Redux,

Rainbow Butthole attempted to redeem herself after the tragic events of Hash 1192 in Scotts Valley last week by being a repeat offender hare. She even requested previous co-hare My Sister’s Dildo accompany her. However, upon seeing the chosen route, Dildo feigned illness and withdrew her name from the hare-trio listing. That should have served as a warning to us. However, sadly, half-minds took no note of the change and were blindly led like lambs to the slaughter.

Festivities were strong this week and were enhanced by the return of long ago hashers Choka-cola and (current) husband Hairy Potter. These two fine representatives of Hashdom took a few years away from the game to spawn and have now passed temporary care of their progeny to one of their parents who lives nearby allowing them to return to their rollicking days of yesteryear. It was also of note Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy returned to the fold after an extended absence. They have recently completed salvaging a deteriorating abode from the scrap heap and reside within courtesy of the attached unit for which they receive an exorbitant sum of money monthly.

The Blue Lagoon consists of a number of different rooms, dance venues and a pool table. None of these did we visit today. We had no reason to go further than the first bar we came to.

We were staging our own Pride Parade so the attire was varied but was also, as is typical for Surf City, bizarre bordering on outlandish. I suggest visiting with the Flash as you will not believe any description I care to render. Well, it’s quite a spell past the advertised 6:33 hares-out time,I fear something has gone amiss even prior to beginning this hash. Cum You Will Not is present(and drinking heavily) and faithful companion animal Spott’d Dick is at her side as always but the second and third hares are AWOL. Ah, Rainbow Butthole has just arrived and is sweating as if she’s just pre-laid the entirety of trail. With more experience she’ll learn to pre-lay well in advance of on-out time and then such behavior will be more difficult to prove. But now she says My Sister’s Dildo failed to meet her at Beer Check location so she had to run all the way on-in. We now know Beer Check is more than a block or two away. Rainbow was quick to deliver Instructions of Trail and made them mercifully brief as no one believes a word she says anyway. Quick though she was, it’s such a late hour by now that many of the pack are too intoxicated to WALK, let alone RUN. Hares away.

The obligatory 15 minute lead time was passed walking some of the hounds around in hopes of reviving them. This ploy was met with limited success. After the allotted time, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for and got a Circleup for Introductions and elicited responses from the following hounds: Baker’s Dozen’t, TIMMY!!, Chippin’ Ballz, Virgin Scott, Just Kamryn, Pink Cherry Licker, Clearly Not A Hooker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Bacon Queef, Just Foot Pussy, Occasional Rapist, Hairy Potter, Choka-cola, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged contingency was Boulder and Junk Puncher. Spott’d Dick was co-haring. On-out!

A hare arrow pointed the pod north on Pacific though there was some initial confusion as some wondered if it was a residual marking from the Chalk Talk given Virgin Scott. No matter, off we went. Pacific was abused to it’s ending point where it was determined something had gone wrong. A brief backtrack found marker pointing the pod onto Plaza Lane and coming to Cedar Street. Here we went on-right and on-right again at Mission Street. Now we’re standing waiting for the all clear signal to cross Mission and turn on-right onto Water Street. A few of the braver (read: foolish) dashed across Water Street at various points other than the pedestrian crossings. It was then on past River Street and continued until Reed Way where the promised Turkey/Eagle split manifested itself. I’m guessing the Eagle takes Berkeley Way to North Branciforte. There’s some elegant homes along this street, let’s Eagle today.

It was so done, the Eagles took Berkeley Way to North Branciforte where they rejoined the Turkeys and both clans continued along North Branciforte. This lasted until Keystone Avenue where an on-right was dictated followed by another on-right onto Poplar Avenue. This was another boring, straight stretch of concrete which took us across Water Street and then across Soquel Avenue. A quick on-left and on-right put us on Darwin Street. When Darwin ceases at Gault Street, the litter was led on-right and to the beautifully remodeled home of Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy, AKA Slum Landlords. Yes, they’ve evolved into capitalists. Reputedly, there was to be a Liquor Check here but none manifested it’s presence in the brief time I spent there.

