Category Archives: CH3 – Write Ups

Some runs are easier to sum up than others 😉

Alice – Let It Be
This classic CH3 offering from Sticky Wicket and the brain concussed Cuckold had almost everything perfectly right. In fact, it was a beautiful trail shared only by an exclusive group of x- cuntry aficionados as runner numbers are somewhat down. Forest, open woodland, flooded paths, a raging stream to jump, well signed, decent checks and Vs up til about 5 km.

I started out slowly yet feeling energised by the beauty of the forest. It wasn’t too hot or humid and the pack’s calls and tricky checks kept us mostly together. After a km or so, Cuckold ran back past us having completed his haring task. More of that later. He looked sweaty but fisted each runner as he passed. (Steady BMY)

I chose wrong at every opportunity and soon dropped back to a fast walk pace with ABB, Sqrooter and sometimes Shithouse close by. Poo and Chuckles were running well it seemed and Piggee was putting his best foot forward. ABB was parallel running at one point and ran into a barb wire fence. Not good.

The Long and Winding Road
From about 5 km on we gently headed up a hill on a long clear path and I was expecting V or circles, however there was but one, already dealt with, and straight up. Nary left or right we turned, on and up, on and up, short flattish stretches every now and again to start jogging….

Help!
At 6 km plus I felt a bit weak and light headed. There must be a drop off the hill down toads the road, a road, something that would take us back?? I still had some water but was tired. Not as tired and emotional when I saw Chucky coming back down the trail towards me with a look on his face that could have cured ham. He brandished a piece of A4 and read it’s scarce believable message. This is a fuck up. The trail stops here. Return on the path you came back to the A site.

Return to Sender
We are about 70 mins and 7 km into our labours and it was getting towards dusk at 6:20pm ish already. We all about turned and trooped backwards, there may have been a bigger whinger than me, but doubtful. It was getting darker, we still had 6 km to retrace and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Luckily Piggee’s tech helped us cut a km loop plus off with a short path back to the out trail and we traipsed back in a raggle taggle gaggle towards safety and beer and a bloody long cold icing for those two reprobates.

Doing checks the wrong way was a bit tricky here and there and the forest was now pretty black. Suddenly and thankfully we were off paper but there was a light, a dirt road and we were nearly back. Sqrooter followed paper back into the bush and everyone else headed towards the lighted path.
Frozen Dick met the FRBs in his truck and we only had a few hundred metres till justice was served. Cold.

Things We Said Today
Why the hares didn’t say: We could find a trail back home. Run for 30 mins then come back same way….we never found out. They panicked, they were tired, they were inexperienced and they were iced. Cuckold should probably stay away from ice for a bit, eh Pig Shit?

Cheerio to Shit House and welcome back Frozen Dick, the lackadaisical hare razor.
On On!
Alice

Qudos to ABB and his henchmen in BKK for organising a highly enjoyable outstation run across the Chao Praya in the middle of nowhere. Meet up at Red Planet was on time and Poo managed to convince Alice and Scooby to pay Male Hash membership fees too. The BTS journey to Bang Wa was not without its funny moments:certain CNX identities struggling to understand the cash for coins windows and how to put their ticket in the barrier. One sickly Antipodean took three minutes, two machines and one schoolgirl to accomplish the task of passing the barrier. Couldn’t go under it…

Once arrived at Bang Na, Mr Squirlyface was there to meet us and sort us into passing taxis for the short ride to the pier. On the motocy ferry across the wide Chao Praya where Noriega and ABB were waiting.

Water was bought, hare brief simple, and we were off, running on white strips and checks were circles on small yellow notelets with a few yellow strips to pull off and scatter.

Down the road we went and into the little communities on the isthmus, running on elevated concrete boardwalks above the primeval swamp and soon through some lower lying jungly bits. HRA, Jungle Chim and Pigshit seemed to be doing the FRB work but never got far ahead as the circles were sometimes tricky and other parts seemed to lack a strip or five of paper. Walking with Sticky and Scooby to start with, Noriga and Mr Squirlyface joined us and then Scooby dropped back and the locals with him. Plan seemed to be if SD died, he’d phone ABB and Noriega would tell a motorcycle guy where to take the stiff.

