Trail 998 celebrated our anal Friday after Thanksgiving shit show… Oh, I mean trail. We started day drinking at a respectable time of 1pm this year at the home of Steamy Baanorrhea. I hope everyone saw the huge boa hanging out in his living room. Rumor is, that boa was once the pet of his Mom and was lost in her car for six months after a car accident only to resurface one day while she was out driving. Glad he didn’t decide to come out one day while she was getting her car serviced!

Trail set out quickly to Cabrillo College where both eagles and turkeys climbed the hill up to the Horticulture Center. Upon reaching the summit, we were rewarded with a slippery slope which ended in an LC pit of Fire… Ball. After warming our insides with a swig of cinnamon death, we went down the muddy trail and along a small trail before hitting the turkey eagle split. Eagle was a muddy climb in the trails above Cabrillo then a crazy paved descent along Vienna Drive.

We reunited with the turkeys at the base of Cabrillo where we made our way back over Soquel Dr to the other side of trail where we found our next LC. Rumor has it that it was a pumpkin Kahlua mixture but I decided to skip this one, because it looked like pureed baby shit. We quickly made our way back to Steamy’s house, where we filled ourselves with beer, foods and the remains of the LC’s.

Once we reached a state of shit show, we decided it would be a good time to try to have religion. Little by little we got our drunk asses over to a nice little patch of grass that we really would have appreciated had the weather been warmer.

Dung Fu was our RA for the afternoon and also managed to be his own beer fairy. Down downs were given to our visitors, Missile Anus, Dual Tools Worm and Shanghiney for making the best move of their week and joining us for our Friday hash. Princess Diarrhea and Pink Cherry Licker were both given down downs for missing an LC. After reaching the Horticulture Center, they took one look at the trails and said “fuck this shit”. Not a bad call. PCL and Accuprick are really trying hard to get us all to learn the lyrics to the new SCH3 song “Number 45”. Hey, all I know is the chorus so far but we’re getting there! Myself (H2H), Dung Fu and Puff the Magic Drag Queen were all given a down down for slipping and falling on trail. Sorry about the mud on the fireball bottle, I had to wipe my hands on something! When it came time for backsliders to take their down downs, we included Occasional Rapist in the shame, since she tried to call up Organ Grinder, who wasn’t even there. How much of your LC did you have, girl?

Lastly, our hares Steamy Baanorrhea and Occasional Rapist were brought up and chided for their shitty, shitty trail.

On on on went over to Manuel’s, where we drank and ate and drank to our cold little heart’s pleasure.

Next week will be hash 999 from 99 bottles. Our hares will be Dung Fu & Baker’s Doesn’t. I’m sure they have fantastic, terrible things in store for us. Don’t miss it! All the cool kids are going.

Hello Friends and Lovers!

It is I, Dung-Fu Grip, guest scribing after one of our official scribes left the continent, and the other two just, uh, didn’t come.

This last week saw the “good” folk of Monterey cum north for a Can’d Invasion of our humble beach community. We’ve been seeing less of our Southern brethren of late, and if this trail is any indication, that’s probably a trend for the best. They promised a short shitty shiggy-filled ‘Murica trail, so I guess I’ve only got myself to blame for any disappointment.

We met in a neighborhood in Aptos, where we proceeded to chug beers, suck jello shots, swill wine, and chat with the families passing down the road. Fucked Over Fest arrived with his dog sticking out of his moon roof, PCL apparently crashed her car on the way TO the hash, which is a truly incredible achievement, and Courtesy Flush brought a satellite phone for some reason. It apparently could send texts from anywhere in the world, making it a bizarre fusion of 80’s and early 2000’s technology.

After doing a surprising good job warming the local community to our little social club, we circled up and headed down the sole path into the woods. I want to critique the trail here, but there was shiggy and pretty greenery and we had to hop across logs over a stream to get to a ‘Murica themed jello shot check. It was pretty sweet.

Somewhere around there, TIMMY!!! decided that staying dry was for losers and gracefully dismounted into the water.

I went up the hill at the following check where I found no marks, but rather four used condoms scattered amongst a series of bike jumps, which suggests mountain biker orgies are pretty safe. That’s cool.

True trail led across a narrow single-track where the FRBs had a stand-off with a muggle and his dog on a cliff-side. After a brief staring contest, the civilian backed down the trail and allowed the mass of frothing r*cists to pass unmolested.

Down and around and through the redwoods we hopped, turning a corner to find our hares in full regalia waiting with a pile of duff beers. SCH3 has spoiled me for hash beer a little, I admit, and I begrudgingly choked down a Natty Ice. It was just as gross as I was expecting.

Beer Check was also located right where a group of cyclists wanted to pass. They gathered up below us, and began to confer in hushed whispers and then, their courage mustered, attempted to pass through us. We responded with a rousing two-cheeked salute. As they did not stop, I assume these bikers were a separate group from the stunting fornicators. One can only hope that the woods of Aptos are home to a Dirty Shame style gang war between factions of mountain bikers.

The hares departed beer check, and more hashers arrived, including Genital Tongs who reached through the pile of shit beer to find cans of Sierra Nevada. Goddammit!

From the beer check we meandered down, and then up, and after a distressingly short distance we once again spotted our hares lounging by their vehicle. We were back to the start, and trail was at an end in less than two miles. Fucking tease of a r*n. At least there was lots of wet bush.

My disappointment in the trail’s paltry length was quickly muted by screwdrivers served out of the hares’ car.

A minute later a few more hashers crested the hill into the finish. 5 Finger crouched down to get an action shot, and Dog Breath galloped towards him shouting, “Don’t move!” and attempted to vault over the waiting photographer, who promptly tried to move out of the way. There was a split second where time slowed down, and I imagined all the ways this was about to go wrong. None of them came to pass. I’m not really sure how that happened, but if 5 Finger happened to actually take a photo of that, it would be much appreciated!

Dog Breath then opened the back of his car to reveal a pile of margarita ingredients, and so the end of trail became a buffet of cocktails.

Religion was held just into the woods in little natural redwood amphitheater. Our Can’d visitors were brought up and elected to do this disjointed spastic dance. PCL was brought up for her vehicular mishap, as well as losing and then finding the hash chalices. Now, I was on my second cocktail, it was getting dark, and I was trying to RA while not falling off the log I was standing on, but I think the “found” chalices seemed awful different from the lost ones. Just sayin’.

Let’s see… TIMMY!!! drank for taking a swim and finding a flag; Penis Penis Penis drank for losing said flag; Achy Breaky, Fucked Over Fest, Dog Breath, and yours truly drank for mooning the mountain bikers; Hangs Loose fell off something; and Princess Di(arrhea) and Deadliest Snatch elected not to do trail.

Our hares of 5 Finger Discunt, Penis Penis Penis, and Randi Bambi were at last brought to the alter for their shitty trail. “Them, them…” you know the rest.

With circle firmly dug up by the dogs, and the pack suitable inebriated and hungry, we proceeded to On-on-on at Burger. Burgers were eaten, and beer was drunk, including Founder’s KBS on tap. I have been trying to drink this beer for years at this point, and finally getting to sample it was like angels dancing upon my palate. But, like, sexy leather-clad angels. It’s good.

From there, the hash went in peace, and some doubtlessly got a piece!

On-On!
~DungFu

Last week brought us out to celebrate the birthing of Fap Jack ans Shallow Hole, my deepest condolences to their families. We met at Castaway’s Bar on Portola. Apparently, there is some sort of professional sporting event going on right now so many hashers and mortals were surrounding the television with eyes hazed over from the evil glow of the machine.

The only real direction we got about trail was that there was a turkey eagle split, which many missed…. which might be because I laid a pack arrow next to a hare arrow that wasn’t very clear when I saw the pack on a street ahead. Maybe I shouldn’t carry chalk? Ok, I will stop immediately.

I THINK the T/E split was at Gladys and Nova, which if you followed my pack arrow….. you went directly to Nova and soon found yourself in the Capitola village, then risking your life and sanity crossing the train tressel. I have a height phobia and cursed and screamed at the hares during my entire crossing. If the crossing wasn’t bad enough you had to either jump a fence or wiggle under it at the end before a jaunt through the Jewlbox then taking Capitola Rd down to 41st, where people started to realize they were on the Eagle trail when they actually wanted to be on the turkey trail. Too late now guys!

We took Brommer down to 30th which eventually hooked us up with the butterfly forest path that goes along the backside of Moron Lake. LC was stashed right after you entered the path where you could also play on a tree swing. We took the path all the way down to the ocean then eventually linked back up with East Cliff before reaching beer check at the point.

The waves were wild and the sky was gloomy but this didn’t prevent Dung Fu & Dog Beath from entertaining the idea of a swim. After we all convinced them that we didn’t know CPR and that their dicks would end up lodged inside them for several day from the cold, they passed on the ocean dip this time! After enough cold and gusty winds we decided to head for religion which was being held at Wicked’s place.

Wicked welcomed us with good tunes, a warm fire and plenty of seats to park our asses in. RA for the night was Dung Fu. There were many crimes to be celebrated, Thmp and Deadliest Snatch were given down downs for something that I can’t remember, Hugh skipped the trail tressel and My little Boney skipped trail entirely. Shady Curtains tried to give me a down down for my pack arrow but really, it’s always the hare’s fault. Cum Fart Zone tried to read us a provocative story but started a book burning instead. Shady was given a down down for never cumming anymore, NCOMC celebrated his 125th analversary and TIMMY celebrated his 525th. We had no patches to give, suck is up boys. Randi Bambi was given a down down for ball exposure from his short shorts and last but not least, THE HARES!

Join the hash tonight at Callahan’s, both a turkey and an eagle trail will be provided by NCOMC.

On On Half-Minds
H2H

Last week’s trail was our anal lampshade hash, which started at Callahan’s on Water. Unfortunately, I didn’t see any anal lampshades… it appeared most hashers opted to wear them on their heads. The crowd at Callahan’s really had no idea what to do with us and I even saw some of them taking pictures of us, I hope we made it to someone’s snapchat or instagram with some clever captioning. #didtheyshowupdrunk hopefully they can do better than myself.

Our hares for the evening were Occassional Rapist and Shallow Hole, who said trail would be short but left out the part about the 1 mile YBF to start things off. As we were running the YBF I kept hearing dBASED saying that he was pretty sure we were on a YBF, but who listens to dBASED? He’s been oddly correct about trail recently. I don’t want to say that we might want to start listening to him, but…..

Once we reversed ourselves from the YBF along the levee path near Branciforte we crossed back over Water to the Medical Buildings across from Sake then reconnected with the levee near Ocean. Next we had to get across Ocean, which proves difficult even with a cross-walk. We have been feeling the tourists presence the last few weeks with Spring Break in full swing, so Ocean was jammed back with half-drunk and sun soaked tourists looking at their phones as we tried to cross. We all somehow made it! After the death crossing we hooked back up with the levee that took us back to River Street Lighting on Soquel where we take our traditional photo.

At beer check, we happened upon a homeless woman who was very interested in our lampshades… but mostly in our Manischewitz. She also tried to tell a joke, I didn’t find that it made sense or was very funny…. I am willing to laugh at myself, but only if it’s actually funny.

Back onto the levee we go and drop down Broadway into downtown. Running on Pacific is usually a pain in the butt, unless you have the pleasure of having Poon Doggy as your escort. I had the pleasure of running with this massive fur baby this week and people were literally jumping out of the way, parents were scooping up their children and the elderly were white-knuckling their walkers in hopes they wouldn’t get taken out by this guy. So, all the way down Pacific we go until we hit River Street and make a left towards highway 1. Right before the highway 1 cross-over we make a right onto Josephone Street where we found beer check.

As we are enjoying our cold beer in lampshades we see a child in a window who is waving at us. I bet he will grow up to be a hasher now. Not before long we were nicely asked by a parent to move it along, as we were keeping her child awake. Poor kid has to go to bed when the sun hasn’t set? I guess mom and dad need a break too. So, we walked down the levee to religion at the River St garage where we managed to not completely piss off the sword fighters this time.

RA for the evening was Dung Fu and his beer fairy was played by Genital Tongs. A few of us were called up for not wearing a lampshade, which included myself, Princess and Thmp (they did have lampshade shirts with A Christmas Story theme) and Genital Tongs. We also celebrated a miracle, Wicked made it to beer check! I think he even did trail! He can usually be found back at the bar or grabbing some dinner while the rest of us fools actually do trail.

Vaginal Repair Kit and CumFart Zone were given down-downs for sex on trail. I celebrated my 75th hash, I should really get a life. We sang Happy Birthday (fuck you) to Genital Tongs who survived another trip around the sun and of course, our hares were chided for another shitty trail.

As the pack dispersed Hangs Loose was nowhere to be found and his fur baby Poon Doggy was starting to wonder what crazy lady he was going to end up going home with that night. (I feel like that’s not too strange of a feeling for a hasher). Luckily, Shallow Hole and Hugh came up with the idea to call the number on Poon Doggy’s tag which immediately connected them to his human. Who would have thought that two Deadhead hippies would be so clever?

This week’s trail will start at Monty’s in Felton and have us in pursuit of Hugh Heifer and Genital Tongs. Check the page for more info.

May the Hash go in Peace!

On-on,
Ho to Housewife

Trail 843 started off well enough at JJ’s Saloon in Soquel, a common start for the hash. We had been pounded with rain for days before and even got a teaser about an hour before trail. But really, how awesome was the sky and the DOUBLE FUCKING RAINBOW that we all saw on the way to the hash? Or at least those of us who were brave enough to face the rain. Our hares for the evening were Dung Fu and Twisted Fister. Twisted has been faking a hurt back and just spending all his time with Toilet Baby, training her to get beers from the fridge so we haven’t seen him too much lately.

Trail took us straight into the hills then directly into the shiggy. We were teased past the high school and got a cotton candy tasting nastiness LC early on trail. I took a sip of it but ditched the rest. This is also where I ditched Toilet Baby back with Twisted because despite the lies Twisted tries to tell you, she is not runner friendly… at least not with me.