We moved on. At Seabright, trail turned on-left and past the (now) attractive house where Puff resided for 40 years. At Broadway, trail went on-right to Pine Street where we were directed on-left. Pine was used until Pleasant Street where we were led on-right to Caledonia and an on-left to Peck Terrace and across to Ocean View Way and then on-left into Ocean View Park. Beer Check location?

No such luck. The park was probably deemed too scenic for our dastardly duo of hares. We traipsed directly through the park, on-down to East Cliff Drive and on-left to undertake the on-up to the top of the hill just for the pleasure of taking the on-right and on-down to the trestle towering over the mighty San Lorenzo River. This put us in the massive Boardwalk parking lot. After some aimless wandering we discovered marker on Third Street. We tip-toed quietly through Beach Flats along Third Street and were soon treated to Beer Check just prior to Riverside Avenue. A substantial percentage of passing cars slowed to view this interesting sight. Thinking that soon one of these vehicles may exhibit that dreaded black and white paint scheme, we concluded our business here rather quickly and undertook the remainder of trail. There seems to have been a number of options, or at least a number of them created. I discovered some chalk on Raymond Street followed by an on-right onto Leibrandt Avenue. This led to Laurel Street Extension and then onto the river levee. This dangerous path would not end until the top floor of the River Street car park.

Once reassembled and beer in hand, Accuprick turned on his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of what transpired once that machine was up to operating temperature: the Turkeys that inadvertently ended up on the second Eagle trail were mocked; Cold Smegma Kamikaze who unknowingly short-cutted to the site of Religion; backsliders were punished, Virgin Scott was welcomed; Cold Smegma was awarded the Hashit and an announcement pertaining to next week’s hash was made. And the hares…Rainbow Butthole, Cum You Will Not and Wines Like A Bitch acting as stand-in for My Sister’s Dildo. There was some nice scenery, that was about it. On-on-on was held at Woodstock Pizza and those present participated in Thursday Night Trivia and considering they missed the first two rounds, made a quite acceptable showing…even drunk as they were!

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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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 Permission 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 fifteenth day of June in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greetings,

And welcome to Hotel Hell courtesy of Rainbow Butthole, My Sister’s Dildo and Wines Like A Bitch. They chose the Sheraton as Point A for their trail most likely due to the fact they did not wish any of their friends in Felton to see them being hashers. Right down Scotts Valley Drive is favorite Steel Bonnet Brewing. Why did we not start there? Well, the logical explanation is our hare-trio frequents that establishment and, again, did not wish to be seen with hashers and as they will never be staying at the Sheraton, it was a safe place and would allow them to retain their dignity.

So, that explains the bizarre starting point. However, even days after completing this trail, I am unable to explain trail itself, much less their motivation behind such a dastardly deed. This trail featured more hills than the Pike’s Peak Hill Climb. At least the people participating in that sporting event get to drive. So, this explains the motivations behind where we began this fiasco from but leaves open the thoughts going through the half-minds of our trio of terror. That will be left up to the privacy of your own thoughts to suss.

The pack straggled in slowly and that includes your Scribe whom does not know the difference between a Hilton and a Sheraton. Once fully assembled and only slightly behind the announced start time, Rainbow Butthole made an attempt at Instructions of Trail. While not especially informative, her soliloquy may actually have comprised the most successful aspect of this trail. She made a number of promises about trail. Sadly, I have come to the conclusion Rainbow Butthole has never made a promise she couldn’t break. Hares off.

The next fifteen minutes were passed amiably residing in lounge chairs on the veranda at the Sheraton. No wait staff though, we had to hump our own drinks from the bar. I assume business is not booming at this particular time of year.