Some of the jungle trails started to cross slimy creeks and soon most hashers had soaking shoes and dark oozing shit up their legs. The 3 foot transition from jungle to boardwalk and vice versa was extremely trying with my groin/lower tummy strain issues but walking at a fair luck and even slow jogging seemed OK.

After about 5 km we came out of the jungly bit onto a raid and voila, a beer stop manned by the inimitable Virginia Slim aka Vagina Slime.

Everyone headed back towards the swamp despite an opt out easy option. Everyone apart from Sticky’s phone, who decided to take an unknown trail and was never seen again. Here we got stuck. It was getting dark, the trail crossed a creek to a circle. Ahead Piggee found a terrible pole bridge over water but no paper. Everywhere else was just shiggy, no obvious paths.

Tension rose, the hare was dissed and Piggee called the Canuck tormenter for advice. Back and left into thick jungle we went and over some horrid grass or reed covered path, hacked through shiggy with nasty hidden drops under the greenery. The VC would have been proud of this section. I was not really enjoying this bit, we were all tired, it was dusk, gloomy and we’d chugged a Tiger. Along an invisible path thru bushes above a stream we continued until some welcome signs of civilisation, lights, concrete sleepers to run on and then a road. Finally the end.
Cold beer in coolers, some recovery time, Dunkin Donuts suddenly joined us having run the whole trail 30 mins behind us, and into a tiny dragontail fully laden with ten, to cross back over the wide, dark river to Klong Toey.

A lively and good humoured circle in the Sanitation Dept’s yard, followed by tasty local fayre at the IMF restaurant back in the market area. Further details of the night’s activities are unavailable. Qudos to ABB, Noriega/go/gay, Mr Squirlyface, Virginia Slim and DD. An excellent outstation run although numbers were down on last year. And there was no tee shirt. A great reintroduction to H3 in LoS. Taste buds whetted.

And so we convene at a crematorium out along Canal Road under a pall
of mercury dust and ashes from the day’s funeral pyre. A timely
reminder that from dust we arise and to dust we return and all that
jazz. Didn’t CW’s last run start at a crematorium? Anyhow the hare
gave us a brief brief — strips, shreds and yes, International
Standards by golly — and we were away.

Nice trails out this way. I started off very slowly and needed to keep
stopping. Felt like someone had Mickeyed me a diuretic. When I reached
the back of the pack I found Abominable Blue Balls paused and
surveying the situation and “quite fancying” a trail to the right. Not
in such a big way as to run down it, mind.

You will have to forgive your correspondent for not seeing much of the
action from here on. I was a good distance behind the FRBs and only
met other hashers when they were returning from checking circles and
false trails. Something had to be working well for the hare today
because the pack was pretty much held together whenever I came across
it. By this time I was a tad concerned about the rumblings in the
distance and what these might entail. Couldn’t pick up pace though.

After a while of slow solo shuffling I caught sight of Sloppy Rod
hobbling and dragging his ankle behind him. He said he was at the edge
of a gulley, taking in the view? I dunno, but the ground gave in
beneath him! Landed on his ass. Now, I personally have had experiences
such as this so kudos for pressing on with nary a whinge.

On then, trying to keep ahead of what was coming. Following broken
checks correctly and yet screwing up false trails! I had no idea how
much further I might need to go and then the rains came. Sudden and
torrential. Thoughtful haring meant only one or two shreds of paper
for an awful long time. And it was getting dark. When I got to the
temple wall it was dark and there were three ways to check. Was the
circle washed away? I went left first for a good distance but nothing.
Came back to find guess who? Mr Poo, almost as clueless as me. Next I
took the dirt track, nothing and back. Kwazi Moto arrived on the scene
and went the way I just came from. I gambled on third time lucky and
set off, again nada. Came across no hash name Mark and we tried the
dirt track again. On we went, and on, and on, through lightning and
sheet rain until we came to Canal Road. Result. But which way? No hash
name Mark rode in on his bicycle so he thought he might recognize the
turn off CR. Took us 40 minutes.

Back at the A bucket to find the hare out looking for hashers. He
didn’t find anyone, but how about this? Sloppy Rod limped in using an
improvised crutch made from a branch he hacked down.

At the start of the run my mind I idly wondered what it would be like
to go up in a puff of smoke, and at the end I nearly did. Cheers Chuck
Wao for a memorable set, hypothermia notwithstanding.

