Category Archives: CH3 – Monday

The football field – again? That is 3 runs in a week… And with the trails being crisscrossed with paper, amazingly it was the 2nd time a figure of 8 was attempted within a few days! Figure of 8s are hard to pull off, and again there were moments of confusion – but that is later on…

A decent turnout appeared – largely due to the knowledge that a national holiday meant it was the only place to get a beer! Bone Hur pointed us off towards the corner of the carpark, which meant we had to go to the road, round in a bit of a loop before going back towards the hills… Ominously…

I found myself trailing Sloppy Rod, Chuckie, Mr. Poo and Semen Soars as we started climbing, and as if the gentle incline wasn’t enough, the evil hare cut us 90 degrees to the right where it was much steeper. An evil incline that left me gasping and close to vomiting at the top. As we descended I saw Poo and Chuckie, but Sloppy was away on a mission.

As we intercepted the trails from Saturday, Sloppy finally got one wrong and it was Chuckie that lead the way up yet another hill to a circle check at the top. Of course I only know there was a circle check at the top because I was told about it – I thought better of it and instead cut along the bottom and was eventually caught by Chuckie as we crossed over the out trail and jogged back into the circle site, complete with fantastic rope swing into the lake.

Good Tuna dinner, and good circle by Superman.

OnOn

With precise directions – HRA ensured we all made it to the run site – despite this Dutchman Dog Shit had to have a little moan about the signs as Humperdick was taking a holiday from complaining. A still recovering (from Jungle Chim’s attempt to kill him with hair growth potions) was showing true Hash dedication by collecting the Hash Cash and most importantly – bringing the beer! Turkish Delight was also early at the site – bending my ears about Myanmar …. hummm

With modest turn out – and Chuckie heading back to bed, HRA went into the hare brief as Superman arrived. Superman has his expert strategy of turning up just as we are heading out – then while he’s changing gets to see the optimal point for some parallel running. Humperdick led the On Out down the road, but with FRB’s thin on the ground – I took off to get the first check wrong. Horny Monkey, Jungle Chim, Skid Mark and Humperdick led the early pack – and HRA had done a good job with the checks keeping us nicely bunched together and out of the festering cess pools that Skiddy would have surely sent us through. [This run site being so close to Skid Mark will no doubt be reused in much more punishing ways I fear].

At Skiddy Stix #4 (or was it 5) Horny Monkey, Jungle Chim, Skid Mark leapt the small ravine but Humperdick wanted to keep his front spot, so ‘lost’ his glasses – nice trick and seen this before used by BmY – while he ranted about not to step on his 7000 Baht glasses – Dog Shit, Turkish Delight and even Frozen Dick caught the pack up – I heard Frozen tell us “we’re pathetic” – perhaps he was right – so off over the ravine I took off on about the 6km mark – where the hell was the end of this 6.5km run?

Racists Horny Monkey and Jungle Chim then went into High School X-country training with each other – with Horny coaching Jungle in down the final 2km of road – with Turkish and Humperdick just behind. I came in on 1hr 15 for the 8.2 km run – Skid had 8.9 km on his GPS, Frozen came in not long after with 7.1km and Sups – well sometimes parallel running takes you to the wrong road and you need a bike ride back, so he too probably did more than 8km! A long but good run – I enjoyed as its the first run been able to get into for a while.

The circle was preceded by stomach lining sarnies – which works well after a decent run – then HRA led the circle. Even with lower than we’ve got used to numbers – the circle came to life after a few beers and all but Frozen (who’s off scouting Lanna V) headed onto the OnOnOn. Dog Shit earned the Wings by reminding HRA that they needed to be given out. Thanks HRA for a good workout and fun evening!

OnOn BD

Let’s start backwards. Was Supeman at the 888? Did Supeman go out with us for the 888 onon? Yes, Jungle Chim !! Yes, to both questions. Superman(HRA) was there but Supeeeeman was not. WOW, you talk abut short term memories.

