September salutations,

      And September is soon to be history and forgotten. Hopefully, Trail 1155 will join September in the ranks of the forgotten, consigned to the scrap heap, a distant nightmare.

       While it is still fresh in our memory, let’s make a record of it’s misdeeds and missteps in the hope they will never be repeated.

       A last minute change of venue never bodes well. This was due, according to Rumor Control, by a employee-owner dispute at the original location. Also rumored was that wait staff refused to deal with hashers but the owner wanted the money. Admittedly, that latter part is sheer conjecture on my part but that does not mean it’s incorrect.

       So, on to the new venue and it’s minuscule outdoor drinkin’ arena.

If everyone in the club was the size of Banana Basher, His Bulkiness, we would not have been able to get everyone outdoors. Well, maybe we could have but the balcony would surely have collapsed under our combined weight.

We had one visitor, Keys To Your Anus, invading our little burg from Las Vegas. (How could she even have FOUND Santa Cruz?)

We also had a new addition, Leaky Rubber. I didn’t ask if that was the nickname his Mother gave him.

After co-hares Pink Cherry Licker, Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp vanished into the Capitola fog, co-GM Baker’s Dozen’t called for Circleup for Introductions and answering yips were heard from: Dicky Wacker, TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Wicked Retahted, Testacoil, Broke Bench Mountain, Cumz Out My Nose, Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, Keys To Your Anus, Leaky Rubber, Cum You Will Not, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

Trail began pleasantly enough with a jaunt along the Esplanade followed by an on-right off Monterey to the long staircase leading on-up to Depot Hill. Only the FRB’s were screwed by this as it proved false and trail returned to Monterey Avenue. However, 100 feet further and we were motivated to take an on-right onto a locals-only path that took the troops right back atop Depot Hill. Very crafty. Rude, but crafty nonetheless. We then went on Fairview Avenue to Central Avenue which brought us back to Monterey Avenue. We’ve now traversed half a mile and are still within sight of where we started. Is our hare-trio, crafty, devious or just lazy bastards? You make the call.

A check was solved here leading the litter onto the railroad tracks and proceeding towards the trestle towering over Soquel Creek. Just prior to the trestle, marker pointed the pod down a dirt embankment and into the parking lot behind the Capitola Police Department. This must be some kind of a joke! Sending the hounds to the local Hound Pound?!? Joke maybe but not very damn funny. We denizens scurried across Capitola Avenue, onto Riverview Drive and soon on-left onto Riverview Avenue. (Not especially inventive with their street names around here, are they?)

Not far along Riverview Avenue, a locals-only path on-right presented itself which leads to Soquel Creek Park Footpath which ends at Stockton Street where an on-right was indicated taking us across Soquel Creek to Soquel Creek Park where the LC sign was beheld. Once in this narrow, dark park we encountered members of the hare contingency issuing urine-sample-sized cups with an obnoxious liquid contained within.

  Pulling away from the park, trail took a turn on-up Wharf Road to Capitola Road and on-right onto 49th Avenue. This brought up back to Wharf Road. Circlejerks seem to be a recurring theme on this trail. We soon turned on-left onto Grace Street, on-left onto 46th Avenue and then violated private property by slithering through a large apartment complex and eventually emerging back into civilization. Eventually we wound our way back to Capitola Road and crossed over onto 45th Avenue which was utilized all the way to Jade Street Park. We crossed the entire width of the park and arrived at the railroad tracks where Beer Check was convened.

 
We would now traipse along the railroad tracks to a secluded area near the trestle for Religion. This would clock the pack in at around 2.5 miles…except for the poor bastards that fell for the numerous falses, back checks and circlejerks.

Religious Adviser dBASED issued the following down-downs: Testacoil as a backslider, visitors were recognized and welcomed, Broke Bench Mountain celebrated his 425th hash with us and, of course, the hare-trio was roundly criticized.

It was determined this was just about enough half-mindedness for one week and the RA dismissed the pack. That just about does it for this Hash Trash as well.

The precedding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. One should never allow the facts to stand in the way of a good story.

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the thirtieth day of September, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe Surf City H3