Hockessin Hash House Harriers History

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Hash Details
Hash Number:1139
What:Hockessin Hash #1139 - Welcome to Horse Country
When:June 8, 2016
Where:1214 Cannery Rd., Coatesville, PA
What:  Hockessin Hash #1139, Welcome to Horse Country
When:  Wednesday, June 8, 2016 at 6:30 pm, HST 
Where:   ChesLan Preserve (1214 Cannery Rd. Coatesville, PA 19320) -- address is Coatesville, but it's really just north of Unionville 
Who Hare:  Beastialidocious
What Else:  There will be a reward for the best Derby/Steeplechase Hat ... and a bonus if it makes it through the hash!   Also bring a dry bag and chair.  Bug spray is recommended so that you are not carried away by the local "wildlife". Let's just say Ass-hopper will be in heaven. 
Friendlies:  Trail is dog (they should be on-leash) and kid friendly.  Apres is dog friendly, but they must stay in Beasty's barn yard with Max.  
D'erections:  From Kennett Square, PA, head north on Rt 82.  Cross over Rt. 926, then at the round-about take the second exit to stay on Rt. 82 into Unionville.  Pass the fire station on the right and Foxy-Loxy on the left, then turn Left on Rt. 842 (Wawaset Rd) travel about 2 miles and turn Right on Cannery Rd (the left side it is labelled Marlboro Springs Rd).  Follow Cannery about three miles, at the Y stay left to stay on Cannery.  GO PAST the first gravel parking lot for ChesLan then look for the second one on the Left.  Pull in and Park.  (If you pass it or if it is full you can pull into the Lenfest Center on the right and jog over).
Bumpy Beaver
Bunion Butt
Bunion's Bitch
Camel Toe Yo Ho
Circle Jerk
Cock a Doodle Don't
Dancing Fool
Do Me On the Beach
Hare Today Cum Tomorrow
Kum On Inn
Lost Penis
Magic Carpet Ride
Pickle Dick
The Wetter the Better
Tinsel Tits
Tits of Steel
Weird Al Spanks the Bitch
Wet Lay
Woody Woodpecker
Hash Trash
Trash for Hockessin Hash #1139 – Welcome to Horse Country! 
So, the slobbering pack met at the ChesLen Preserve in Beyond Fucking Everywhere Coatesville, PA on a blustery, somewhat nippley 60-ish degree evening of June 8, 2016 AD.  Hashers I remember encountering at some point or other included: Wishboneher, Hare Today Cum Tomorrow, NecroPheelMeUp, PubeHeAteHer, Beastialidocious, Cockadoodledon’t, Pickle Dick, Tinsel Tits, Lost Penis, Skidmarks, Kum On Inn, Asshopper, Wetter the Better, Wet Lay, Bunion Butt, Dancing Fool, Groper, Circle Jerk, Do Me On the Beach, Tits of Steel, Magic Carpet Ride, Woody, Camel Toe Yo Ho, Manster, Weird Al, Bumpy Beaver, Bunion’s Bitch and ...?
Our hare for the day was our own Dr. Dolittle, Beastialidocious who had somehow convinced us all to travel to her neck of the boondocks where the deer and the antelope (er … horses) play.  Having appropriately dubbed this “horse country,” Beasty encouraged attendees to wear “derby” hats which would be judged for creativity and longevity on trail.  This being perhaps the windiest day of the year, it would remain to be seen whether the hats would survive or take flight into the oblivion of the expansive grassy fields that lay ahead of us.  Hoping we had not double-parked any non-hasher into the meager parking lot, we sipped on our beers, bracing against the wind until we could wait no more for any stragglers attempting to make their GPS’ work to locate us in this tech-forsaken land.  Beasty enthusiastically explained most of her marks in chalk-talk which included some rained-on flour that may or may not be there anymore, some checks, a Turkey/Eagle split, check-backs, fuck-you’s, and ... wait ... where was the Beer Near?  Turns out, this would not be the only mark she had forgotten, but we’ll get to that later.  The sleeve of beer was bestowed upon Bunion’s Bitch in an attempt to slow him down just a little and the hash shit was given to Asshopper to carry.  What he did with it, no one seems to know (or wants to know), but this shall remain a mystery until it appears again some day.  And so, without further ado and dicking around, the hounds were released into the field to the melodic blats of Groper’s trumpet.
Into the grassy field we ventured looking for flour that had been through at least two or three thunderstorms earlier that day.  Some “cake batter” was at last spotted along the far left of the field, but several FRB’s had discovered more ingredients on an actual mowed trail, so off we darted until we came upon the Turkey/Eagle split and then upon a check (Eagle trail perspective).  Those who went left had to cut across a tall-grass tick hotel to get back on trail, but eventually we had our heading until we came to another check.  PubeHeAteHer went to the right and kept going, though he had to go about half a mile to find another check while true trail went straight until we came upon another check that would involve either cutting through another tall-grass tick hotel, down a hill to the left or up a hill to the right.  Most chose the paths of least resistance, which of course turned out to be wrong. Skids went down the hill and kept going until he also had to go about half a mile to find more marks, which sounds a lot more like Circle Jerk’s pattern of no back-tracking on trail.  Turns out that Beasty “inadvertently” forgot to tell us that she had decorated the tick hotel in purple ribbons, but eventually we figured that it was probably her doing and not the local wildlife, so into the thick grass we bounded.   
The Eagle trail took us further into where the sun don’t shine (in the preserve, that is) and we encountered plenty of shoe-sucking mud pits and a few water crossings to provide us with that wonderful swampy-feet feeling.  Then came the hills with the switchbacks from hell which sent us on a death march to the titty-top.  Once we were sufficiently sucking air, we started a slow decent down the mountain side where we merged into the Turkey trail and found that one seemingly non bird-brain had placed some stick arrows at all of the checks to point us in the right direction.  Thanks to whoever that was for saving us from chasing our asses for a while.  At long last, we turned the corner and found the pack encircling a cooler like a bunch of vultures diving into some roadkill.  The Beer Near did exist!  Happily we chugged down the shitty swill while we regaled each other with stories of how some of the slobs had managed to “creatively” find trail while others didn’t know where the hell they were or how the hell they had gotten there.  Dancing Fool was thrilled at how non-trash-infested the preserve was and that he could actually enjoy trail without cleaning up other people’s shit for once.  Once the chill of the evening started setting in, we decided it was high time to high-tail it back because who knew how much more our masochistic hare had in store for us.     
As we headed on-out, Pube and Woody had the honor of bringing the cooler back so they decided to make it even more awkward to handle by running with it. How this did not turn into a tragic or hilarious accident, no one can guess, but they did manage to pass several people (including yours truly after an epic hash crash at a not-so-precarious creek crossing) and were the first cooler to the “On In.”  Fortunately, Beasty had chosen not to torture us too much longer but did manage to throw one more hill climb in just for shits and giggles before returning us to the cars.  Here we were given a paragraph of directions to another Beyond Fucking Everywhere location for circle and après.  Many in the pack, however decided they didn’t need any fucking directions and our caravan of cars eventually split up, engaging in some “racist” behavior as to who had the faster way there.  Regardless, we met up at the other end of the boondocks some 20-odd minutes away at Beasty’s barn home and circled-up while the horses went about their business and hoped we wouldn’t stay too long.
Wishboneher got circle going by calling out our hare for her shitty trail that was not long enough, didn’t have enough pavement and oh yeah, happened to be marked in some ribbons that had not been properly explained to the half-minds in the beginning.  Kum On Inn drank for FRB while Wet Lay drank for the 369th time (or something like that) for being DFL.  Bunion’s Bitch was called out for failing to finish his sleeve of beer and sharing some with Hare Today Cum Tomorrow, who sounds like he really wants to carry the sleeve next week because he has taken beers from it two weeks in a row.  Tinsel Tits was awarded best derby hat for her red, white and blue, Beanie Baby-clad bonnet while Groper was given a prize for lasting the longest (keeping her hat on throughout trail with the assistance of her scarf).  Our visitor, Camel Toe Yo Ho greeted us with a limerick from his native land in Lehigh Valley while Pube drank for his whitey-tighty antics at the LVH3 campout.  And finally, with the backdrop of the setting sun and all of us starting to shiver in the wind, Woody was called-upon to announce “may the hash go in peace.”    
Following circle, we all piled into Beasty’s barn like the farm animals we were and feasted upon sloppy joe’s, baked beans, chips and salsa, pasta salad and some quickly-disappearing pie that I was told by Hare Today Cum Tomorrow, was good. All in all it was another shitty trail. Stay tuned for Hockessin Hash #1140 this Wednesday.