The 888 Hash finished with a night of drinking and eating. We drank and had to fight with the termites for the food. However, the tables were turned as the Thais started collecting the termites to be eaten. Not for me, but I hoped they enjoyed each and every one.

Off we go, running in Lampang. Home now to Jungle Chim. Did he set the trail? No, that was left to Skid Mark and Superman. God, what could be in store for us with these two? The setting was aroung a nice lake (water = Skiddie) and the sky was threating for open. Off we go, circle checks, Skiddie checks and a BEER stop. At the beer stop half decided to walk back because of the late time and others FRBs were off and hashing after their beer stop. Again, circle checks, Skiddie sticks and a lasting finish around the lake.

Skiddie” I don’t understand, why are you all wet?” “We swam to the ON IN sign”, said HRA. “YOU what”, said Skiddie and Superman. “That was a Skiddie check!” “We know” said Lumberjack Off. “We were to tired to go back around, so we swam”, said Mr Poo. What a crazy bunch of guys. Swimming to the ON IN I understand they were lead to the water by Turkish Delight. I guess he is the Pied Piper of Chiang Mai Hashing.

Where is Chuck WOW. Walking back to the A bucket. But, why ???? Superman and Skiddie set a trail through the creek, and there was no dry land for Chuckie. Poor Chuckie, walking back to A bucket. Those two hares did not treat you right did they, Chuckie. I heard Chuckie saying , I’ll get even, Just you wait and see. Just you wait and see. And I believe him.

Run #888 was a mini outstation and enjoyed by all, even Frozen Dick. That’s right he was back for the on on, because Superman and Skid Mark made him get in the car and ride back to the A bucket ( Did they pick up Chuckie? NOOOOO)
But Chuckie still walks faster, than FD rides in the car.

(Courtesy Brown Finger)

Two weeks ago, good old Skid gallantly stepped up to the Mark at short notice to set a run for those
of us who were not fortunate enough to be joining our brother hashers on the Burma outstation. I
recall it well. It was very long, lots of circle checks, lots of shiggy, and a number of water crossings
with swirling depths the like of which I had never before experienced. And then there was the on-on
at one of the two German restaurants that Skiddie likes to frequent. What I remember most, though,
is how much I enjoyed that particular run; it made a welcome change, but not the kind that I would
want to experience every week, and Skid Mark agreed, not for a long time hence, he said – too long,
too wet, too shiggy to do again anytime soon . . .

So, we came to the Skid Mark / Tulips run with hope of something different, maybe a short, dry,
scenic run, with the odd gentle hill to keep the heart rate up. After all, he wouldn’t be doing the
same again for a long time . . . No he wouldn’t, would he?

As we set off on strangely familiar terrain, the two craftiest of all FRB’s, Graven and Chucky Doo,
stayed at the back, conserving energy, waiting for the first few checks to be kicked out for them. Did
they have inside info, I was thinking? Is this going to be a long one after all? As I was drifting away on
a cloud of ominous, ugly imaginings, a nervous Humperdick led the way, yelling for me to pass him
– he was getting a nose bleed from the pressure of leading the pack – but I thought I would further
his FRB education and let him do the checking up front. And to my surprise, and I expect to his, he
got them all right – well right until Chucky and Graven decided to do something for a change; they
breezed gently passed us all as we checked a circle about 3ks into the run and hit true trail without
breaking sweat – devious bastards.

So by then I was pretty sure that the trail would be long; Gravy doesn’t usually hit the front until half
way, so it had to be at least 6k, didn’t it? But what about the terrain, would we be getting our feet
wet like last time. The answer to that, dear hashers, is most definitely yes. Off we went across acre
after acre of wet rice fields, thankfully on trails that seemed not to destroy the farmer’s crop, where
only our plates of meat got wet, nothing more delicate higher up. So maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as
last time . . .

And through more of the endless green and wet fields we went. We were running on strips of white
paper fixed to the greenery at around chest height. It was a very visible trail and on several occasions
we were able to see the paper hanging far away on the true trail from the check itself. We began to
play an amusing game of I Spy With My Little Eye . . . And then we hit a Wimp Rambo split; I knew
things were only going get much worse when I saw the wily Graven slip off the pack and take the
Wimp trail dragging Angry Inch with him. What the F. . .? Surely he must have inside info and didn’t
want to run the risk of not getting back alive! My already grim imaginings for the rest of the trail
were growing gloomier by the second.

And so it came to pass that for all the hare’s protestations that he wouldn’t do it again, not at least
for some time to come, we came upon a set of lovely orange Skiddie Sticks, oh joy. But the pack
was close together, and we all began to search back on the trail. But where the hell was it? Through
abandoned, overgrown, shiggied concrete roads we ran, checking, checking, but we couldn’t find
true trail, and after five minutes or so we were beginning to think we never would and that we
would have to wing it back to the A. Ah, but thank god for eagle-eyed Shit House, who spied a thin
strip of white hanging from a bush . . . but on the other side of a horrible, slimy, dirty, rat-infested,

shit-filled dyke, where undoubtedly vast shoals of those very small fish that swim up your penis
were lying in wait for an unwary hasher to pass through. But hold on, this might not be so bad after
all; Skiddy had given us rope and there was a place that we might, just might be able to cross. Well,
we had no choice but to try or fail the trail, and we weren’t going to do that. HRA, Chucky, Mr Poo
appeared to get across with a lot of stretching and pulling but with only minor damp-damage. But, of
course, as my turn came around the whole bridge-type thing collapsed under my enormous weight
and there I was, yet again, up to my fat armpits in watery crap, with little slippery thingies trying to
find a way into my underpants. Right, enough said about the water crossing, the type that we were
definitely not going to do again anytime soon . . .

We headed for home . . . surely we would be heading for home now . . . More rice fields, more
wetness of the feet, more shiggy, more distance until Chucky, Mr Poo and I fell upon a circle check
off of which we found a single piece of paper, hanging from a tree, leading us over a bridge, but
there wasn’t any more paper. What the F . . .?

We had been hoodwinked! HRA, Horny Asshole and Alice caught us up while we were sniffing the
trees on the other side of the bridge, and found trail, and they were off like weaselly little ferrets
chasing hares down a hare hole (do hares have holes?). As I began to follow the sly, slimy, rats up
front, I caught site of the cars at the A, so I relaxed and tried to catch up with Alice for a chat on the
way in, but feeling my heavy breath on his delicate neck he decided to run for home . . . unsociable
racing bastard!

Anyway, so Skiddie, with the help of Tulips, had done exactly what he said he wasn’t going to do
again, at least not in the near future. It turned out to be a long run (about 7.5k), a very wet one, one
full of shiggy and rice fields . . . but I guess it was – after I had showered of sorts and changed out of
my fishy pants – a largely enjoyable run, and the circle was fun, and despite early resistance Chuck
Wao did eventually take the circle to lash the hares to shreds with his ever-more-savage tongue.

And then, it was off to a German restaurant . . . again, but the one that we didn’t go to after Skiddies
last run. And it was great . . . again; pork roll, sausage, ham, ice cream, as much as you could eat, and
there was “Das Boot”, and Mr Poo had Fishy Fingers to his right who dedicated himself to drinking as
much of the Chang inside the boot as he possibly could, and Mr Poo had to pay for it, twice, and at
last the elusive Graven had to pay for one too – yipeeee! And then Fishy Fingers fell over at the Hash
Pub, absolutely pissed out of his tiny Pee-wee Herman head.

Great stuff Skiddy / Tulips! Let’s do it all again, but later, hey? Much later, hey? Give the boys a
sodding break, hey!

Courtesy Alice:-

Wet Wet Wet

What do Skidmarks, hashes out Sankampaeng way and German food have in common? LIQUID! Both kinds in fact – the type you wash in and the type that buggers your liver. And both were much in evidence last Monday.

The extreme distance from CNX meant Superman was late but we missed the rain showers over the city. Despite that, most were pretty sodden by close of play.

Call Me

Skiddie’s hare brief was interupted by a call from Snail Trail so even more ice time for the half German was assured. The rope and machetes used by the hares in their trail laying were brandished and a collective tightening of sphicters from the pack ensued.

The run was flat, soggy and often devious. Humperdick confounded his critics from the off with correct decisions at check after check and only relinquished his FRB status when the trail finally crossed some streams and rivers at nasty points rather than just making circle checks along one bank or the other but continuing straight in the main.

Chucky, Brown Finger, HRA and even yer ‘umble scribe shared leading duties in turn along and thru the paddies until the Skiddie sticks to end all Skiddie sticks bunched us up, stopped us dead and chewed most of us up!

The Water is Wide

The pack checked for ages along the right side of a stream to no avail when suddenly paper was spotted on the other bank. Two bits infact, altho no-one wanted to believe it.

ChuckWao and Bus Bitch showed great agility to get over using SM’s green rope and two steep branches in place from about half way across. HD did similar, using his reach to good effect, his huge bulk fatally weakening the smaller branch alas! HRA just ploughed into the drink and Horney Monkey followed soon after. Fishy Finger was spritely, I fell in as the smaller branch snapped and Dogshit was seen thru the ordeal by the public spirited FF.

Back in the circle Doggie was outed by Poo for having a boy band ring tone. Tiptoe and Skidmarks were condemned for being two half Germans put together to make too many Germans. Blanks have been drawn about the rest of the circle until Gunter’s German Sausage On On, with the boot doing the rounds and some very hetero drinking from Fish Finger and others. All in all a challenging, pretty creative run with a variety of water crossings, some of them feasible! The ONON food and rehydration topped off a superb male hash.

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I teamed up with In & Out for a live haring. The comments I’ve heard were positive, and it seemed to go to plan – despite their best efforts the hounds couldn’t catch us – with Graven putting in more effort than anyone else. Looking at Graven’s GPS evidence he did over double the distance, he was only on trail for about half a click, despite this he still found the beer stop in time for a drink, and came very close to intercepting the hares!

Any comments?
***Brown Finger’s thoughts!
There was a great deal of interest in this live hare run. Even the smog-suffering Mr. Poo decided to drag himself away from the safety of an air conditioned environment to participate in the fun. The talk in the songthaew was tactical, with the expectant result being an extra large Frankfurter rammed between the butt cheeks of the hares when we inevitably caught them. A strategically inserted Brown Finger was also a much favoured (flavoured?) implement.
But we hadn’t reckoned on having a turncoat in our midst. Apparently, Superman had vowed in public to catch the hares and exact his own extreme form of perverted punishment on their lily-white posteriors, but instead he arrived late and proceeded to act as the hare’s jailer, keeping us all locked up for the full five minutes while the hares set off on their well-rehearsed trail.
Eventually we were released from our forced confinement and set off following paper – all except Belly, who for some reason went in a completely different direction. Maybe he had his own tactical plan to catch the hares? Whatever the reason, the next time I saw his hare-less ass was back at the A.
The initial checks were relatively easy to read, and the trials easy to run, and flat. I managed to make good progress, and this was the only time that I felt we might have a chance to catch the hares. But still, they had a five minute start, most of the checks were easily laid circles, and In and Out was the nominated hare. So in reality, the hounds really didn’t have too much of a chance. This was confirmed after the run when we were informed that In and Out had reached the beer stop in 14 or so minutes, while the hounds had taken over 30!
As I arrived at the beer stop, Sloppy Rod had already grabbed a beer and had started to check for trail. According to his own peculiar version of reality, he is a real man, and real men don’t stop at homo checks and wait for a bunch of faggots to consume all the beer – psychiatric analyses, Doctor Byte?
And then Graven turned up for the beer – of course he did – from somewhere other than the direction of the true trail and, having conscientiously drank more than his fair share of the canned Chang – of course he did – staggered off somewhere other than the direction of the true trail (ref his GPS reading), and was not seen again until he arrived back at the A well after dark and after double the distance that anyone else had run.
After the beer stop, the trail led us down a steep cliff to the road, where we came upon a rubbed out circle – the hares had opportunely employed a few local kids to delay the advances of the hounds. Despite this sneaky tactic, we easily found the trail on the other side of the road, where we came upon an alleged check that had conveniently disappeared or perhaps had never been laid? Anyway, after a while I found the trail running back parallel to the road.
Eventually we came back down to the road and caught sight of the hares perched on the opposite bank, laughing at our futile efforts to narrow the gap. Another check going up the opposite bank gave me the excellent opportunity to yet again chose the most unlikely route in order to lengthen the run and thus improve my fitness – huh, huh, hummh! – and again, for the same reasons – hummh! – at the final v check I decided to take the obviously false trail that the hares had papered as an incentive for some stupid son of a bitch to follow. I didn’t really fall for that obvious gag – really I didn’t!
At last we FRBs found the A, led in by an elated and no doubt utterly heterosexual Sloppy, to be greeted by a pair of grinning hares, no doubt thankful that they would not have to endure the indignity of a penetrating Frankfurter after all, with or without Chuck Wao’s copious supply of KY gel. Talking of meat, the thoughtful pair provided an excellent BBQ of chicken fillets, thighs and pork ribs, accompanied by potato salad and corn cobs. But Graven was not amused when he returned starving hungry only to find the remaining three chunks of potato and a half eaten cob.
As Mr. Poo set about devouring the remains of the last cob – having already consumed most of the meat – and Graven complained about the absence of dead flesh and just about everything else, everyone seemed to agree that the live run worked extremely well, but that the hounds were never likely to catch the hares – too many circle checks? two fast hares? For my part, I certainly enjoyed joining forces with the hounds in our vain attempt to chase down the hares, but perhaps next time, and I certainly hope there will be a next time, a way can be found to shorten the odds of catching them, perhaps without too much of an increased threat to their delicate little assholes.
Great trail, great food – shame about the absence of a good German sausage. Excellent work BMY and IAO.

BMY’s trail:-

In and Out’s trail:-

Graven’s trail:-

I wasn’t feeling the best today due to some Belly Dancer beers. My hangover snooze was disturbed this morning / afternoon by Chuckie giving me a shopping list to bring along to the hash. That kinda forced me to come along and see what Chuckles had in store…

I timed my arrival perfectly and swung in to the A bucket with enough time to delay CW and force him to do a late hare brief… Sadly I was too early to just skip out on the run and had to go out. My car had complained about the hill on the way to the A bucket, and I already guessed that my legs would complain about what was to come. The hare brief was all about international rules, and our Turkish American was nattering away in my ear so my headache just got worse. When CW pointed straight up the mountain I knew a bad day was going to get worse!

We climbed and BF and I discussed where the possible “FT”‘s might be. Finally he took off to see the inevitable. Being much smarter than the hare, I saw powder off to the left and along with Horny Monkey followed the side trail leaving BF to climb higher. Sadly, it seems I’m not smarter than the hare, and promptly hit the False Trail. That was about as much effort as I could bear to put in and I rejoined the trail as the hare came up to sweep and even Sups was already ahead.

The hill was endless, until we came across a resort, that turned out to be a temple. Climbing up further through the temple we finally hit the Doi Suthep road and turned down. What the hell, I may as well run for a bit following Bone Hur, Square Rooter and Humperdick. As soon as we turned off the easy running road and hit trail I changed my mind. Screw that – I’ll just walk from now. Poo past by looking at me with a confused expression. Humpers came by and promptly overtook me twice as he took a wrong turn. What a relief when I saw the cars after around 3.5k. The hare of the dog brightened me up a bit, but it’s time for an early night!

(Courtesy Belly Dancer)

Brown Finger for his ‘set a run a day’ for the last 2 weeks had teamed up with cunning co-hare Graven Image for this one. The last time Graven ran here (Lanna II) he had GPS’d his way to half marathon proportions, so it was with some hope that he’d learned to make sure no-one on their run would repeat his stupidity!

Arriving at the A-bucket – we found the hares supping on beer in the friendly land owners patio – Chucky and Turkish and me thought we would join them but they quickly booted us out to the romantic (Happy Valentines Day) larger site over the bamboo bridge. The owner came over to see what sort of loony farangs were dragging ice into her front garden, but she was happy enough to let us stay. Brown Finger decided to test the engineering of the bamboo bridge and was lucky to not seriously injure himself as it broke – we’ll have to ask them to build a more robust bridge for the next time we use there. [Note: this larger needs permission before use].

So with a hearty turnout – Graven launched into complicated descriptions of all the various checks thay had (not) used – and on out we headed. It was nice to know where the beginning of this run went and thanks to Square Rooters intimate knowledge of this terrain while most were chasing off into the expected trails, Bone Hur and I crossed the stream for what I then knew would be a not too evil an ascent of the hills. Bone Hur with his huge head start was first to the waterfall check which brought us back together, and then up we gently climed to the non-existant check at the top of the hill – en route Frozen Dick had upset GM Kwazi by racist behaviour of not kicking out the circle check he was standing on to keep ahead of the GM.

Humperdick, Angry Inch and me arrived at a weird looking V-check and with the FRB’s calling – Angry Inch kicked out what was the Wimp/Rambo split – leaving the trident looking Wimp option as true trail – the back markers obviously saunterred in the 2.5km in around 30 min. Poo decided that he’d better go and find the rest of the run and thus deservedly was awarded the Wings (also for sticking around for the whole circle – unlike the other half of the Dynamic Duo GM’s – Kwazi who decided that free food was better than a long circle!!)

The circle romantically illuminated by Coming Slowly and Skid Mark was pretty good fun – excellent food (khaw soi) and numerous humourous splashes – even long rants by Chucky entertained us, A good evening all in all.

The asshole is known for setting good runs on hashes where he isn’t the GM, so surely today would be fantastic? It seems he thought he was the GM and so was somewhat unimaginative in terms of the trail! Perhaps that’s harsh – nobody else would imagine this run with the double cross of the dual carriage highway – a task that Horny Monkey struggles with himself!

Anyway, it was Huay Tung Thao – we were set off in the opposite direction from the mountains and the beautiful trails that make the area so hash welcome. Instead we were sent straight back to the road. Horny made us run further on the road with constant skiddy sticks. Paralleling the road we hit another skiddy stick and then a circle check. Everyone was desperate to hit the hills and find a way back to the right, but sadly we were to be disappointed again. The only one out of their mind to cross the canal and the dual carriage way with rush hour traffic was Skid Mark. Perhaps it is the kind of check he’d set, or actually it turns out the hare had given him some insight.

Being a long way in the wrong direction it took some time to get back with the pack as they came back from yet another set of skiddy sticks. Either the hashers or the hares had no idea where we were going, but it was skiddy sticks to the max. Again I was chasing the pack and we went into someone’s extensive backyard and proceeded to dance around in circles around lakes. As we added 3km over a 500m radius Frozen Dick has aspirations of FRB status and set off at a run to cut the corner. We had more and more skiddy sticks, with Brown Finger the only one with energy or motivation to exert the energy in the wrong direction.

Up over a fence and we were On-In with Graven Image determined to come in alongside me. The whole run was a fast pace, but not much over 5k – we could have just run around the track!