Welcome,

To the tale of a failed trail. You will not be able to finish even one beer before this Trash has ended. That is NOT due to the fact that this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is not deserving of all the verbal abuse I can heap upon him but rather due to the fact this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is so amazingly undeserving of that much of my time. Or of the time it would take you to read it.

Everyone was properly attired in foul weather gear as rain was predicted. When this Hash was completed, we’d experienced no foul weather but trail DID manage to put everyone in a foul MOOD. Let’s delve into the reasons for this.

Many hounds showed up at campsite sixty where Courtesy Flush had ensconced himself. They were then reminded the start was from the laughably named amphitheater. Back they went. Once every fool that intended to attempt this trail was present, Courtesy Flush distributed MAPS of his trail! I say ‘his’ trail but what I meant was a trail kindly provided by the California State Park System which is of course funded by you and I so it was actually the PACK that came up with this trail and Courtesy Flush merely absconded with it. He then mounted a picnic table and explained what he believed we should know and that all he really wanted was for no one to get lost. This is double-speak for ‘I do not want to have to come looking for you’. Well, by virtue of the fact everyone had a damn map, the chances of even persons as half-minded as ourselves becoming directionally-challenged were miniscule.

The chatter during the hares’ requested lead time of a mere five minutes was relegated to staring at maps and asking, Where are we on this map? After we believed we’d located our current location, acting GM Pink Cherry Licker called for Circleup for Introductions which was actually a euphemism for: Let’s get this damn thing over with! Here’s a list of the foolish fools that answered her call: Clearly Not A Hooker, dBASED, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, Pee Skool, Hareless, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Steamy Baanorrhea, L’eggs, Dung-Fu Grip(carrying some of the Beer Check beer!) and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick were skulking around the periphery attempting to avoid Ranger Danger.

As I anticipate a rather lackluster trail, Hash Flash chooses to enjoy the stellar scenery and will opt for the Eagle trail this evening. Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip and myself wave good-bye to dBASED as he chooses the incorrect trail right from the start. We three took off on Pine Trail which curves back by the entrance kiosk and parallels Graham Hill road for a while before curving on-left and into some heavy chaparral. Pine Trail eventually junctions with Eagle Creek Trail and, appropriately enough, the Eagles veered on-left onto Eagle Creek Trail.

Trail has been relatively uneventful this far, a few ups and a few downs. Now that we’ve begun to gain some elevation, the trail has become sand. I’ve always found it disconcerting to be high on a wooded mountain and find sand beneath my rear paws. Eventually we left the chaparral aft and headed on-down under the Redwood canopy. Trail has begun to incline steeply on-down, dancing over redwood roots and is getting slick. A definite recipe for disaster. I saw many an elongated foot print on some of the downhill sections. Soon Eagle Creek Trail junctions with River Trail and Pipeline Road beside a small stream and the very bottom of the park. Pipeline is actually a paved surface and we so went on-left. This began a series of most unpleasant on-ups of a serious nature. Fallen trees litter the roadside, probably pulled to the ground by gravity considering how steep the hillsides are here. I, too, almost fell victim to that irresistible force a number of times before attaining the crest.

Soon Pipeline Trail met with Ridge Fire Road and that on-left was made but, sadly, the climbing did not cease. Soon trail was to emerge from beneath the Redwood canopy and back into the desolation of a vast chaparral field. Trail continued it’s meandering trek, much of which was in a deep trench of sand, until nearing the top and the observation deck came into view. From a hundred yards away the cacophony of Beer Check was discernible.

The view was spectacular but I believe there are easier ways to arrive where it can be seen. Upon deletion of as much beer as we felt advisable prior to undertaking the trek on-down off the mountain, the pack reassembled for a leisurely stroll on-in.

Religion was moved from the amphitheater, a good idea, to campsite sixty, the home of Courtesy Flush et. al. With Accuprick absent, Dung-Fu Grip and Pink Cherry Licker assembled their altar and began issuing down-downs. Here’s a sampling of the transgressions: Those that attended last Saturday’s Hash Bash Hash Bash; dBASED and TIMMY!! who opted for an incorrect trail; Occasional Rapist for being an accomplice hare; TIMMY!! for being an unintentional FRB, Jim(from observation deck) attending with wife Marion; TIMMY!! was awarded the Hashit for his FRB ways. Oh, yeah. The RA’s DID bring the hares up but little mention was made of trail itself. That brought an end to this Hash as it does this Trash. The healing process began as marshmallows were burned and incredible amounts of chocolate, in various incarnations, was devoured. The party lasted well past the time allowed by campground rules. The party will ALWAYS do so, too.

The preceding 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.

A Scribe’s sole purpose is to provide entertainment to their kennel mates. Whether or not they are successful in this endeavor is still a subject open to debate.

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 twenty-sixth day of April in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe