Ahh, such a lovely evening! The solstice super moon was rising, the bay view was gorgeous, and the beers were fresh and cold. Pink Cherry Licker saved the day by running to Sev-o for more beer when we saw that Hugh Heifer’s trough had run low. Hares Timmy!!! and Puff the Magic Drag Queen gathered us up at UCSC’s West Remote, for the most beautiful view from a school parking lot ever. Not only did we have a great view of the bay, but Rod Lover and Thmp-Thmp also had a great view of the first section of trail for playing reconnaissance. The hare pair dawdled on-on in the direction of the moonrise. Deep Stroke and Pinky swapped a hard lemonade (and herpes) as the pack chugged down their backwash and saddled up.
Rod and Thmp’s un-telligence mission guided us straight into bombing down a hill, crossing Empire Grade and running through a pasture riddled with critter holes, cute cattle and their sloppy ass droppings. We were relieved to blow right by a private property fence, but soon enough had to hop a steel fence onto a trail that looked like fair game. Hugh’s son, Edgar’s Girlfriend, 
vaulted right over that son of a bitch like it was a pommel horse. He was stuck spending his birthday with his mom, so you can’t blame the kid for wanting to have some fun. The trail got all woodsy as it snaked along parallel to Empire Grade. We came to a creek with only logs to balance beam across. This was totally becoming more of a gymnastics meet than a hash trail.
Deep Stroke and Cumcerto decided the signal for a mountain lion sighting is screams of terror. I was glad I brought my pepper spray for this shit. I asked Deep Stroke to rip it out of my wrist strap and use it if I got attacked. I’m pretty sure she’d actually just stand back and “signal” while I’d get chewed to kitty bits. Trail winded through poison oak. Then through more poison oak and up a steep hill. Just when our radiators were in danger of over heating, we came to liquor check. Fireball whiskey. Just the thing for a pack of panting, red-faced, sweat-stained hounds. Back on trail was more poison oak. Where there wasn’t poison oak, there were mosquitos. Where there weren’t mosquitos, there were ticks.
We finally escaped from the evil oak as trail went through a graffiti-ized storm drain tunnel beneath Empire Grade. It popped out at a concrete box cave entrance, which didn’t look too welcoming. Glad we passed this by, too. Those old hares were really giving us hell. Hills, shiggy, tunnel, p.o., fences, water crossing, caves, cow patties, cows… This trail had every damn thing BUT banana slugs. What is up with that??
Beer check was in a small redwood grove near Porter College. It had twigs and branches woven in a circle around the base of the trees, making a cozy nest. We shot the shit and snacked on a cheese platter courtesy of gentleman hare Puff. Somehow the discussion turned to crime and panty thieves. I nominated Dog Breath most likely to be a panty thief, but Puff quickly confessed to doing that kind of thing in college. Puff: gentleman hare and panty thief. Brokebench Mountain’s dog Porter was weaving through the beer circle like a walking p.o. delivery device. Strong boys rounded up the cooler and the pack headed back to the start location. dBASED reminded us of ranger danger, so we spread out a bit and acted sorta like decent citizens for a change.
Back at the gorgeous view with the bangin’ moon, Accuprick RA’d and Just Trish was beer fairy. dBASED and Occasional Rapist bailed out of religion either to score a free birthday prime rib dinner at Ideal or because they hate us. Whatever. Brokebench was punished for bringing his dog Porter who crapped on a trail that was already covered in crap. Virgin Ciarra (Pinky made her cum) told a joke that was all kinds of WTF?, 
so she performed a little ditty about birds instead. Virgin Ciarra and Cumz Like a Dog (Sierra) belched in name solidarity. Then Cumz Like a Dog and Dog Breath drank in name solidarity. We celebrated Puff’s 50th haring, or his “golden shower analversary” as Deep Stroke called it. Timmy!!! drank for missing the Wharf to Barf t-shirt appointment with designer Hogazm and haberdasher Thmp because he was busy beating off at the farmer’s market drum circle downtown.
Suddenly it was down-downus interruptus by real ranger danger. Thmp went off to smooth things over with the po-po and bought us a few more minutes to finish up our wankfest. Accu proclaimed it the Best Trail of the Year and brought the hares up to thank and spank them. Then we got out while the gettin’ was good. On on on was at burger. I couldn’t make it, but I hope somebody ordered a Luther. It’s a bacon cheeseburger on a donut bun. Did you just drool a li’l bit?
Next hash will be meeting up at Brady’s Yacht Club. Let’s drink a boatload o’ beer! Those are Captain’s orders.
On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)