Hockessin Hash House Harriers History

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Hash Details
Hash Number:1136
What:Hockessin Hash #1136
When:May 18, 2016
Where:DOD Ponds Wildlife Refuge, Penns Grove, NJ
Hares:Cousin It
Famous Jack
What:  Hockessin Hash #1136 
When:  Wednesday, May 18, 2016 at 6:30 pm, HST
Where:   At the Delaware River on the DOD Ponds Wildlife Refuge in Pedricktown NJ (or Penns Grove, NJ)
Who Hare:  Groper and Cousin It and Famous Jack (press arf)
Friendlies:  Dogs, yes.  Turtles, no.  
What to Bring:  Drybag, bug spray, and since we're in Zoo Jersey, tyvek suits might not be a bad idea. D'erections:  From I-95, cross the Delaware Memorial Bridge and be in the right lane.  Turn right at Exit 1B toward Route 130 North.  North on Route 130 for 5.4 miles.  You should see a crappy brown sign "DOD Ponds Wildlife Refuge" on your left.  It may be facing in the wrong direction. (If you go too far, you will pass Perkintown Road on your right.)  Follow this dirt road 3 miles to the Delaware River.  When in doubt only take dirt roads to the left.For GPS folks:  "There is no GPS / google maps location for DOD Ponds, nor a street address".  Follow Route 130 North to 345 Route 130, Pedricktown, NJ.  This is CST Pavers company.  Don't turn here.  This is 5.4 miles north of Exit 1B of 295 just over the Delaware Memorial Bridge in New Jersey.  Drive an additional 200 feet and turn left into DOD Ponds Wildlife Refuge.  Follow this dirt road 3 miles to the Delaware River.  When in doubt only take dirt roads to the left.
Bumpy Beaver
Butt Lite
Closing Time
Cock a Doodle Don't
Cousin It
Dancing Fool
Dirty Wet Pussy
Famous Jack
Hare Today Cum Tomorrow
Kum On Inn
Lost Boy
Lost Penis
Perfect Woman
Pickle Dick
Rug Burn
The Wetter the Better
Tinsel Tits
Toxic Shock
Weird Al Spanks the Bitch
Wet Lay
Hash Trash
Trash for Hockessin Hash #1136
So, the slobbering pack met at the DOD Ponds Wildlife Refuge in Pendricktown or Penns Grove, but New Jersey nonetheless, on a mild overcast 60-ish degree evening of May 18, 2016 AD.  
Hashers I remember encountering at some point or other included: Wishboneher, Hare Today Cum Tomorrow, NecroPheelMeUp, PubeHeAteHer, Pickle Dick, Tinsel Tits, Butt Lite, Dirty Wet Pussy, Lost Penis, Skidmarks, Perfect Woman, Butthead, Kum On Inn, Lost Boy, Asshopper, Wetter the Better, Wet Lay, Dancing Fool, Cousin It, Groper, Toxic Shock, Fuck 5, Just Bethany, Weird Al, Bumpy Beaver, Rug Burn, Cockadoodledon’t and ...?
Our hares for the day were Groper and Cousin It who had provided clear-as-mud directions to this area that no GPS could find, which included instructions such as: “You should see a crappy brown sign which may be facing in the wrong direction” and “when in doubt only take dirt roads to the left,” which sounded a lot like the set-up for a horror movie, but somehow the pack managed to navigate through said dirt roads (beside some visible flour marks and arrows) to a parking area with a lovely view of the Delaware River.  We enjoyed some of Cousin It’s home brew while we waited for a few stragglers (Pickle and Tinsel to name a few) who hadn’t heeded the “dirt roads left” instructions and were circling around on the dirt bike/ATV-like trails trying to figure out where the hell to go. Our RA, Wishboneher at last made the call for chalk talk.  Cousin It provided detailed instructions to the pack of seasoned hashers on what flour marks and checks meant, while Groper stepped in to explain that the not-so-familiar marks of “PO” and “TS” did not mean “penis out” or “tit stop” as some may have hoped, but “Photo Op” and “Turtle Stop.”  After some underwhelmed reactions from the slobs, Cousin It informed us that the start was a Turkey/Eagle split, but that we shouldn’t take the Turkey trail unless we wanted to go swimming in waist-deep water and it was strongly advised that we all just do the Eagle trail.  We were also told that there would be some pink tape which would become yellow tape later along with the usual flour.  After some confusion about the scope and necessity of all of these directions which made no sense to anyone, we were off.      
So, what became the Eagle trail for everyone first involved running, slogging and eventually sauntering down a beach with some rocks and mud/slime to maneuver through as well as some discarded tires, hypodermic needles and lots of fodder for Dancing Fool.  We enjoyed our lovely view so much, that we failed to pay attention to the fact that the few and far-between pink ribbons had run out and Cousin It (who was sweeping at the moment) was slowly disappearing from anyone’s view.  Everyone blamed Pube and Skids who blamed each other, but eventually we discovered a “trail” leading us into a shiggified area that Cousin It has described as “a mess.”  Turned out that Cousin It’s definition of “mess” meant a tic-infested poison ivy playland.  We scraped and clawed our way through New Jersey’s jungle till we came to an expanse of water with a mark on the other side, which clearly indicated that we were about to get wet.  Depending on how you navigated this swamp or how vertically challenged you were, it was either thigh-deep or ass-deep ... or according to Cockadoodle, balls deep.   
Out of the muck and into the man-eating forest we returned until we came upon a clusterfuck of arrows with some yellow tape, pink tape and flour marks further up the trail.  It goes without saying that this caused many brains to explode with some of the pack chasing the arrows around themselves, and others going straight out to the dirt road, but according to Cousin It’s late-cumming explanation, the arrows were “trail for later.” To be continued ...
On the dirt road, we were met by Groper and her hash horn leading a throng of “Turkeys” who had apparently been trekking on more stable ground, but no one understood where anyone else had come from.  Here trail headed us down a dirt road with marks on either side, which we assumed meant more “trail for later.”  After a check thwarted a few of us, a much needed “Beer Near” appeared and Skids quickly discovered the garbage bag hiding the cooler of beverages that we all enjoyed, while waiting for the rest of the pack who had been running around the clusterfuck arrows for who knows how long.  As we all gazed across an expanse of water looking at the direction from which we had cum, Cousin It informed us that the Eagle trail was to go straight through the water, while the Turkeys went back to “trail for now.”  We all thought Cousin It was joking at first until he started walking out into the water and informed us that it was actually a road used for military purposes and was only, really, not quite waist deep. Not wanting to pussy-out, we were all cautiously optimistic of what “waist-deep” meant as we traversed down this loose definition of “road.”  Turns out, Cousin It was more of a wise man than a wise guy and we were led safely to the other shore, back through the clusterfuck of arrows or “trail for now” and back to the dirt road leading toward the cars. Speaking of which, there was a certain steamy-windowed car occupied by two young lovers in our path that attracted the attention of Wishboneher and Tinsel Tits who couldn’t resist cupping their hands around their eyes and peering into the windows, but could think of nothing better to say than, “Are you okay?!” Um ... On In?  
Prior to circle convening, some of the pack made nice with a truck driver named “Robby” from Texas who had parked his rig to camp out for the night. Turns out, Robby had a tambourine and some other percussion instruments with him and was hauling mushrooms, which intrigued the pack greatly.  Robby studied our species as circle began with Cousin It and Groper being made to drink for their shitty, shitty trail so many times, Groper nearly lost her shit out of her mouth.  Pube and Skids drank for their FRBness and since Wet Lay couldn’t decide if she was DFL, Perfect Woman volunteered to drink for this.  Interuptuses drank, though Cockadoodle was singled out with a special rendition of “Donnie the Retard.”  Hare Today Cum Tomorrow, who is still considered a second-class citizen, was made to drink for being a “visitor.”  Wetter called the “Peeping Toms” out, which turned out to be “Peeping Karens” (nerd names), so all the “Karens” ended up drinking.  Butthead was made to drink for taking all the ribbons down before the always late-cumming Kum On Inn had cum through trail. Someone said “fuck” five times, so Fuck 5 was made to drink just because.  Then, mushroom-toting Robby from Texas was called into circle and introduced to the art of hashing by being given a proper down-down. Turns out, when you’re from Texas and wearing a 10-gallon hat, you can keep your hat on in circle. 
Following circle, Robby was invited to join us at apres’, which Cousin It had printed on some pieces of paper with more obscure New Jersey directions to our destination at Scarpazi’s Bar. Here we feasted on eggplant parm, chicken salad, Caesar salad, bread, cupcakes and many, many Saint-Pauley-girl-sized pitchers of beer while we were entertained by a live singer and each other’s lively conversation.  All in all it was another shitty trail.  Stay tuned for Hockessin Hash #1137 this Wednesday.