When we absolutely positively could not postpone any longer, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following hounds: Dung-Fu Grip, Baker’s Dozen’t, Rubik’s Pube, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Man AIDS, Womb With A View, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing the four-leg contingency was Junk Puncher and Boulder. There’s your cast of characters, let’s see what they do this evening.

The first hundred yards of trail was rather strange. We sneaked off the deck down the back stairs that led, basically speaking, to the dumpster. There we encountered Broke Bench Mountain, AKA Scrooge, attempting to salvage a decade-old cooler that Beermeister TIMMY!! had decided was no longer worth repairing.

While that was a rather bizarre sight, far worse awaited us on this trail we were to learn. After that interesting sight, we turned on-right and came to Scotts Valley Drive. A solved check here turned the troops on-left to begin a rather dreary stretch of concrete terminated by one of the two promised Turkey/Eagle splits. Let’s on-left with the Eagles down Carbonero Way. Just after crossing Bean Creek, the pod was pointed on-right into a group of businesses. At the very end of the parking lot was another bizarre sight.

It did not take long to determine the hares’ laughter was due to our crossing Bean Creek again…in the water this time though. It was, mercifully, a short visit and we emerged into a parking lot and made our way back to Scotts Valley Drive and went on-left. We continued on this dreary stretch until just passed Malone’s Grille where an arrow pointed us on-left onto Oak Creek Boulevard to begin the first of a number of on-ups. This street curves on-right and to a gate presumably to prevent short-cutters from tearing through this residential area. What it was NOT able to stop was our hares from staging a Liquor Check.

Leaving Liquor Check we continued along Oak Creek Blvd….and continued climbing. Oak Creek eventually crested and then turned on-right to begin a on-down equivalent to all our on-ups combined. It was damn steep in other words. This dumped us onto Glen Canyon Road where we went on-right to Mount Hermon Road where an on-left was dictated. This was taken ON-UP (again) to an on-right onto La Cuesta Drive and…another…on-up. After dealing with that, the litter was led on-right onto Quarterhorse Lane. (where did THAT name come from?) A short jaunt later we went on-right on Arabian Way. (another horse reference?) This was possibly the only wise decision our hares made, had they gone on-left they would have come into the sights of not one, not two, but THREE police cars. (this week’s featured picture)

Arabian Way will eventually curve a few times and then put you muzzle-to-muzzle with Hocus Pocus Park. We enjoyed a stroll though the park and then made an on-right onto Whispering Pines Drive. Whispering Pines morphs into Scotts Valley Drive after crossing Mount Hermon Road. Well, at least we’re finally headed towards home and are done with on-ups. Not too far along Scotts Valley Drive an arrow led the litter on-left and into a small park surrounding City Hall…and the Police Station, AKA the Hound Pound. Much fun and frivolity ensued as the hares had a number of games planned and cupcakes celebrating Wines Like a Bitch’s birthday. The Flash will chronicle these antics better than any Scribe would ever be able to. Darkness has overtaken us so we undertook the trip on-in to a parking lot beside the Sheraton for Religion.

Once ensconced atop the beer trough, Dung-Fu Grip lit the Religion candle. Here’s a sampling of down-downs, both justified and unjustified, issued the evening: Dung-Fu Grip for drinking an NA Guinness(why would such even be made?!?), our visitor from San Diego was welcomed, Baker’s Dozen’t and Occasional Rapist for losing things on trail, Puff for going to the wrong hotel, Wines Like A Bitch for his birthday, Clearly Not A Hooker for completing 25 trail with us. And the hares…(and the hares). They received kudos for Beer Check antics but no compliment on trail. Just seeing them again made the RA ill so he called for an end to this hash and I hereby do the same for this Trash.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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 Permission 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 eighth day of June in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greater Purpose,

That was Point A for Hash 1190, certainly NOT a term applicable to what our hare-pair had in mind for us. You may recall Courtesy Flush’s last visit to this area, we narrowly averted a loss of life that particular time as the tide swept two harriers and one dog off the rocks and out to sea. We were promised such would not reoccur this time. (Hares lie though)

We convened at Greater Purpose Brewing and immediately commandeered an area where sol could shine upon us.

Attendance looked promising, especially considering who the hares were. The outdoor area began to fill as zero hour approached. Not long past the promised time, the hares strode to the front of the pack and delivered a detailed Instructions of Trail. The urn containing our elixir of life would be buried beneath the sand and mine sweepers would be provided to allow us to excavate it. Or something like that. After we heard this, we stood mouth agape and heard none of the other details tossed our way. Let’s pretend we did not hear such and continue socializing. Hares out.

Little if any discussion of impending trail were spoken during the fifteen minute lead time. As a matter of fact, the hares declared they would not require that much time. This would indicated an unprecedented level of pre-lay in my estimation. Be that as it may, we opted not to surrender valuable drinkin’ time so the full fifteen minutes they got. As a matter of fact, when co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions, a few hounds opted to continue swilling away. Such as…

Circleup proceeded with their voices being heard from afar. In addition to those two hoodlums, these other hounds barked as well: Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Leaky Rubber, Wicked Retahted, Clearly Not A Hooker, Accuprick, Cum You Will Not, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hound contingency was Junk Puncher, Spott’d Dick and Boulder. We have marshaled our forces for the coming battle, time to on-out.

Trail exited the parking lot heading east to 17th Avenue. There we were turned on-left and away we went. And went. And went. Finally we were turned on-left onto the road leading to Simpkins Swim Center. Once safely past not one but two Sheriff vehicles we were pointed on-left into the Schwan Lake area of Twin Lakes State Beach. Thinking Liquor Check may be located within, everyone took the known circle jerk to the lake and back up the other side. Partway along this trail, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left into a second portion of the area. Marker again pointed the pack on-left but someone had placed a pack arrow ignoring the marker. Normally, this would be viewed as a kindness from FRB’s to those farther back. Sadly, those that followed the short-cutting arrow bypassed Liquor Check.

Trail proceeded to the tracks and turned on-left. After almost half a mile of riding the rails, we arrived at 7th Avenue and the promised Turkey/ Eagle split. The Turkeys are going on-left. It’s a beautiful day, let’s fly with the Eagles. Eagles went on-right and discovered a check at 7th and Mello Lane.

On-left onto Mello would be the correct choice. (Trivia: Mello Lane was once home to Apple Bobber) Mello Lane ends at a staircase that will deposit you in the upper harbor. There it was on-left and around the horn of the harbor and down the other side all the way to the Murray Street Bridge. There it was across the harbor and on-right onto Lake Avenue. For some good scenery, the hares directed the Eagles to on-right and on-down to the walkway beside the harbor then on-left in front of the Crow’s Nest, snake around harbor beach and then on-right onto East Cliff Drive. This is a stunningly dangerous section of road fit for neither pedestrian nor bicyclist due to it’s narrowness and close proximity to speeding tourists. Mercifully, the first available on-right, that being Prospect Street, was taken.

Prospect was taken until an on-right on 12th Avenue which eventually plops you onto the sand. This is when the search for the cooler began.

Eventually the cooler was collected and the celebration began. Once the DFL’s arrived the party was relocated to Black’s Beach and, serendipitously, a group leaving bequeathed us their already-flaming fire. Once reassembled, Accuprick fired up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: TIMMY!! for piloting the beer wagon full speed ahead over a speed bump and grabbing some major air, IHOP for finding the beer on the beach, Clearly Not A Hooker for attending the Mount Madonna campout, Wicked Retahted for suggesting we throw metal stakes into the fire(he thought they were meat steaks), analversaries and those that missed/skipped Liquor Check. Oh, yeah, the hares.

This was sufficient cause for Accuprick to declare an end to this Hash and I hereby do the same for this Trash.