Out past Tiger Kingdom to the Sunspot family compound, a sylvan setting and a new runsite for this hasher. Off we went with Bellydancer spurting on ahead, and on he went missing the first bit of paper! Out then along the road to a mooban with a circle check and maybe six possible ways to go. This was going to take some working out. I went straight ahead and explored a couple of avenues and the rest of the pack fanned out looking elsewhere but no joy. Nothing from nobody. ABB even bravely put glory before prudence and ventured onto the narrow, slippery pathway along the khlong. I began to have a niggling feeling that I may not have traveled far enough and backtracked and Oops! found the trail. Gotta be 200 meters that one. I backtracked again to make sure someone somewhere would hear my On! On! And sure enough there was ABB loitering on a corner so all was well again.

From here on there were some nice muddy trails. My shoes got nice and gunky. And heavy. Didn’t stop me from nailing a couple of checks. They call me the breeze. And I prefer Skynyrd’s version. Then came the false trail and I took it. Into the jungle I went a good 200 meters until I got to a teensy FT. Back and out and Mr Poo and Chuck Wao were motoring past and giggling because they didn’t even see paper here. On I followed.

To the RICE FIELDS! Here was a circle check that did not appear to give the pack many options. CW went right, I went left. No sign of paper but I gingerly explored along a few berms close to the edge of he paddy fields but found nothing and came back. CW meanwhile had had an encounter with an angry farmer, who probably had a rifle, possibly with a scope, and returned to the circle check. The pack was pretty much all together at this point. CW felt that his way past the farmer was the likeliest direction so I suggested him and me make a break for it before the farmer could react. What’s the worst that could happen? The farmer picks off Kwazi Moto?

Sometimes, however, an intrepid individual with uncommon valor steps forward to save the day. A faint call of On! On! could be heard in the distance so back around and through the bushes the perplexed group of hashers traipsed. And what sight for sore eyes greeted us 500 meters away in the middle of the paddy field? Only the figure of Mr Sticky Wicket. Did he really shout, “Forward, The Light Brigade, Half a League, Onward…”? We were going home. Still a lot of berm running though until we reached the road.

Thailand is the world’s largest exporter of rice and has 12 million hectares of farmable land under cultivation. The rice grown is jasmine rice, a classier rice for them that knows their rice, but it doesn’t give such a great yield. Could somebody, perhaps​ … ​Sunspot, get in touch with the Thai Ministry of Agriculture to suggest growing pilau rice instead in future, which I prefer anyway, and then we might get back a bit more land for hashing.

Anyhow, more danger ahead. Maybe a kilometer of busy blacktop before we forked right and came to an interesting check when I thought we must have been very close to the A bucket by now. Piggy and CW left me third dibs so I moseyed right along a dirt trail and lo and behold paper! Across the aqueduct. I did not enjoy this one bit but the views were nice. Some more road running got us home.

Somebody had the distance at 10.5K, so well done hares for putting in so much effort to make a memorable run.

(Courtesy of Cuckold)

Out past Tiger Kingdom to the Sunspot family compound, a sylvan
setting and a new runsite for this hasher. Off we went with
Bellydancer spurting on ahead, and on he went missing the first bit of
paper! Out then along the road to a mooban with a circle check and
maybe six possible ways to go. This was going to take some working
out. I went straight ahead and explored a couple of avenues and the
rest of the pack fanned out looking elsewhere but no joy. Nothing from
nobody. ABB even bravely put glory before prudence and ventured onto
the narrow, slippery pathway along the khlong. I began to have a
niggling feeling that I may not have traveled far enough and
backtracked and Oops! found the trail. Gotta be 200 meters that one. I
backtracked again to make sure someone somewhere would hear my On! On!
And sure enough there was ABB loitering on a corner so all was well
again.

From here on there were some nice muddy trails. My shoes got nice and
gunky. And heavy. Didn’t stop me from nailing a couple of checks. They
call me the breeze. And I prefer Skynyrd’s version. Then came the
false trail and I took it. Into the jungle I went a good 200 meters
until I got to a teensy FT. Back and out and Mr Poo and Chuck Wao were
motoring past and giggling because they didn’t even see paper here. On
I followed.

To the RICE FIELDS! Here was a circle check that did not appear to
give the pack many options. CW went right, I went left. No sign of
paper but I gingerly explored along a few berms close to the edge of
the paddy fields but found nothing and came back. CW meanwhile had had
an encounter with an angry farmer, who probably had a rifle, possibly
with a scope, and returned to the circle check. The pack was pretty
much all together at this point. CW felt that his way past the farmer
was the likeliest direction so I suggested him and me make a break for
it before the farmer could react. What’s the worst that could happen?
The farmer picks off Kwazi Moto?

Sometimes, however, an intrepid individual with uncommon valor steps
forward to save the day. A faint call of On! On! could be heard in the
distance so back around and through the bushes the perplexed group of
hashers traipsed. And what sight for sore eyes greeted us 500 meters
away in the middle of the paddy field? Only the figure of Mr Sticky
Wicket. Did he really shout, “Forward, The Light Brigade, Half a
League, Onward…”? We were going home. Still a lot of berm running
though until we reached the road.

Thailand is the world’s largest exporter of rice and has 12 million
hectares of farmable land under cultivation. The rice grown is jasmine
rice, a classier rice for them that knows their rice, but it doesn’t
give such a great yield. Could somebody, perhaps Sunspot, get in touch with the Thai Ministry of Agriculture to suggest
growing pilau rice instead in future, which I prefer anyway, and then
we might get back a bit more land for hashing.

Anyhow, more danger ahead. Maybe a kilometer of busy blacktop before
we forked right and came to an interesting check when I thought we
must have been very close to the A bucket by now. Piggy and CW left me
third dibs so I moseyed right along a dirt trail and lo and behold
paper! Across the aqueduct. I did not enjoy this one bit but the views
were nice. Some more road running got us home.

Somebody had the distance at 10.5K, so well done hares for putting in
so much effort to make a memorable run.

And so we find ourselves at Wat Doi Khum in the warm sunshine to find
out if Belly Dancer and Scooby Doo will live down to expectations. We
in the songthaew were a little lost, and in one case a tad tetchy –
you know who you are Pigshit – until we found BD pratting around and
hiding his HHH sign in long grass! An early challenge from the hare?
Who knows? A sizeable turnout of twenty-plus hashers, with visitors
and returnees, made it to the A bucket though ready for some action.
Hare and coHare exchanged some furtive glances and settled on 6K
today. Sounded like bullshit for some reason.

Off along the road then, to a junction, I turned right, just to warm
up really, I kinda new it was the wrong way. Everyone else up a leafy
trail. I caught up to witness a lot of time-consuming milling around
at the next circle check that had a boatload of possible trails to
follow. And a dozen or so lazy lemmings. Does Nothing and most
everybody else doing nothing. It’s a common misconception, by the way,
that lemmings zig along and commit mass suicide by jumping off a
cliff, or not, in this case. Any mishaps are caused by their migratory
behavior — a result of their strong biological urges! Fortunately, we
don’t know anybody like that. Oh, er, hang on a minute.

Anyhow, I took a punt here and went straight not knowing that Anal
Afterbirth was ahead. After 150 meters, then 200 meters, then, yes,
250 meters, we thought we may have stumbled across the intrail. But we
pressed on, expecting to meet everyone else head on in about half an
hour. Someone, somewhere had found paper waay baack however. An all
round interesting check for the hashing connoisseur that one. Product
of a screwup or not.

Was the hill next? Turned out this was a 975 meter elevation. I
enjoyed the company of Sloppy Rod for this lung buster and at the top
was a V-check. 50/50 this one so I went left. 300 meters, I swear, to
a Back Check. I called it as written. Not enough information for
Sloppy as it turns out. He asked me to repeat it 7 times! He was only
happy when I called Check Back! Now that’s just extracting the urine
after that lung buster, Bozo.

Running with Punnany from then on through the shig and on to the
temple. Chuck Wao and Pigshit some distance ahead at this stage. Out
of earshot anyway, funnily enough. I forgot we were going to see some
powder and spent some time pfaffing around behind someone’s house
until Punanny worked out the real steps we needed. These took us down,
and then down some more on the original pre-roadway steps, to the
welcome sight of Scooby scribing the On In. Now, I did hear a minor
complaint about there being unmarked trails to follow after the On In,
but this hasher could see the songthaew, the beer, and you know why?
Because he looked!

Over 8K for some runners today. Today there were no expectations,
because nobody wanted disappointment. But well done hares for
surprising us with a good run.