After LC we hit the turkey-eagle split. Turkey trail went up the HUGE ASS HILL in blue balls park. We wrapped around then descended into some serious shiggy (There was a bitch out trail option for the sissies), where we had to use a rope to descend into a dry creek bed filled with trash and debris and probably some human poop only to have to pull ourselves out 100 yards later with another rope. Thankfully the king of the homeless camp was on top of the climb, supervising us.

As we exited back out onto Soquel I thought for sure that trail was nearing an end as we had experienced some intensity on trail. Nope! We still had another 2 miles of circling around to complete before we ended up at beer check in Lion’s Park. Miraculously, no cops showed up! I was shocked, seeing that this was the longest beer check I have ever experienced in my life. People were missing, Dung Fu ran back and forth to the bar maybe twice looking for people before the pack decided to leave and head to religion.

Apparently, the extra time at beer check allowed for extra beers and BOY, oh BOY was it a shit-show at religion. Accu kept saying he wanted to get it over quick but hashers couldn’t focus for more then 30 seconds before getting into a side conversation with their drunk mate. Myself and Cock Throbbin almost made a mid-religion getaway, but how could I tell you tales of religion if I wasn’t there?

What can I tell you? Thmp-Thmp was our beer fairy for the evening, Princess let him wear the crown for a little while before rightfully taking it back. Moose Terd Pie was called up for something or another and gave us a drunk rambling of the landmark history of Soquel before being yanked back into circle. Bacon Queef celebrated her 50th hash with Surf City, happy 50th analversary… Get a Life! Right behind her was her hubs, Just Foot Pussy who was given a down down for hurting his pussy foot and hobbling along trail all gimpy and stuff. Wicked and Finger Nips were given a down down for being smart…. I mean… skipping beer check.

We even had a naming! Just TIm was given the name Vaginal Repair Kit for his handiness in repairing CumFartZone’s private jewelry with his contractor skills. We said goodbye to some out of town visitors that night too, who had to catch a 6:30am flight out of San Jose the next morning. Yes, their flight LEFT at 6:30am…. way too early for me… but they still came out to the hash!

Last order of business for the evening was the hares, who tried to kill us…. but we still love!

This past Thursday’s trail brought the pack out to The Over the Hill Gang Saloon. I had never been here, never really had a draw for me. I arrived alongside Shallow Hole and as we were walking through their swinging doors in the front several hashers were coming outside. I said “Oh, are we late?”, I assumed they were going to circle up. Turns out they were going outside because they couldn’t handle the cigarette smoke inside. This bar never left 1850. Smoke filled room, roulette table off to the side and what appeared to be an empty gun rack. Booze, gambling and guns.. seems reasonable.

Our hares for the evening were dBased and Virgin Hare Courtesy Flush, who decided he should dress as Abe Linclon. Perhaps he was trying to dress as a man of the times so that he would fit in with the bar décor. I will tell you that by the end of trail I did wanted to put a bullet in his head….

Trail started out heading towards 41st on Portola but quickly jerked us behind the shopping center where Castaway’s is. Apparently trail went back in the neighborhoods where we would have had to jump a fence (had trail been clearly marked). Unfortunately, most of the pack completely missed this section and just played chicken with the cars in the parking lot and crossing back onto Portola before hitting a (what seemed) very early Liquor Check behind Frenchy’s: Santa Cruz’s finest adult store. The Liquor also turned out to be nasty ass bum wine.

We took 41st down to East Cliff where we went straight for a very long time before having to risk our lives jumping rocks and walkways with waves pounding into the rocks 5 feet away from us and of course it was pitch dark. We got pretty turned around on E Cliff in the Moran Lake area all the while dodging cars in the fog….cause there was no sidewalk….. We took 25th and 26th back up to Portola then down 30th, where we had to run through a false, then took the butterfly, I mean shitty mud walk down to the beach where we were greeted with a warm fire, beer and smores.

Religion was held at Wicked’s house, who always supplies lots of chairs for our hasher asses and a great fire to keep us warm. He also played David Bowie all night, in tribute to the man. Accuprick was our religious advisor for the evening and TransCuntnanal was our beer fairy. First order was to punish those who skipped trail and just showed up for the end, Wicked and Bareback Unicrack drank for their sin. We celebrated Just Foot Pussy’s 50th Surf City hash, get a life dude. Hangs Loose doesn’t learn and was given a down down for wearing a Boston Marathon jacket to the hash, the most racist of all races!

There was a large group of hashers who received their happi coats and were given a down down to help break it in. We also had a virgin, Virgin Tim, who CumFartZone made cum. Virgin Tim wasted no time and gave us a flash and a little jiggle at the same time.

On On On was pack’s will, my ass went home.

Ho to Housewife