre rope walkway ove a 50 metre deep ravine. As I went first I had no choice but to keep moving as Carol was about 15 metres behind me and the rest following her. even though it was around 4:30 the temperature was about 30 and the conditions humid Stewart'sThe humid conditions of the last two weeks looked set to abate when we pitched up at Rob's - the wind was picking up and the clouds looked like rain was imminent - which would have been a welcome change had it actually rained! Rob took his usual position in the pulpit (how many people actually go to the trouble of building a pulpit in their own garden? Delusions of Papal Grandeur?) and announced a standard hash. Once the shock had worn off - Rob being infamous for his unique hash style - he did point out that the "on" would be marked with a loop of string. Those who found them had to return them to Rob for a prize. With Cliff controlling the pack we set off for a lively gallop around Knutsford and Toft at what turned out to be a rather rapid pace. With the fast boys spurred on by the thought of prizes galore the pack was quickly thinned out to such an extent that even Cliff (who is hardly a sedate runner)was having difficulty controlling the front. Despite a dash through the woods behind Toft Church (which have about a hundred different and confusing paths to take)Cliff was forced to call an involuntary muster to let the pack regroup. It was only a temporary respite and the pace soon picked up again. Coupled with the humid evening the mortals in the pack were finding it to be a typical Rob hash - fast, confusing and seemingly endless! There was no time for a breather at the checks! Ultimately, after Rob's route had led us down some rather pleasant trails and back roads, we emerged at the Booth's Hall roundabout to what must be one of the longest "on on home"'s known to the hash. However such was the quality and quantity of fayre Rob had waiting for us that no one moaned. Rob's daughters even laid on free showers with the garden hose which proved popular after the evenings exertions! Good food, good beer and great company meant a very convivial evening indeed. All those who had found a sting loop were rewarded with a minature chocolate bar - and the winner with 8 loops - Alisdair (hope that's the right spelling!) received a magnificent .........bag of Revels! Welcome to those new hashers - Ursula (who must have enjoyed last week as she came back!) and a certain lady from Wilmslow running club, who shall, for now, be nameless in case they find out her infidelity and punish her with endless hill reps and speed sessions. All in all an excellent evening - well done Rob and many thanks for the wonderful BBQ Tuesday 29th JuneA report from Mr Lever - who was one of the hares HASH REPORT A lower turnout was expected this week because eight regular hashers were off to the Inter-hash in Borneo and a few others had chosen to go on holiday. Hopefully, no-one chose the option of watching Spain versus Portugal in the World Cup. However, there were 43 runners (including 4 dogs) and 3 walkers. The pack included 4 new runners – Helen Baillie, James Baillie and Joanne Edge (introduced by Emma Dart) and Eursy Watson (brought along by Steve Argles) – let’s hope that we’ll see them again. At the start runners were told the run would be a “bit more” than 6 miles and 35 checks (it was actually measured as 6.7 miles! – “Hares licence”); but everyone was promised a short cut run in if they preferred or if it was getting late. We all turned left out of the pub and ran along Beauty Lane to the first check – four ways along different footpaths. Everyone that is except Cliff Wyatt who decided to have his own check at the start and ran off in completely the wrong direction; something he managed to do on many further occasions! (along with quite a few others!) The correct way at the first check was left across the field. Then we were off ….. over footpaths and along lanes, twisting and turning, looping around and briefly along the Whitegate Way heading east, passing Gale Green Farm and Brook House Farm, and then heading south down around Catsclough and passing Knights Grange Golf Course. Then we returned westwards along the Whitegate Way, before once again passing Gale Green Farm (on the other side) and dropping down to Springbank Farm and then back up to Beauty Bank. At check 27 the trail revisited the first check and runners were offered the early “Wimps Run in” straight back to the pub. Mike Murray was overcome by the smell of the beer and took that option. Others were tempted but bravely resisted. The trail dropped down to and then over the Sandiway to Winsford road and back up onto the Whitegate Way before doubling back to Martonsands across some challenging fields. Then we ran along Cassia Green Lane (which runs parallel to the Whitegate Way). Earlier, at the road, Tony Ellis could take no more he abandoned the pack and ran back to the pub (I guess he was still regretting his decision to carry on at check 27!). At Cassia Green the Hares decided to miss out the final loop and take the shortcut directly to the pub. The Hares did contemplate having an alternative “Rambos run in” for those sturdier hashers, but decided against it wishing to get everyone back to the pub before the “witching hour” of 9:15pm and avoid much grumbling. The planned final loop involved continuing up Cassia Green Lane, turning right onto Clay Lane before crossing the Sandiway to Winsford road again; then running down Foxtwist Green; before cutting back along the first footpath on the right to rejoin Whitegate Road and then running in back to the pub along the “cut through”. The truncated route was measured by Rob Baddeley’s “thingy” as 5.99 miles (give or take a centimetre). This enabled us to claim that the trail actually conformed to the Adrian Long rule of “6 miles or less” and we got back at 9:10 pm. As a result, we missed three of the checks, making it a 32 check trail. Why did we have to cut the run short? Surely we should have been able to run the entire trail and be back at The Plough by 9:15. Once again, the answer is the large number of stiles and gates and the time it takes to get everyone up and over or through each one. Is it that older hashers are having difficulty getting their legs over, that reluctant pooches delay the humans or is it the sheer volume of bodies to get through these obstacles? Of course there was the normal complaining …….. Particularly, “there are no markers!!” or “is there a world shortage of toilet tissue?!” (a comment that I have used myself on occasions). I’m afraid that Hares must develop a thick skin – it is an essential component in this thankless task. I can assure everyone that the markers were all there (Rob & I laid the trail on the Sunday morning prior to the run), but they were hidden and tucked into the hedgerows – that is done deliberately to try to keep everyone together. A thorough examination of the hedgerow WILL reveal the markers. Prior to the run Hashers were told “Our first marker should be no more than 50 paces from the check point and the second marker no further than 100 paces - if you are 150 paces out and haven't found a second marker, it isn't that way, you haven't spotted it or it is not there; don't continue further” Nevertheless runners could be seen two to three hundred yards down the wrong way and still running away! …… what can I say?! During the run Ken Craig and Moll became parted; and Ken was becoming increasingly concerned. No need to worry Moll was with the faster runners at the front, a place that Ken is rarely found these days!! Sadly, Roger Pidcock told me that this would be Boswell’s final hash - after 325 runs Boswell will be giving his paws a rest. Unfortunately, as he ages Boswell is becoming more nervous in the crowd and therefore no longer enjoys the hash. At the end of the run most of the assembled crowd retired to the garden at The Plough and enjoyed a couple of drinks; and (in the absence of El P and Hon Sec) some crisps! – Well Done Martin Hack (oh, I hope I haven’t grassed him up). The Plough is very much a restaurant as much (or more) than a pub - I thought that I would mention that I have eaten there quite a number of times, it has always been good. I would recommend The Plough to any hashers thinking of returning for a meal (Website: http://www.ploughwhitegate.com/). The area around the Plough also offers lots of varied opportunities for walking and running. When I am a Hare at a CH3 hash I have a number of objectives:
The three walkers arrived back at 9:15pm and told me that they had enjoyed their planned walk (including the ending which the runners missed). Most of us runners also just missed them first time around at Gale Green Farm. Thanks to them for resetting check “1” to make it check “27”. Last week and this week I have had to be Register Monitor – the awarder of “ticks”. I have discovered that it is quite difficult to be a Hare AND Register Monitor in the same week. I look forward to handing back responsibility next week. In addition I look forward to the Rob Stephenson BBQ hash – 8 miles and three checks! Tuesday 15th JuneThis report was done from memory after getting back from interhash - so it will be even vaguer than normal and with even less detail than I generally include. Mike and Pam volunteered to set the trail from their place - and as a result there was a large turnout. The evening had turned out warm and as we set off the pace was steady rather than rapid as the pack shuffled itself about. Mike set in a few interesting loops off through Pickmere and then round part of the Mere. By careful manipulation we ended up at the Budworth Ice Cream farm for an ice and a pause where the walkers caught up with us. At this point Pam left us on john Seymour's bike to put together the final touches to the food and Maggie lent Allan her fleece as he doesn't cope with rapid cooling when there is still some running to do. Eventually we got off again and passing through various fields with fewer than normal checks we arrive back at the cottage for an excellent spread. - Well done Pam & Mike as usual. Tuesday 8th JuneMatthew and Faye set their second trail from another Lower. This time Withington rather than Peover. The day had been dismal. Drizzle - outright rain - grey mankiness. In fact it had rained as I headed home at 5 o'clock. However as we left Lymm in cloud the sky started clearing and by 7:30 as we approached Lower Withington the sky was mostly clear and the sun was visible and the air temperature climbed. We got away reasonably promptly having been told that it was about 6 miles and 16 checks. In the good conditions this meant that the pack had the chance to (for those of a certain age) do a Juantorina - Open their legs and show their class. Fortunately the quicker hashers tended to go the wrong way frequently enough that this and the muster put in by the hares meant that there was not a great distance between the front and back when we got into the pub. The countryside was brilliant and mixed foootpaths,woodlands and road well - but there was a shortage of suitable multi way checks to pull the pack back together. And here's El Presidenté's thoughtsBlack Swan, Lower Withington – 08.06.10 It’s a couple of years since we last ran at the Black Swan. Then Nicky and John Moorhouse were responsible for a 6 mile plus trail, which lacked a profusion of checks, and had markers a LONG way away from each check. Still, we all survived, despite the beer being a bit on the expensive side. The Black Swan like many rural boozers has gone for the 4x4 food trade, as its potential market for local drinkers who can walk to and from the place, is restricted to a pair of cottages and a semi-derelict farmhouse. The trouble with a boozer going all Gordon Ramsey is the price of its ale seems to rise. Tonight however, Martin Hack who as he wasn’t driving, assumed his normal role as Chief Hash Ale Procurer (CHAP) and managed to produce a modest cash surplus for the kitty even after his non driving alcoholic thirst had been slaked. Fortunately, he’d had a couple of pints very quickly, and so only thought of a crisp packet mortar bomb raid across the bar to use up the surplus, after he’d handed over the cash to El Presidente. I suspect the overall unhealthy alcoholic consumption coupled with a healthy Hash kitty was because we were drinking Hyde’s bitter, which generally has a “competitive” price. It also tastes good. And so, I suppose I can’t postpone writing about this evenings trail any longer, despite an inclination to try and concentrate memories on the increasingly blurred images of a very pleasant evening in the bar. Matthew and Faye were the deliverers of this evening’s escapade. They weren’t hashing in 2008, when Nicky and John did their thing from the Black Swan. What the newcomers managed to innocently achieve was, with two very minor deviations, to produce exactly the same trail as their predecessors had done, but backwards! And a fat lot of good local knowledge did John Moorhouse! Nicky wasn’t running tonight, but John was. About 2/3rds of the way round tonight’s route, he said he began to feel he was familiar with the area. But early on familiarity hadn’t dawned. As I trundled up to the 6th or 7th check, there was John steaming back from the straight on option where he’d found nothing, cheerfully setting off to check right, which was wrong! In fact the straight on option wasn’t actually marked as it’s a private drive with no public right of way. Not that that stops many trail layers from using such an option. Some parts of tonight’s route were particularly rural, with rough farm tracks beginning to feel like motorways compared with the majority of the under foot conditions. Some of these tracks had live sprung loaded electric fences strung across them. Matthew kindly unhooked a couple of these fences so us sluggards progress was unimpeded by the need to use the alternate stiles. However, as the pack got a bit strung out, he left one unhooked electric fence on the ground to sprint after the front runners calling back, “Last one hook the fence back up!” So the Good Samaritan in me stupidly took over, and I tried to do the hooking up. Well, this particular wire was seriously sprung loaded, and it took all my dwindling strength to pull it across the now unprotected track. Having finally done that, because I wasn’t wearing my specs, I couldn’t see precisely where the hook hooked. Inevitably, I managed to get some part of my ageing anatomy attached to the live wire, and “Bang” it was cardio version time again. For the fit and healthy among you, cardio version is the medical procedure you see in many dramatic hospital TV and movie dramas, where the hero medic pushes his/her colleagues away from the frothing and thrashing patient, and then plunges two electric irons onto the patients bared chest, immediately after loudly crying out “Clear!” By the by, why is it always a bloke who is the patient with the bare chest in these medical media dramas? Cardio version reality is rather more prosaic. It’s used on folk who have irregular heart beats like your scribe, to return their tickers to its normal rhythm. The medics sedate you so you aren’t aware of them creeping up on you with a pair of large gleaming stainless steels pads that’s makes them look like cast members of a 1960s Hammer horror film. The procedure usually does the trick of settling the heart rate down, but it’s not normally carried out in the middle of the Cheshire countryside late on a Tuesday evening. So I never did get to do the hooking up, as one nasty belt from the National Grid was all this Hasher was going to risk. In the end with the use a muster to gather all the troops together, everyone was delivered safely back to Black Swan, including two new recruits who said what a good time they’d had. Hopefully, they did and will return, although promises from virgin Hashers to return are not always carried out, as spelled out in the stats that tell us about 40% of Hashers only turn up once! And talking of the stats, I passed out some a week or so ago as we’ve recently finished our 28th year of Cheshire Hashing. As always, there are errors in the numbers. This year the principle ones were errors of omission. When I first did the “who has run the most” and “who is the most regular” lists, I noticed I’d missed off Tony Higgins after my copy and pasting exercise. That’s not good I thought, as Higgo is a stalwart Hasher. What I didn’t initially notice was I’d also not copied young Dr Stephenson. Sorry Rob. So having put him back in figures, that actually means we’ve got 18 Hashers who’ve run over 500 times, and not 17 as I first thought. There’s still only one of that exalted category who isn’t still making reasonably regular appearances, and he reckons his body’s broke. Some of us still running feel the same. I find that devotion to hashing quite astonishing! Also, there are loads of Hashers coming up behind the pensioners section, which can only be good news. Doing one set of stats for everyone is much easier than doing a set of stuff for each individual Hasher, as I tried to do a few years ago. That takes ages, and inevitably concentration flags so errors creep in. I once presented Derek Clark with a sustificate for him and another for his dog Meg that showed his canine pal had run twice as often as he had. It’s the copy and pasting thing that went wrong again. A computer programme is a wonderful thing for juggling data, but it does what you ask it to do, and no more. It’s not (yet) intuitive. If you ask it to add up how many trails Brian Burgess has laid, it will tell you. What it won’t do is to work out that on 5 occasions I’d spelt his name BRAIN Burgess. (Read closely.) In the records there was also confusion over the spelling of Stevenson/Stephenson, and even last week Steve Brocklehurst was pointing out that he wasn’t Brockenhurst, or was it the other way round. Occasionally, people change their names, so can figure twice in the stats. I put these errors right when I find them, but there’s bound to be more. A quick glance at the list of places we’ve run from shows a number of anomalies. Spelling of the name of the pub or the location of the boozer can be suspect. Indeed, some pubs have been listed as being in different villages, even when they’re not. In the early days when our numbers were more modest lay-bys were often used as starting points, and occasionally no reference is made in the records to where we all went for a pint. If I’d known in 1982 that there would be such things as computers ordinary mortals could use, but that they’d require EXACT information to operate at optimum efficiency, I doubt it would have made any difference. It’s quite an odd feeling to know that the Cheshire Hash is older than Channel 4. We started 18.05.82, and Richard Whitely didn’t first smarm across the screen until 6 months later. We’re all used to knowing about or indeed dealing with literally hundreds of TV stations, when in fact when we started running in Cheshire there were precisely 3 UK TV channels. What other changes have there been to our lives that we now regard as normal since 1982? Answers in a plain brown envelope addressed to....... Anyway, enough of all this philosophising. Good lord, my spell check is happy with the word philosophising. The two links below are for this evening’s route, and also for Nicky and John’s effort in April 2008. Compare and contrast as it used to say in my old exam questions. MapmyRun 2010 Matthew & Faye Tuesday 1st JuneNicky, with the assistance of Paul J set the trail in Wrenbury - an area that we have barely touched - basically because it is of a distance down the A49 that it is best done in summer. This pub (Dusty Miller) is about on the level with the one at the Blue Bell in Tushingham but 5 miles or so east. Having taken ourselves down country lanes littered with footpath signs we arrived at a handsome dutch bridge across the Llangollen Canal with the pub just beyond it. The setting was excellent and the previously gloomy sky had lifted to give a pleasant evening. The trail itself was varied and we were continually teased with the canal footpath which we crossed on a nunber of occasions until after a longish haul we came to a muster point to draw us back together. Then it was back to business - getting lost. Until after another set of checks we re-appeared at a muster point and then took of down a road past Wrenbury Hall. After another approach to the canal where we lost one or two shortcutters we completed the trail for a rapid change and a couple of pints of Robinson's finest - Another good trail - an excellent pub and excellent countryside Tuesday 25th MayAllan and Martin set tonight from the Railway in Helsby - at the foot of the hill near enough - and started by taking the pack off - on this warm spring evening - downhill and onto the moss. There are a few footpaths down there and a number of windy roads but the summary of it was that you have to head back over the motorway on one of the many bridges. After this you have a tendency to go uphill - which we did - but by a circuitous route. The general trend was a clockwise route round the hill and then finally a path that led us up.. Then a road that led us up.. then a road that led us down and not up. I was just getting used to the downward bit and happened to say to Tony E that there was not likely that we would climb futher now when the hash took a turn right and back upwards until we met with the walking contingent at the top of the Quarry Park where there were many checking opportunities some up and a lot down. we used one of the many ones down within the park travelling at a fair lick until we appeared at the bottom of the park. A couple more checks and the cry was on-inn from the hares and we all used gravity to take us down to the main road and the shorter trundle along the A56 back to the pub. Tuesday 18th MayKaren is being cruel to be kind. That at least was the understanding for why we descended many many steps from the Ring of Bells - at the top of Marple - down to the Railway bridge and then down more and steeper steps down to nearly the river. Kind - because otherwise we would have had to run up them all instead. It was an excellent hashing evening - bright sky, warm without being hot, not too humid - and no torch needed. So... What did we do at the bottom? We checked and then started going up hills again. This was to be a small pattern of the evening but the trail took us through some excellent bits of countryside with good views and occasional pauses - such as one where ther wa a field with a horse and a foal, which couldn't have been very old, galloping round the field. This was to the top of another hill. So we went down again - and down until we appeared near the bridge at Marple. All we had to do then was start to climb again until we diverted onto the canal for a short troll and then to the pub. It was a good trail ably backmarked by Steve B and we settled into the pub for a bit of Robinson's and some very good chips. Tuesday 11th MayA night entirely without use of a torch. Froma a Sam Smith pub so cheap ale and negative side I was driving so point 2 was irrelevant Simon set the trail from the Bird in Hand at Knolls Green, Mobberley on a fine evening where the daytime cold wind had dropped to nothing. So once you had got moving - you warmed up quickly. It was amazing how quickly the fields around here had dried out - there was only one muddy patch but we found some of the footpaths a bit of an ankle turner due to the fact that the hoofprints in the previously damp fields were now locked in place due to the dryer conditions. But again- daylight helps in these circumstances - and you can see the nettles that you run through. It was a good trail and well held together. Tuesday 4th MayStar Wars Day as it is sometimes known (May the 4th be with you). The duo took us out to an immediate check in front of the pub and then down a narrow - winding lane. A goodly pack with Dr Dave taking his new doglet out on trail for the second time - at times she threatened to leave him behind but fortunately for Dave she kept stopping to look for interesting things in the hedgerow. The trail was fairly intricate - involving a coupe of the car parks around Delamere forest area with us wending our way past the Chinese restauant and the Carriers at Hatchmere before heading back to the woods again. The thing I like about the woody trails is that the packed earth is so comfortable to run on - as long as you don't fall over any tree roots. Although we were moving at a bit of a lick in places there were enough multi-way checks to keep the pack mostly together for a run in soon after 9pm. Then a quick change and into the pub for some Jennings. And from El PresidentéTigers Head, Norley – 05.05.10 (plus others) I haven’t put my finger prints to the keyboard for a while, so as I won’t be here next Tuesday for the second Tour de Mobberley in 3 weeks, I thought a little summary of our last few Hashes might be appropriate. Following Derek and Clive’s recent epics where pub closing time and Hash finishing time got awfully close together, we seem to have settled into a pattern of near identical length trails. Five of the last 6 trails have been within a fraction of 6 miles, with a maximum difference in length of only 170 yards! Perhaps, Adrian’ s “guidelines” following Derek’s trail have been acted upon! Yeah right!! This is a Hash where nobody listens to anybody. The real difference between these routes has been in the number of checks. Adrian produced 20 a month ago from the Whipping Stocks, whilst Rob Baddeley found 35 last night. The routes were virtually the same length, and took the same time. The difference was Adrian needed to use musters to allow the back to catch up, whilst Rob didn’t need to. I know I get boring on the subject, but the more checks there are, then the easier it is for the trail layers to keep the pack together. The real problem is that not every bit of our territory offers trail layers the scope for loads of checks, so I think we’ll all have to live with this variety. At least it gives us all a chance to have a real moan! One of the other factors keeping the current Hash speed up is all those Hashers who’ve been Marathon training. The rather depressing news for us sluggards is that most of these hares now have other long distance events in mind, and are continuing to train hard. You can smell the endorphins across the pub car parks! Last week in the Frozen Mop, Nick even produced a film show of those who’d been on the London Marathon. I was sure that one or two Hashers at Mobberley last week who looked stiff and sore hadn’t even been entered in the London. No, they’d been to Cape Cornwall to do a marathon along Cornish coastal paths! Roger Turner’s son apparently is deeply involved in a series of heavyweight athletic challenges down there, so some Cheshire Hashers undertook a 700 mile round trip, to engage in this marathon. Stewart took the same time in Cornwall as Cat did in London, but as Stewart said; he had to negotiate a few more “undulations!” All this to return to a Cheshire pub that’s charging £3.25 a pint! I suspect the owners are trying to rapidly recover the cost of the recent refurbishment. More normal service was resumed at the Tigers Head last night. This was the 16th time we’ve run from here, and it won’t be the last. There’s so many possible routes from here, that’s it’s probably one of the top three easiest pubs to go to lay a trail. Since Rob B signed up to mastermind this event, a subsequent work engagement surfaced, so he did well to get back from London, where he was tied up until mid afternoon. Checking his multi faceted, twin camshaft, double mother boarded personal wrist computer in the pub after the run, he found three E Mails that had arrived whilst he had been steering round the trail. Apparently, some of his superiors never sleep. There was some reference to an American parent company, where supremely ambitious Vice Presidents vie with each other to have the earliest heart attack. A lot of our Hashers seem to be effectively self employed, so presumably don’t suffer this external pressure. Boy is it good to be retired! One of our more mature Hashers used to graft for one of the American industrial giants, which operated world wide. In the late 80s they had one of their “down sizing” periods. That’s what today our politicians call “efficiency” savings. Both PR phrases mean loads of people get sacked. Anyway, in the midst of this mayhem, our Hasher found himself promoted rather than shot! The bad news was he lost control of his life. He’d reached an exalted level, where the only people above him were the decision makers. That doesn’t mean they made things happen, just made meetings which their underlings could be called to at short notice, and at the other end of the country. So looking at his Hash stats, you can see a big dip in his attendance record, which only got corrected when his Employers then had a “restructuring” exercise, and this time they didn’t miss him! The b*****r was even encouraged out with an enhanced pension. For the financially challenged amongst you, that means he got more pension income than he was actually entitled to. Only MPs get that now. BOY, is it good to be retired!! And a few recent route maps
Tuesday 27th AprilPost Marathon Heather set a trail from the Frozen Mop near Mobberley. It waas a proper spring-like evening. A little cloud which cleared and a reasonably warm temperature. we set out on a tour past a lot of the local hosteleries without stopping at any of them - So the Roebuck and the Church toname but two and not passed in that order. She and the footw-soldier with on trail support from Rob S moved a fairly large pack through the byways and fields of Mobberley to bring us back in the fading light to the pub. In fact the only downside was the horrible price charged for distinctly average, over-chilled beer. Well done to all those London marathoneers whose results are loaded on the appropriate Race results page. Tuesday 13th AprilAdrian L put on his measuring shoes to set a trail which he had promised would be under 6 miles and wopuld bring us back to the Whipping Stocks at not later than 9:15 Well he kept his word. His trail of 22 checks came in at about 5.7 miles (Allan to confirm) and I realised we had got back at a reasonable time when at 9:45 I had finished my second pint - Thanks to Mr H who weas driving that night - so I had a third. The territory is reasonably well known - due in no small part to it being a congenial Sam Smith's pub and therefore with beer at well under &poumd;2 per pint. The kitty does well here and means that there are funds for the100 and 200 anniversary glasses and also the hash UK Athletics membership - which among other things give us the reduced affiliate rate in races, some guaranteed London Places and most importantly the 3rd Party insurance cover on our Tuesday 'training' runs. So - Important not to consume the kitty every week The evening started chill but cleared and we had light for most of the trail, which started off up Stocks Lane before hitting the footpath behind Radbroke Hall. This provided the only really muddy part of the trail. There is always a risk when hash gets to the size we are now that if you don't have enough complexity then the fact that there are 40 people out can make a trail that consists of 2 way checks and a lot of stiles into a very long procession with the front finishing significantly in front of the back of the pack. Adrian avoided this by not having many stiles and also he fitted in a muster at a busy road to bring us all back together. So - all in all a good trail Adrian - you'll have to do it again.. ;-) Tuesday 6th AprilDue to a flying visit from my daughter I resisted the lure of the hash tonight - but here is a totally unbiased report from the trail assistant for the night - El Presidenté White Barn, Cuddington - 06.04.10 Over 75 years ago, Stanley Adams translated the lyrics of an old Mexican song into "What a difference a day makes" and with the exception of turning "day" into "week", couldn't have more accurately described the reaction to this week's trail compared to last Tuesday's classic. Mr Lever was our course designer from the White Barn at Cuddington, the fifth time he's used this pub. He only lives about 5 minutes away by Nike, and much less by Megane. Indeed he could have set the trail from his front door, but for reasons I can't now remember he dragged me to the pub the previous Thursday morning to do the necessary wall drawings & loo roll tying A trail of 5.8 miles and 30 odd checks attracted 51 ticks, and David delivered his promise to have the runners back in the car park just after 9. There were some desultory "Good trail" greetings in the car park, but once everyone was in the pub, there wasn't a squeak about the trail. Last week the only source of conversation for the whole evening was what had and hadn't happened as we'd battled round Clive's trail. Mr Lever was not disappointed, as he has this theory that he is one of a number of trail layers who have no chance of ever winning a Hash award for littering the countryside. He reckons he's good at it, (trail laying that is not littering), which of course he is, and good trails don't win planks. Thank God. Anyway, the conversation in the White Barn was marginally influenced by Barcelona whacking Arsenal all across two wide screens, but generally Hashers ended up drifting into their own personal conversations, including a few folk even talking about the election. The election for God's sake, it's only 4 weeks away and already I'm bored with the subject. How do the Americans cope, with their Congressional elections every 2 years and the big one every 4? Us poor British are left with having to choose between 3 main political parties, none of whom has an exactly polished stainless steel record on political skill, economic competence or personal probity. None of them has any money. So they're reduced to trying to sneak through honours for people who'll pay for them, or in the Conservatives case, honours for Michael Ashcroft who wants a governing role in the Lords over us poor taxpayers, whilst himself NOT paying UK tax. This compensates him for the all the money he's given the Conservatives to try and buy votes for them in marginal constituencies. Labour would be bust if it wasn't for Trade Unions cash. Even the Liberal Democrats have managed to hang on to the 2 and half million quid a convicted fraudster gave them 5 years ago. Apparently, as the donor hadn't been banged up at the time, the Electoral Commission reckoned it was OK for them to keep it. In the midst of all this our 650 MPs have been subject to a thorough enquiry concerning their expenses, and have been found to have over claimed by about £1.2 million. After all those hours of TV coverage, and 10 acres of felled rain forest of newspaper coverage, and the over payments come to less than an average of £2,000 per MP. They're not even very good at fiddling expenses. The enquiry into their misdemeanours cost more than that. And where is the public enquiry to work out how come us poor taxpayers (again) have had to stump up £175 billion to try and sort out the financial Grand Canyon the Investment Bankers have got us into! Our political parties don't seem remotely interested in finding out EXACTLY how we were conned. Could be because their finger prints might be all over the evidence. What intrigues me is the way the amount of money involved with this quantitive easing is misunderstood. I mean a billion sounds very like a million, but it's size is so large it's like us poor taxpayers trying to conceive of the distance to Alpha Centauri. That's actually about 25,000,000,000,000 miles i.e. the figure 25 plus 12 noughts. £175 billion is £175,000,000,000 or 175 plus 9 noughts, or 10% of the gross domestic product of the entire country, or about £8,000 for every working person in the UK. At £6 per week for the Hash kitty, we could get over 25 years of hashing out of that 8 grand, and that's assuming we all came running every week! No wonder politicians and investment bankers don't want us trawling all over this piggy bank. And how much of this quantitive easing will actually stick to the fingers of the bankers? My eldest is so impressed with all this economic and political shenanigans, he's applied for a postal vote as he'll be away in the US on business on Election Day. And then he's going to deliberately spoil his vote. He reckons some one should set up the NOTA party. It stands for None Of The Above. It could also be NOTO meaning None Of The Others. Might almost be worth paying the £500 deposit and standing as a candidate just to see what response you'd get. The answer would be none without some publicity, but it's still an interesting thought. I told you it was a boring evening in the pub! Tuesday 30th MarchWhen I was walking back to my car from the Altricham tramstop earlier tonight I happened to be behind a family group - a Mother , Father and a 2½ year old child about yea high. Said infant was walking along with mother's umbrella and came to a very small puddle. At this point the child stopped and vith great enjoyment jumped up an down in it shoutin 'mummy- splash!' You may wonder what that has to do with tonight's trail from the Ram's Head in Disley - ably set by Clive and backed up by Sarah. But then you need to bring Martin H into the equation. This is the type of trail he likes. The rain had stopped but there were large puddles - mud - and even a stream to run through. For which he thanked the hare about half way round. As to the rest of the trail - well this was about the time I - and others - lost contact with the front half of the trail. We had managed to drop back at the sewage works where we had a back-up trying to get across a rickety stile and then a gate to get onto the macadamed surface. Sarah was along with us in a sweeper position but by this time her copy of the map was a bit worse for wear . So we ran past the next check at a slightly masked finger post and then backed to it. We then missed the very narrow footpath with encroaching blackthorn and ran mostly across a field which appeared to have a large free-standing chimney in it - but Sarah called us back to it. Afterwards we made an incorrect choice - Sarah had recce'ed the route in daylight 3 weeks previously - Clive had set it but at our point of diversion Sarah thought we had to stay this side of a tunnel under the canal so we did. This involved a climb down a set of very muddy and deep steps to a very muddy and steep path which had become the worse for wear from a small landslip. We eventually reached the top and Stewart and Martin engaged in conversation with a householder to ascertain a route back to the pub. Even with directions we managed to miss the path first time and eventually got to the canal and proceded with a long run in along it until we met Clive at a swing bridge and the run back to the pub. Stewart said he hadn't done any checking (due to having run a 27 mile welsh coatal marathon on the Sunday) and his wrist satnav said he had done over 7 miles. We got to the pub at about 9:50 and changed and in by 10:00- almost time for the treck back across Cheshire to Lymm. For Stewart it was time as he and Alison had to get back to the Middlewich region to relieve the babysitter. On Balance think there was a good trail set there - unfortunately I missed some and added extra. And an additional report from Allan. aka El PresidentéRams Head, Disley - 30.03.10 Hash records indicate that we've never been to Disley before, so Clive's effort would be over virgin territory. It's not the easiest place to get too, being on the A6 between Stockport and Buxton. Google Maps offered 3 routes from Knutsford! The first one suggested the M56 and back down the A6. A second following a tortuous but relatively straight line through Wilmslow and Poynton, and finally a major outflanking manoeuvre through Macclesfield, Rainow and Whalley Bridge. Now it's a long way from Rainow to the M56! Anyway, despite the significantly different mileages involved, Google reckoned there was only about a minute in time between the alternate routes all around 45 minutes. So how long did Stewart and Alison spend in the car Tuesday night coming from Nantwich? Nick decided a full frontal assault on the straight route was the way to go, and after 44 minutes of physical contortion for those in the back of his posh new Beemer he delivered the On Sec, myself and the two Tones to the Rams Head. This is apparently the first time he has had 3 in the back of BMW, and it will be the last. The beautifully sculpted rear seats are fine for 2, but with 3 occupants, that's a different case of backache. You're actually better off sitting in the middle over the prop shaft. Sitting by the doors, the lovely seats end up aiming your chest towards the gear lever, whilst pointing your feet straight forward. Despite the rain when we arrived, there was no question of sitting companiably in the back until the "off" as we'd normally do. Major structural realignment of torsos were necessary before Clive called us all to order, gave the instructions no-one listens to, and we set off, only for me to realise within 100 yards of the start, that I'd given Higgo instructions as to how the map Clive had supplied him with related to the landscape, and had succeeded in getting my guidelines 180 degrees wrong! Where I'd said the A6 went towards Buxton, it actually was going to Stockport. Sorry Tony! Fortunately, Tony is not always the most trusting soul when other people give him instructions. So he stuck to his philosophy of not leaving the pub car park until he was ABSOLUTELY sure he knew where he was on the map. When he had ABSOLUTELY established that El Presidente had no idea what he was talking about, he happily chugged off the right way, and rapidly came upon Clive's wife Sarah, who whilst absent at the start was apparently going to look after the back. Now Higgo had also been very sensible in another way, and brought a resealable clear plastic bag with him, in which to insert his map, to keep the rain from ravaging his navigational bible. None of the rest of us had this foresight, a fact of great significance by the end! Anyway, off on this virgin trail we went. After half a dozen checks, I struggled down onto a lane, and as I was passing a ladder type stile, the "On On" was called and Clive said "Over the stile and into the field!" So, over I go, and I found myself very close to the front. Now it is rare for me to be able to chat amiably to Karen McGibbon & John Moorhouse as they usually occupy the other end of the pack to me. Not only was this an unusual social treat, it meant that I was able to keep myself more in the middle of the pack than normal. In fact, a couple of times at checks I even drifted off up a route that I guessed might be right. Well, you know how stupid that is, so I rapidly returned to self preservation mode, and settled for getting off down the right route as soon as possible after it had been called. Now Clive had mentioned at the start, that this trail wasn't as undulating as most of us feared. Disley being a small town stuck in a pass through the surrounding hills. He was right, because over a third of his route was on the banks of the Peak Forest Canal, and when the canal dived under the A6, there was Sarah now happily doing her bit for the back, whilst Clive was busily engaged in looking after the front. Inevitably, the trail couldn't remain flat for ever, and so we turned right and up into the countryside and eventually onto one of the narrowest and muckiest paths I've seen in years. I think it was here that things began to go tits up. Some of the front runners had missed this mini path, and were busily trying to find there way out of a large dead end field. Meanwhile, the back of the pack had become detached from the rest, not helped by the appearance of a few stiles. So the rest of us eventually extricated ourselves from the countryside, and came under a substantial bridge taking the canal (again) over our heads. Someone called "On On" down the canal, and so we started another speedy flat excursion on the tow path, before a few undulations after we finally kissed the canal goodbye, and eventually we came home to the pub. But not all of us! Alison was looking a bit forlorn in the drizzled car park, and it appeared Stewart, who had the car keys on him, had suspected there might be trouble at the back of the pack, so had gone back to help. What a brave man said Tony Ellis, unless he's got a map and knows the area. Well, I had a map, which I'd consulted twice in the rain, and it was looking somewhat dishevelled. At that moment, Roger Turner appeared with what appeared to be a mangled bunch of coloured tissues in his hand. Roger had arrived late, taken a spare map off the back of Clive's car, and set off in pursuit of the pack using said map. But with no plastic bag, by the end of the piece the map was now this piece of used tissue, and of no cartographic use whatsoever! This problem had afflicted Sarah's map who was still doing her best to steer the lost boy's home. So she was having to navigate by memory having helped Clive do his recce of the trail about 3 weeks ago. However, that trip had been done on a nice dry day, not a cold wet miserable jet black evening. So now there was a completely detached group, which contained not only some of the more regular back markers, but a significant number of Marathon running Hashers. When they reached the substantial bridge carrying the canal, Sarah's memory told her she should go left before the bridge, and her map which had completely disintegrated couldn't tell her otherwise. In fact, the correct route was left immediately through the bridge, and up onto the canal. So the lost boys then spent many minutes scrambling about in mucky fields on the side of the canal that didn't have a towpath, and weren 't to reach the pub car park until 3 minutes to 10! Mr Ellis was grumbling about finishing at 25 past 9, so Lord knows what he's have said if he'd been one of the lost boys (and girls). Amazingly, when this sodden band eventually made it to the bar, most were amazingly cheerful. Cat noticed the pub was serving hot chocolate which she'd apparently been fantasising about on the way round, whilst Carol Culley was still on a high, having only just returned from Wembley having watched Southampton thrash Carlisle 4 – 1 in the Mickey Mouse Cup. Derek Clark went home beaming. He'd not got lost, but felt that this evening's Hash had every chance of ruining his chances of winning the 2011 Plank award. He said if only Adrian Long had been running, then his evening would have been perfect. Eventually, the frolics drew to a close and off home we went – eventually! The On Sec was in charge of steering, but she does occasionally linger in the pub talking to the last Hashers in the pub. So the two Tones and I got the car keys from Nick, and after a couple of minutes of heaving, grunting and contorting eventually managed to battle ourselves into the back of the new Beemer, just in time for Heather to extract the keys from us and fire up the V6. Reverse was engaged, the clutch dropped, and we shot forwards towards an 8 foot high 2 foot thick Millstone Grit wall! "Where's reverse on this thing?" said Heather. "Well, I've not got it!" replied her husband. I think Nick's motor may have 6 forward gears, so reverse may not be quite where any of us would expect it. Anyway, here's the link to tonight's route. 6.11 miles Map my Run reckons. Tuesday 23rd MarchA switch to the Greyhound at Ashley was made when Cliff realised that time didn't allow a proper investigation and trail laying for his first choice - the Knot Inn at Rushton Spencer. During this time the rain had eased to an occasional spit - though this did not affect the condition underfoot as we went off road. At One point we were running through a wooded area when the surface became almost as slick as ice with the wet clay finish. and towards the end of the trail we followed a foot path across several fileds and must have gained about 10 pounds (per foot) with the soil sticking to the trainers. However after a longish run in it was back tyo the pub for a change and a pint. Chips were on offer for those who wanted them. A goodish trail - I feel a little longer than the stated 10k but felt a lot better for it. and yet another missive from the roving reporter SB and his view from the pack - as opposed to me tonight with the view from the back.Hmmmmm....The name of the pub gave a clue to the attributes that would pay dividends with this hash. In the absence of Ken S and Rob S it was Paul J, Matthew C and Karen M who enjoyed this one the most - basically if you can run fast on a road then the run in was a delight. For the rest of us mere mortals "delight" wasn't the word on most peoples lips. A country mile of tarmac to end with, preceeded by a similar distance of the most glutinous mud you can imagine, took its toll on the pack - not helped by the fact that there appeared to be no checks at all in the last two miles! To be fair to Cliff W (who rarely puts a foot wrong when setting) he was bedevilled by higher powers - namely the weather and the local authority. Cliff is the classic "time poor" man and had had to resort to setting the trail on Tuesday afternoon, in the rain and alone. His plans started to go astray when a crucial footpath in Hale was found to be closed, forcing him to set a loop out to the golf course. Then on the run along the Bollin Valley (usually good fun but tonight downright dangerous with the mud causing the majority of the pack to crash at some stage) he was snookered by the only bridge across the river being closed by the health and safety police(becasue of apparent structual impediment). Tempted to cross himself, he exercised considerable restrain and remembered that 40-50 hashers crossing the said bridge in quick succession would probably result in a fatality. The resultant mid - setting change of plan meant he had little choice but to do a much larger loop out and that in turn meant the long run in. The weather also set in causing what little traction there was to dissolve beneath you - at one stage Dave A decided to skid into a tree. The tree took considerable offence and responded by knocking him down the river bank - narrowly avoiding an impromptu swim. All in all a run to be proud of if you survived intact. Cliff later revealed that when bending down to tie some paper he heard a forlorn cry of "fore", glanced up, and just had time to register a golf ball hurtle past his head with about 3 inches of clearance. He didn't linger for long.... So votes for the Plank award...? At this rate we'll have to nominate just about every run ! Good luck to all those running the Wilmslow Half, Coniston 16 and CTS Marathon/half and 10k - you know who you are! El Presidenté as well puts virtual pen to imaginary paper.What a novelty! The threat of rain on a Tuesday night for the first time in 2010. We've all got used to firm footing, because it's been the coldest winter since 1982/1963/1947, depending on where you live. But despite the fact that the normal procession of low pressure areas has returned to bumble over us, the ground is still hard because there's been no precipitation since last November, aside from the two lots of snow. In fact, that snow seems to have flattened the countryside. Having been victimised twice by the snow around Xmas, on coming to relay these two cancelled trails with Messrs Hack & Lever, it was astonishing to find just how much of our original markers were still in place virtually 3 months on. Even the chalk! Indeed many of the markers were more visible than they were originally, as the usual scruffy undergrowth from which I've suffered numerous scratches over the years, appears to have been pummelled into the earth by the snow. So a Hash with moisture would certainly be different. In fact, a mild dribble was all we suffered at the Greyhound, at least from the weather! As for the trail itself, well that was a slightly different kettle of porridge. Young Cliff was in charge. Before the off, he made the usual announcements no-one listens to, but I thought there was reference to "6 miles", and "I laid this trail this afternoon. " Also, he pressed a map into my hand, with a request "to look after the back." This is becoming a habit! Now it's not easy to gauge a trails length by gazing at a map you not seen before, as you jog along with drizzle smearing the plastic bag the routes been sealed in. Indeed, Hashers are now not always simply copying OS maps and merely drawing the route thereon, but some of us to cope with our declining faculties, are blowing our maps up to fit a piece of A4, which makes the route at first glance look huge. Cliff's map looked as though it was a standard 25,000 scale map, and if so I thought it looked a tad lengthy. So off we set, for a quick scurry across the posh Hale Golf Course (but only 9 holes), a sortie in front of the second mortgage costing rehab centre that is the local Priory, before scurrying into the Investment Banker heartland of Hale. Any link between those 3? Anyway, this presented a not to be spurned glorious opportunity for a few trail correcting bellows to steer the pack down the right routes, whilst hopefully disturbing the nocturnal nibblings of the local rich and famous. I love it! In fact, a little later in the piece, some of the front runners were apparently accosted by the actor Craig Charles enquiring what they were doing. Charles may be better known to you for his role as Lister in Red Dwarf. Well, hashing is no more weird than some of the activities Lister got up to. As a non soap watching TV viewer, I'm told Charles now appears in Coronation Street as a philandering taxi driver Regrettably our foray into millionaire's row was brief, whilst our meanderings down the Bollin Valley were not. However, since I was last down by the River Bollin, a number of the paths have acquired a hard footing. A good job too, as we have had the odd horror mud bath Hash down in those woods. Eventually, we emerged onto some tarmac, and there Adrian Long decided that given the time, we couldn't possibly be going further away from the pub! So twice he checked right, and of course he was wrong. That brought him to the back of the pack, where Peter Rose, Cat and I were doing our weekly presentation of the play, "How on earth can we keep up?" Cat had an excellent reason for a certain lack of speed, as the previous evening she'd run 18 miles as part of her pre-marathon training, and had seriously wondered about whether to walk this evening. Immediately, after leaving the Bollin Valley, we turned further away from the pub down a one Hasher wide path with a couple of stiles. As we know stiles stretch the pack out, so two checks later when we finally found a solid track, Adrian announced that his knees had had enough, and he was off back to the pub. Cat and Peter decided he might not be safe on his own, (yeah right!), so went with him! So, my looking after the back now became a matter of looking after El Presidente, for as Adrian's crew went right, the pack had long gone left, and I could only see one rapidly receding reflective jacket in front of me. I briefly debated joining the short cutting crew, but decided I'd better follow the main group on the "just in case they get lost principle." Unfortunately, from then on we seemed to have another of those cross country running Hashes, as the area just to the south west of Manchester Airport is not blessed with many footpaths and no roads at all. I eventually, courtesy of a couple of stiles, caught up with Mike Perks (on his 3rd Hash) and Bridget. But then two of those fields where you come out 2 inches taller than when you went in slowed me to a crawl. Eventually, I managed to get off my hands and knees, and finally when tarmac was eventually found, Bridget took pity on me, and we ambled pleasantly home together by just before 21.30. It then turns out that Cliff had had "a bit of trouble" whilst laying the trail. Apparently, his original plan worked fine on the map, but the ground disagreed! So with no time for a major overhaul, he had to work with what the countryside would allow, and ended up with a route that was what it looked – lengthy! Adrian & crew had inadvertently found the shorter alternative. Nicky nearly didn't get to have any alternatives, as she has now become a member of a very select Hash group, famously led by Roger Turner, namely the "Bugger, I went to the wrong pub!" group. Apparently, on arriving at the Three Greyhounds at Allostock, it became immediately apparent to her that either nobody else was going to Hash tonight, or she had two to many Greyhounds! An occupation threatening speedy drive to the right pub ensued, and an acquisition of a spare map enabled her to fully participate in the long version of this evening's entertainment. In the pub Martin Hack and Max were ruminating on Nicky's near disaster. Bearing in mind Roger's solitary appearance at the Romping Donkey when he should have been at the Romper some years ago, these two were considering the possibilities of trying to convince the pack we should start one Tuesday from a pub called the Romping Greyhound. Fortunately, the 1st April isn't a Tuesday for some years. My one great fear is that someone will suggest we start a Romping Greyhound award for such services to Cheshire Hashing. Here's the map link for the Greyhound for those interested. Mapmyrun.com P.S. Cliff says he thinks he may be an early contender for the Plank award. I couldn't possibly comment. Tuesday 16th MarchStewart is agin prompt with the quill this week to report on the trail in Northwich The Penny Black, Northwich.If Rob S. resumed normal service last week (even if it did mean his Achilles is once again "doing a Beckham") then this week El Presidenté reminded us all of why he is El Presidenté.
We all presumed (from previous Penny Black excursions) that the general area of travel would be to the muddy country park to the north. Matthew and Faye even came prepared with shiny new trail shoes (which, ever so sweetly, matched!) El Presidenté did well to suppress a snigger at the off for we headed south instead and an entirely firm underfoot run. And, no doubt to answer the recent complaints, not a stile in sight! After a series of confusing interlocking circles in the centre of town we struck out along the river and navigation. Don't ask me to descibe the route any better than that - at one point we ran along a stretch of the by-pass but frankly I was too busy getting sweat in my eyes to take notes - well marked checks meant the pace was quick but few complaints were heard. Such was the serpentine nature of the run that even Rob B. (who had the benefit of home turf knowledge) made some serious navigational blunders. And the final proof of El Presidenté's greatness - we were back, changed, and in the pub, pint in hand by 9.10pm after doing just less than 7 miles (well me and Rob B. any way - I too blundered!) Congratulations to Eleanor on her birthday - the cake didn't last long! - and to Brian for the presentation of his 1000th run trophy. Emma, who was doing her second run, was a little over-awed by the achievement - only 20 years to go and she too could share the spoils of success......... By general consensus an excellent hash! Tuesday 9th MarchThis week's report is kindly provided by Stewart Egerton Arms -Normal service was resumed this week with a return to form (in both senses) with Rob S. Of average length (the run that is, not Rob), with an acceptable number of stiles, decent weather and solid ground meant a fast feeling run with a correspondingly quick return to the pub. Possibly a little too fast ...but Rob has an ingenious method for satisfying all concerned (and again its nothing to do with his length) The pacier runners get to a check then have to double back to the back of the pack before surging to the check again - simple, effective and remarkably telling how many faster runners suddenly adopt a more sedate gait. Equilibrium suitably restored the main focus in the pub afterwardswas planning for the up coming Charity Night - if you don't have tickets for the 16th April get 'em now! The entertainment on offer promises to be unforgettable (even with years of therapy to help......!) Tuesday 2nd March 2010Derek set the trail tonight from the Appleton Thorn Pub at Appleton Thorn. Post-hash there were a number of mails going around regarding the severity of the trail - lack of maps etc. But I cannot comment fully as I made a tactical withdrawal at 8:45 when 1. I understood the options of the direction the hash was going. 2. I knew the state of my fitness after several weeks with the lurgi and finally 3.I knew where I was and that it was still a bit of a slog along the road back to the Thorn. Cowardly I know but as I got back at 9:15 and the first of the rest got back at 9:30 I felt that I had avoided a 1 ½ mile run-in. It also allowed me to make sure that the first 30 pints were ready and pulled as the pack got into the pub. As to the trail - we got under way fairly promptly given that Derek had a prepared speech on the flora and fauna of the countryside, the particular shade of mud and the tendency of farmers to brandish weapons at putative trespassers it almost gave a new style to hashing - Not so much a run in with Nature more Assisted Countryside. A quick trip down the back road and it was across the fields toward the motorway and the area where Cat had done her leg an injury a few years ago. But she got through without a problem tonight. Then over the mororway and by devious routes we passed near to Antrobus and Mr Hack's domicile. We diverted though across a feld that involved a substantial quantity of the slippery stuff and then into the woods. This was about the point I left and took 20 odd minutes to trundle along the straight road back to the pub. The rest of the pack though... Well some comments were that they had not expected to see signs declaring they were about to enter High Legh.. Before they headed back towards the bus depot and then back along the road to Appleton Thorn. El Presidenté adds his 5 bobs worthThorn, Appleton - 02.03.10 OK, where to begin? Which cliché to use? I could try 'All things change.' No, I don't think so. How about 'Life moves on.' No, that's just as bad. What I'm blithering on about, is that as time goes by (that's better), the way you look at life alters. Growing old brings new concerns to the frontal lobes, and buries old ones. When I first started Hashing in Cheshire, I used to enjoy conversations in the pub, and particularly in the car going home after drink had been taken, that bear little relationship to what's talked about now. In the last century our manly conversations, for there were initially no female hashers, would cover a wide range of testosterone sodden subjects like football, women, drunken work lunchtimes and other subjects that age and guilt has fortunately led to them being deleted from the brain's data banks. Now, we meander home and the subjects discussed include, low returns on our savings, how our grandchildren are growing up and the inordinate cost of care homes! Some of us oldsters are now even interested in the interest rates on Capital Protected Purchase Life Annuities. One of us even understands what they are! Apparently, last weeks run in Congleton didn't finish until about 21.30, and there were the odd mutterings, although the two trail layers steadfastly maintained it was only 6 miles, and that the very slippy ground was not their fault. Having said that some of our swifter Hashers seemingly felt it was an excellent run, presumably because it gave ample scope for them to display their navigational eccentricities. This week's trail from the Thorn at Appleton has produced the odd E Mail or three that have expressed a few concerns about the length of the route. Some of us didn't finish until 21.45. The Map my Run website reckons the trail was 7.36 miles long (link at the bottom). That's is longer than normal, but we have had even longer ones. Since December 2006, I've got a record of the length of over 120 trails. The longest we've endured was 7.68 miles, and the shortest, an anorexic 4.03. That's quite a wide range of distances, and to complete the statistical garbage, the average length of these 120 trails works out at 5.83 miles. Whilst laying the route from the Thorn, our intrepid trail layer did have the odd moment of concern, most notably when one of the local landowners disturbed his loo roll tying by discharging a shotgun past his left ear! The natives were clearly not friendly. I suspect that one of the main reasons for the long time it took us all to get round, was that curse of an efficient Hash, namely stiles, of which there quite a number on Tuesday. I hate the bloody things. As I get older (yes, he's banging on about his age again) these things get higher and take longer to negotiate. And when we have 40 odd Hashers trying to surmount these Beechers Brook obstacles, you end up with a queue. Nicky laid a trail from the Frozen Mop in Mobberley about 3 years ago, which took a geological age to get round because of the number of stiles. But the stile classic has to be Tony Higgins and Brian Burgess's route from the defunct Red Lion at Eaton last October. We finished at a relatively normal 9.15, but their trail was less than 4 ¾ miles long. They'd chosen some countryside where the fields were ones where I was 5 foot 10 when I went in, and 6 foot 1 when I gasped my way out. Even Stewart Bailey decided that a short cut towards the end would be prudent. The real killer this night was the stiles. Higgo reckoned there were 28 of them, and only 25 checks. Now if the pack gets delayed by just 60 seconds at each stile, you can see how quickly the beer recedes into the future. The following week, Roger Turner & I concocted a route from the Railway at Mobberley, which also finished at 9.15. The distance was 6.52 miles but with only 5 stiles. So whilst last Tuesday's route from the Thorn was long, it's hard to blame the trail layer for the curse of the stiles. Max says.. I did the trail from the Bridge at Burtonwood - 50 on trail - accused of 7.2 miles - included a pause to view another county acrosss a canal - back at pub 9:10. One stile and that you could walk round.. nuff said.One of the beauties of hashing is the way different Hashers see the countryside when they come to trail laying. How often have we heard the cry 'It's GOT to be this way!' and then how often it isn't! Inevitably, trails will have different characteristics and length reflecting the nature of the chosen area and the wishes of the person doing the laying. What I've never quite understood is we moan about trails that don't meet some mythical perfect standard, and then go and enthusiastically celebrate such trails by giving their creators the 'coveted' Plank award at the annual Dinner/Dance. Go figure! No dodgy trails, no Plank! No loss there then! Oops, nearly got started on a personal rant. Anyway, most of you will have seen Adrian Long's recent E Mail where he expressed his thoughts on last week's trail. Some of our more recent recruits may not know Adrian, but he did start running at Xmas 1983 & does appear to be slowly hashing his way back to more regular attendance. Good man! Well, the good news is that he has volunteered to set a trail on the next available Tuesday, which is the 13th April. I for one will make EVERY effort to make sure I am in attendance. Tuesday 23rd February 2010As I was stuffing myself at a Chinese restaurant in Manchester - courtesy the project I am working on - I was missing tonight But Stewart has generated a report of the proceedings The Lord Mountbatten - Congleton 23/2/2010A vintage hash from Colin and Peter which rewarded the 33 runners and walkers who braved the icy gusts and persistent snow. After a lengthy briefing about how we had to take care in certain areas (much ignored to most peoples cost)we set off into the teeth of a cold wind and ominous sky. Cat exercised her charms and persuaded the hares to slow things up so she could get changed after her arrival just as the pack left. What proved to be a circular run took the pack up to skirt Astbury Mere, with checks being well marked. From there it was onto the canal through the falling snow and to the first of a couple of impromptu musters. A combination of quick checking by the leading runners - Ken S. keeping to the Hash Dinner vote and carrying his Plank with no obvious effect on his speed -and poor conditions underfoot meant the pack kept getting very strung out. The conditions worsened when the Hares took us off into the fields to the West of The Cloud - Peter swore they had been coated in 3 inches of crisp snow when the trail was set - sadly by Tuesday the snow was treacle disguised as mud. Rumour has it that Ken S. used the said plank to great effect surfing the muddy downhills and utilising it as a trekking pole for the treacherous climbs! Eventually hitting tarmac on the Buxton road we were able to rid ourselves of the muddy manacles attached to our ankles and headed for home. Passing through Congleton Park a first timer - welcome Becky! - informed Adrian L (who had twisted her arm into coming) that she would never believe a word he told her in the future. Assured by Adrian that her 10k runs in Tatton Park would mean the Hash held no fears for her, Becky was a little "bemused" by the amount of mud, weather and running time! But she vowed to return so we think she secretly enjoyed herself! Back in the car park some felt this run could merit at least a nomination for the Plank award - but that may be harsh - the weather played no small role in the nights fun. On the basis that it will stick in the minds of the those who endured it, its more of a classic than a clunker. Personally I think Colin and Peter have substantial holding in Unilever - the amount of washing powder that will be needed to shift the layers of mud welded to my kit will see their share price rocket! Tuesday 16th February 2010Tonight I walked. I have missed a couple of weeks down to a throat - followed by cough and cold so I am a bit short of excercise. This was Allan and Dave's rematch due to the canceelation due to Ice in January and was from the Red Lion in Winsford. Jenny L conducted the walkers out alongside the Weaver navigation for a reasonably dry 3 ½ miles before we headed back to the pub for adrink and -more chips. We seem to have got into a chip mode recently - what used to be a pleasant change has turned into a habit. I got the impression that the running trail - at 5 ½mile and 35 checks was also appreciated by the pack. Tuesday 26th January 2010Tonight was the first trail set by Matthew and Faye - who cam enew to the hash last year. they were assisted in this by Victoria covering the back and probably Lola the dog should have a name check as well. This was set from the Crown at Peover - a reasonably frequented territory as we have had the hash birtday trails from there on several occasions. Matthew did the sensible thing this week and asked for a show of hands on for chip-eaters. This to hopefully sidestep the issue of the previous week where many chips were provided but not all hashers wanted them. This may have contributed to the request for the few remaining hashers in the pub at the end to make up the shortfall on paying the pub bar tab. (we must get back into the habit and pay som of the bill after the first round) However - back to the trail. The turn out was excellent - between the runners and walkers a grand total of 53 were accounted for even with Carol arriving at the last minute. Off we went turning right out of the car park and then crossing the road and down the track. Although we had run this area regularly the hares managed to produce a trail that kept the pack interested. It is often the case in countryside you know fairly well to get it completely wrong as the hare didn't set it the way 'you' would have done. A very good first trail and look forward to their second later in the spring Tuesday 19th January 2010Well back to a proper hash. set by ken and Nigel from the Drovers just beyond Over Peover. This was the pub Rob set from a couple of years ago when it was shut and also where El Presidenté had his motor stolen. It has changed hands several times since. A goodly turn out on a night when the ice had all cleared and although I arrived intwo layers as soon as the side wind hit me getting out of the car I stuck another top on. Just as well as this wind kept things cool all evening. Tuesday 12th January 2010We got out. Not a hash trail as such as the situation at the weekend looked very much like the previous week but Simon decided that he would plan a walk and a running route. He would take the walkers out and if the weather had improved sufficiently the Rob s had volunteered to guide the quicker hashers about. As it happened there was a rise in temperature and we had been fortunate that after the snow had fallen it got quite cold. this meant that the snow stayed powdery and did not easily compact to a rink. So for the first time in a while we had snow that got dirty. Overall it was a good trot - those who were quicker did brief shuttle runs to the back of the pack at 'check' points so we stayed together. Tuesday 5th January 2010This unfortunately was axed due to the heavy snow that fell on top of the slick ice. |