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-fifth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with a respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

A dare,

Was issued to the pack at Sante Adairius Brewery Thursday the twelfth. Foolishly, a number of we half-minds accepted the challenge. Occasional Rapist and her partner-in-slime, Steamy Baanorrhea dared us to hash their trail. Later, we were to learn this was due to it’s poor quality rather than it’s complexity or any challenging components.

The sun was out and Sante Adairius beertenders were pouring quickly and liberally as the pack assembled.

There were announcements pertaining to monies raised at last week’s Red Dress and shirts and patches were distributed as applicable. For a welcome change, no mention was made of any hashers still in the hospital(or jail for that matter) from injuries sustained on trail.

Not too far past the announced time, Occasional Rapist strolled to a prominent location to deliver Instructions of Trail. When asked about her co-hare she said, Oh, he’s already left. WHAT?!? What manner of chicanery is transpiring here? Hares leaving at separate times, hares being allotted more than 15 minutes of lead time? Worse yet, it’s Steamy, a harrier capable of running long distances quickly as it is and now he gets MORE? This is manifest skullduggery in my opinion. Occasional stated Beer Check was so close the hares feared Turkeys would arrive prior to the beer. That would be disastrous and a serious Crime of Trail but hare incompetence does not give them license to arrange trail for their own personal convenience. Be that as it may, Occasional related no information of value and skipped merrily away leaving the pack with a sense of incompleteness.

Speechless, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain eventually recovered sufficiently to call for Circleup for Introductions and heard muffled responses from the following hounds: Banana Basher, TIMMY!!, Baker’s Dozen’t, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Virgin Brian, I’d Do ‘er, Cum You Will Not, International House of Pussy, Snake Me Anywhere, dBASED, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hound contingency was Spott’d Dick, Junk Puncher and Boulder. The stage is set and the actors have taken their places; let the play begin.

From Sante Adairius it was an immediate on-right through a mobile home park where we weaved our way to Hill Street. A solved check pointed the pod on-right to Capitola Avenue where the promised Turkey/Eagle split manifested itself. It’s a beautiful day, let’s fly with the Eagles and see what’s in store for them. The Eagles executed another on right onto Capitola Avenue, crossed over Highway 1 and made an on-left onto Bellevue Street. Bellevue ends and forced an on-right onto Lafayette Street which itself ends at Soquel Drive where an on-left was dictated.

At East Walnut an on-left was made which delivered the pack to the intersection with Main Street and a check. It would have been nice to go on-left to Beer Thirty but that was not to be. We went directly across onto the Heart of Soquel Parkway Trail. We’ve been through here before, as a matter of fact dBASED made us climb fences to take the path illegally before it was opened. We took a left at a fork and came to Porter Street across the street from Redz Hair Salon owner by our own Summer’s Yeast.

An on-left was indicated here followed by an on-right onto West Walnut Street. When West Walnut ends, it was on-left onto Robertson Street. Robertson ends at Soquel Wharf Road and we transitioned onto it and then on-left and on-down to cross Soquel Creek and into Peery Park. (Editorial Opinion: Labeling this hilly, dirty, unmaintained area beneath trees as a park should be an infraction of the law) We were directed on-right through the ‘park’ and onto Riverview Drive. Riverview Drive is another false naming as, thanks to the houses on the right side, you can’t even come close to seeing Soquel Creek which, incidentally, is in and of itself a false naming as at best it’s a small creek.

Along Riverview Drive, Cold Smegma Kamikaze and Puff were apprehended by Courtesy Flush…on his bike! He said he misread trail announcement and thought on-out time would be around 8 instead of 7! Whatever he was drinking at the time, I do not wish to have any of. Anyway, he followed marker and caught Kamikaze and Puff. We three made the on-right onto Riverview Avenue(another misleading name) and advanced towards the train trestle. Listening to Courtesy, probably relating the tale of woe pertaining to his most recent failed relationship, we missed the on-right arrow onto the Soquel Creek Park Footway. Suffice it to say it was quite a while before we came back and discovered our error. Trail took the walkway to Stockton Street and pointed us onto the Esplanade where we curved around onto Monterey Avenue.

Partway on-up the Monterey Avenue hill, the Eagles were directed on-right. It was obvious they would utilize the (long and steep) stairs leading on-up to Grand Avenue atop Depot Hill. The Turkey trail was little better, it merely took the inclined path slightly farther along. On-right once to the top took the troops along the pedestrian section of Grand Avenue to Liquor Check. The walkway ends at Hollister Drive which was used until Escalona Drive where the back-together Turkeys and Eagles were pointed on-right. Escalona ends but a locals-only path takes you down a small gully, past poison oak and on-up to Grove Lane which is actually little more than a driveway.

We soon transitioned on-right onto the railroad tracks but for less than a hundred feet where it was on-left and on-up to Park Avenue. We proceeded across Park and onto Cabrillo Street followed by a quick on-right onto Balboa Avenue. Balboa was taken till Coronado Street on-left and a block later on-right onto Sir Francis Avenue. An on-left onto Sir Francis led to an on-right a short block later onto Cortez Street. A short distance later the BN mark was observed and an on-right brought us into Cortez Park.

Upon completing our business here, we undertook an on-in that amounted to over three-quarters of a mile. What torture! We exited the park to Columbus Drive and went on-right to Sir Francis Avenue where we went on-left to Kennedy Drive which was taken back to Sante Adairius. Once there, Religious Adviser Accuprick fired up his torture machine. Here’s a partial listing of some of the down-downs, justified and not, he issued this evening: Cum You Will Not for a physical altercation with a woman she encountered on trail; Courtesy Flush for thinking the Hash started at 8PM; Virgin Brian was welcomed; backsliders were punished; Cum You Will Not for not knowing so much as one puny hash tune; those that opted to hash trail on a bike and analversaries. Oh, yeah. The accursed hare-pair were rightfully punished too.

Spanking the hares brought an end to this hash and the same for this Trash.

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 s subject open to debate.

By Special Permission 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 seventeenth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Congratulations,

Most, if not all of you, survived Red Dress Saturday the seventh. A substantial percentage of you looked a little worse for the wear by the time the pack was dismissed but hey, we buys our ticket and we takes our chances.

The assembly process, incidentally without the benefit of any instructions, began far prior to most of us arriving. Rat Pussy came up short of a necessary piece required for the keg to operate properly so he was off to Scotts Valley at the height of a Saturday commute. Wicked Retahted had his first stint as a real Haberdasher and was assailed by dozens of ravenous hashers and he flourished under pressure. Fap Jack, whom we barely got to see all day, was knee deep in food preparation for ungrateful hashers. Accuprick was up before dawn cooking meat for you and then carefully packing it for the trip from Seacliff to London Nelson. Cumz Out My Nose played Latino and prepared rice and beans for 75 people long before we were awake on Saturday. Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Dung-Fu Grip and Baker’s Dozen’t pitched in as assistant chefs. Cumz Out My Nose was assigned the unenviable job of checking people in and chasing down the thieving dogs that tried partying without paying. Shallow Hole, who doesn’t even live here anymore, was conscripted to take in the money for the raffle and make sure nothing kinky happened with the ticket dispersal. Steamy Baanorrhea stayed after most people were gone to clean up the mess left by eighty piglets. Broke Bench Mountain had nothing more to do than hold this entire thing together and answer questions for which the correct answer was as of yet unknown. Apologies to any I missed as I occupied myself with dodging responsibility so I did not witness everything that transpired.

We need not dwell on the fierce socializing that can transpire between six dozen hashers. There were many salacious stares and provocative suggestions thrown around, of that much I am aware. I do not know the acceptance percentage but by the time the pack was dismissed I noted the many of the animals went two-by-two.

