I am too lazy to update the web side but back end is up to date.
| Hash Details | |
|---|---|
| Hash Number: | 579 |
| What: | Hockessin Hash #579 |
| When: | Oct. 8, 2005 |
| Where: | Brandywine Springs Park, Wilmington, DE |
| Hares: | Bunion Butt Doggie Erectus Wet Lay | Message |
| WHAT: Hockessin Hash #579 WHEN: Saturday, October 8, 2005 @ 3:00pm WHO HARES: Just Myrna, Just Barry & Bunion Butt WHERE: Brandywine Springs Park near Prices Corner, DE. Park is located at the intersection of Route 41 and Route 34. D'ERECTIONS: FROM I-95, get off at Exit 5 (Newport - Route 141) heading north. Then stay on Route 141 for about 3.5 miles through Newport and across Kirkwood Highway (Route 2). Turn left at a traffic light onto Faulkland Road (Route 34) and travel less than 2 miles to the Brandywine Springs Park entrance on your left. | Hashers |
| Hash Trash | |
| Brandywine Springs a Leak Hash #579 *** October 8, 2005 Hockessin Hash House Harriers The summer’s drought was broken with one swift 38 hour rainstorm this past weekend. Near the Brandywine Springs, local rain gauges would eventually record 6.35” of a steady downfall. Not exactly biblical in scale, but still pregnant with flooding possibility. And way up north Kennett Square way, at the headwaters of this Red Clay Creek, the mushroom houses were being pounded with over ten inches. Yikes! The Red Clay Creek is the usually placid stream which every now and then rears up and destroys homes, most recently those along the lower fields behind Netherfield Drive in Glenville, Delaware. Today the river was high and getting higher, approaching a flood stage. And into this deluge strode 25 Hashers good and true, for on a stormy day like this only the toughest Hounds, those of sturdy peasant stock dared to show their faces. Cherry Hares Just Myrna & Just Barry joined seasoned trail f☺cker-upper Bunion Butt to lay small doughballs along the woods and streams of the Brandywine Springs watershed. Baby C☺ck, a wise and world weary Hasher out of New York City but now in our part of the world, was presented to and welcomed by the sodden Pack. There was some gibberish meant to pass for a nice informative pre-Hash Chalk Talk, and then On-On we slogged. The trail first took the Pack on a quick spin around the ballfields and picnicatoriums of the park, then plunged them down into the dark, dripping woods of the Hyde Run Valley. Through the dank understory growth, a keen-eyed Hasher might have seen the century old concrete ruins of the jolly, good time rides of a turn-of-the-century (two turns ago, not the last one) amusement park. Crossing the Hyde Run and then clambering up the greasy slick slope to the western ridge of the valley, the muddied mutts found themselves in the loose knit Enclave Boheme of the Cedars. For a short block or two we enjoyed fairly firm asphaltic footing, passing 20-30 cottages built in 20-30 different architectural styles, the most remarkable of which was a two-story A-frame dominated by a massive river stone chimney. Just Myrna could not be blamed if her pace quickened or stuttered in front of this house, at one time her matrimonial dwelling. No doubt the house is now fraught with powerful memories both wonderful and horrid (Let all Hashers who’ve been in a divorced way now pause a moment for a knowing and sympathetic shiver of emotional recognition). Whew. Now we are: Running through the loading dock of a nursing home where your future caregivers are grabbing a smoke on their break. Loping down the rolling grassy knoll of the Church of Christ on the Hill. Getting our first glimpse of the raging Red Clay Creek and the cherished Beer Near mark. The conflux of three distinct transportation conduits, two man-made and one intelligently designed, served as an auspicious setting for our Beer Stop – somewhere near the intersection of Greenbank Road (man-made) with the Wilmington & Western Rail Road (man-made) and the Red Clay Creek (intelligent-D) we paused to sip our amber reward. Beneath the W. & W. R.R. trestle, the Red Clay Creek roils with gill-choking red clay. Hashers eyed the raging river warily and then took off, leaving an icy chest of perfectly good Schaeffer suds behind. All the Hashers, save one, choked down their rising vertigo to cross the trestle and ford the torrent. Baby Cock bypassed the trestle to take on the Rio Colorado (literally red colored river) the way it was meant to be taken. He waited until the entire Pack had made it to the other side of the rail road bridge before he plunged into the churning brown water. Before he could take two or three baby cock steps, Baby Cock was swept downstream. A quickly improvised swim stroke – combination of the Australian Crawl and the Doggy Paddle. It is only 50’ from shore to shore, but he is pushed downstream a football field length. In the middle of the stream, just a head is visible above the dirty froth, then not even that. There’s his head again, and now he’s on the other bank reaching into his back pocket and pulling out… a Schaeffer 12-ouncer. Phsst… glug-glug. Ahh! That’s a beer honestly earned by a half-retard Hasher. He grabbed fistfuls of streambank shiggy, hauled himself out of the current and leapt away to re-join the Pack. We took the train tracks for a while, again passing memorialized remnants of the Brandywine Springs Amusement Park and finally climbing out of the valley and back On In. As the Stinking & Slobbering Pack attempted the geometrically impossible feat of Circling Up inside a square pavilion, the sky opened up and poured. The Holy Hash Circle thrummed with the sounds of a driving rain splattering against a tin roof. I carefully watched the Honorary Religious Advisor screw up the following: Hares Myrna, Barry & Bunion were dishonored and the quality of their trail was questioned. They were made to drink. Homo was back in town for the weekend, having bummed a last minute ride home from her Pittsburgh campus. She was made to drink. Pathological liar Baby Cock told a bunch of lies and possibly some truths. Keep your eye on this guy. He was made to drink. Former Army officer and Corps of Engineers construction manager Just Phil was baptized into the Hash and blessed with the very manly name Back Ho. He was made to drink. Hashi Interupti, auto-Hashers, and non-Hashers were brought forth and all were made to drink. There were no accusations or trail violations, since we were all simply perfect. No one was made to drink. The Circle was closed, and most of us then chose to drink. After all the pizza, sushi, salad and brownies were scarfed, after most of the beer was quaffed, we were left soaked and satisfied. Out in the raw elements, with food and drink dwindling, with nighttime falling and a steady rain pattering, there seemed to be little encouragement to linger. Hashers slipped off to their cars for transport back into the real world and a hot shower. Schaeffer is the one beer to have when you’re having more than one. Schaeffer’s pleasure doesn’t fade even when your thirst is done. The most rewarding flavor in this man’s world, for people who are having fun. Schaeffer is the one beer to have when you’re having more than one. Bunion Butt October 2005 | |
| Files: | |
| Hash_Trash___Brandywine_Springs | |