Let’s move forward to Instructions of Trail being issued by co-hares dBASED and (second) wife Occasional Rapist. They were standard fare due most likely to the premise that no one would listen anyway. I did take note, however, that a valid ID would be required. I did not know if this meant we would be entering a bar or if it was simply meant as insurance against unnecessary police harassment. Fifty people in red dresses may attract the attention of local constabulary even in a town as weird as Santa Cruz.

Broke Bench Mountain then thanked everyone for their attendance and gave his sales pitch for purchasing raffle tickets and reminding everyone this is a benefit for women undergoing treatment for cancer as much as it is an opportunity for us to consume all the beer we can pour down our pipes. Circelup for Introductions was staged on the playground behind London Nelson Center due to the size of the throng and elicited some open-mouth stares from those around us as names were announced. On-out time.

Trail went on-left from the Washington Street exit from London Nelson and on-left again on Laurel Street to Center Street where the Turkey/Eagle split was observed. Six miles in a red dress and a stiff breeze does not intrigue me, I’ll take the Turkey option today, thank you. Eagles continued along Laurel towards Pacific. Turkeys took an on-right onto Center Street and took great pleasure in passing by the police station unimpeded. At the traffic circle with Pacific Avenue and West Cliff Drive, Pacific was chosen and when Pacific ends we continued south. This took us onto the wharf. Incidentally, at 2745 feet, slightly more than a half mile, it’s the longest wooden wharf on the West Coast and the longest drive-on wharf on the West Coast as well. Sorry for the digression.

This half mile jaunt would eventually have us climbing some stairs and arriving at Vino by the Sea. Once you negotiated the walkway that was unprotected from the stiff breeze, you would find yourself in a cozy little establishment and one that still offers pitchers of beer. This gave rise to an extended social event. Many hashers signed the guest register…using their hash handles! This must have given the proprietors a good laugh as they read them later. Eventually though, as must happen to all good things, it ended and we outed back to land and took an on-left on-up the Beach Street hill and transitioned onto West Cliff Drive.

We formed a blockchain along West Cliff until we reached the Surfer Statue. Here the obligatory gestures were made: the ever-vigilant surfer was draped in red and clambered upon by innumerable harriers and harriettes.

After pushing this public display of debauchery as far as we felt comfortable with, we moved on. We went directly across West Cliff onto Pelton Avenue. Liquor Check was on-left in Lighthouse Field, but sadly, it was missed by many. One block later we went on-right on Eucalyptus Avenue then on-left onto Avenue A and the next on-right onto Lighthouse Avenue. We can fast forward many blocks until finally arriving at Bay Street where an on-right was indicated. Bay was taken until the parking lot for the Dream Inn through which we short-cutted to West Cliff Drive and over the Howe bridge built in 1918 (rehabilitated in 2000). We took the steps on-right and on-down to Pacific Avenue and circled on-right around the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary Visitors’ Center and into Depot Park. From there it was a quick trek up Center Street and back to London Nelson.

The face-feed occupied the next half hour or so and was a welcome relief from a serious bout of doing trail and drinking.

Once most were sated, Dung-Fu Grip and Accuprick fired up their RA machine. Here’s a partial listing of down-downs, justified and unjustified, issued by our duo RA’s: Virgins were welcomed, visitors were welcomed, hashers that wore the same dress were chided, volunteers were thanked and of course the hares were punished for shitty trail.

Following Religion, the raffle was held. Cumz Out My Nose and Shallow Hole conducted this part of Red Dress quite successfully too. Everyone appeared happy with their winnings and good money was secured for WomenCare as well.

This pretty much provided a climax to the day’s proceedings. Then came the task of making the place clean and respectable for it’s next group on inhabitants. After this many hashers headed to nearby Lupulo’s and points beyond such as The Asti and the Jury Room. This lasted until last call. No one rose early on Sunday I dare say.

RDR 2022 is in the record books and was more successful than anticipated as we still are in pandemic mode. This gives us a good base to expand upon next year and we greatly appreciate the efforts of all that attended.

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 eleventh day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe