Hallowe’en,

Struck Surf City early this year and Trick or Treat became trick only. Or maybe I should say ‘prick’! Harsh? Well, maybe but then again so was this trail. Horror story details to follow.

Beginning from club favorite Vino-by-the-Sea(even though this is Monterey Bay) made the merry members of this madness even merrier. We also ran into Apple Bobber. Apparently his band performs here so this has now become his hang. He was, however, unable to hash as it was his night to prepare dinner for his girlfriend. The pack assembled on the breezeway as the weather was stellar. The early evening sun shone it’s warming rays directly on us.

For an unknown reason, our hare-pair, that being Cumz Out My Nose(fully healed obviously) and Broke Bench Mountain, chose to wait quite a while past 6:33 before delivering Instructions of Trail. Most likely this was due to the fact there were a paltry eight hounds in attendance, a rather small turnout for a beautiful day right here on our very own wharf. Where is everyone? Anyway, Instructions of Trail were rather mundane. Something, we were soon to sadly discover, would NOT be indicative of trail itself. Hares out.

In approximately fifteen minutes acting-GM dBASED drove the mob down the steps for Circleup for Introductions on the performance stage and heard from: Clearly Not A Hooker, TIMMY!!, Cum, U Will Not!, Occasional Rapist, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. For our canine contingency we saw Spot’d Dick, Junk Puncher and Scratch and Sniff co-haring. Pack out.

We can fast forward a quarter of a mile back to land. The promised Turkey/Eagle split was observed at Beach Street.

While many of us thought it strange the Turkeys would be directed on-up the hill towards the Dream Inn while the Eagles stayed on flat ground, we had ultimate faith our hares knew what they were doing. On-up it was for we Turkeys. Upon reaching the Dream Inn, we were directed to cross West Cliff Drive and on-left to Bay Street. There was a check at Bay. TIMMY!! proceeded farther along West Cliff and was perturbed to find an uncapped Check; two marks and nothing more. Puff went on-right on Bay and soon encountered that coveted third mark. On-on! Fast forward to California Street where a check was observed. TIMMY!! and Puff split the duty with Puff finding a damn long false on-right on California. In the end it was Occasional Rapist finding trail on-right and on-down into the depths of Neary Lagoon. A check at the bottom of the hill yielded an on-left onto the pontoon bridge floating on the water.

At a Y-split trail went on-left and found: it’s dead end and a back check both! Normally, this would be acceptable but there was a hare arrow just upon entering the bridge. So, remembering this, Clearly Not A Hooker climbed the fence blocking off the other section of the bridge. It was closed for removal of the tule and cattail grasses clogging the waterway. She soon returned saying a section of the bridge has been removed to allow passage of machinery and she refuses to swim in Neary Lagoon! So, it was time to circle back around to the Chestnut Street entrance. Once there we merged with the Eagle trail. Again, we considered this strange as it appears the Eagles came here directly from the check on Beach Street, barely a quarter of a mile. Something is wrong here!

Just as we started to take the walkway leading to Laurel Street, Occasional phoned and found everyone was waiting on us at Beer Check! This was due to the fact the hares HAD reversed the markings at the Turkey/Eagle split and those that took the Eagle trail arrived at Beer Check half an hour ago! Consequently, the remainder of trail was ignored and the rest of the pack made for Beer Check at the end of Cliff Street overlooking town. Upon our arrival there, business was concluded quickly as the hour was growing late. We soon slithered over to the area behind Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary Exploration Center. (the name is bigger than the building!) Religion was staged here with dBASED at the helm. Here’s a sampling of the brief Religion: Circle Gherkin’ for hashng his first Turkey trail, albeit it unintentionally; Clearly Not a Hooker for hashing her first Eagle trail though it, too, was unintentional; Cumz Out My Nose for mixing up the designations at the Turkey/Eagle split. Both hares merely remained at the altar for the tradition thrashing of the hares. That was it, that was enough! This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at the Boardwalk Bowl.

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 become 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 remains a subject open to debate.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end i desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-65.

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 September in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Happy Labor Day,

A holiday for most of you peons that still slave for the almighty American dollar. Though you may not enjoy your job, think your boss is a jerk(a boss is just a double S.o.B…backwards!) your weekly woes are vastly superior to the labor we were forced to endure this past Thursday. Cum,U Will Not!, Steamy Baanorrhea and Hugh Heifer, all three mild mannered maniacs and (reasonably) well liked in the kennel, made themselves somewhat LESS well liked this night. Explanation to follow.

We began from the beautiful venue of Chaminade Resort and Spa. Stellar surroundings, tennis courts (where’s the pickle ball courts?), gym, sauna, two(count ’em, TWO) heated pools, the list of amenities continues practically ad infinitum. But us? Well, no, of course not. We were directed to a small park with a fountain filled with malodorous water and an ashtray so people could smoke around us. The weather was as dreary as our surroundings. We were coerced into drinking from a vessel as being seen with beer bottles in hand would have allowed security to send out butts packing. So, in short, an alarmingly inauspicious beginning to this Hash.

In order to minimize potential casualties, the hare-pair(where’s Hugh?) delivered a short version of instructions of Trail and outed themselves. Well, this is probably also due in part to the fact neither are accomplished public speakers. Their ardent hope was to complete trail prior to darkness falling upon our little heads. THEY avoided the dreariness of the darkness, the pack , however, did not and was shrouded in darkness long before trail evaporated.

Fifteen minutes was spent communing with our drinks and looking nonchalant when security passed by in the golf carts or guests passed the park on the way to the main building. Many of the parents recognized no-accounts and lowly louts upon seeing us and drew their children closer when passing. Upon the expiration of the lead time, co-GM Broke Bench Mountain requested a Circlelup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: dBASED, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Jersey Lunchbox, Snake Me Anywhere, Oral D, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a minuscule canine contingency this week consisting of only Spot’d Dick and Junk Puncher. Cumz Out My Nose was dog-sitting Scratch and Sniff who had visited the vet today for the snippy-snippy procedure. Pack out.

Much of this trail was on unnamed (unauthorized?) trails. Consequently this Trash will be an inaccurate recreation of the actual trail. No one cares anyway. Trail proceeded directly to an on-down trail consisting of leaf-slickened steps and little more. This trail(unauthorized?) soon curved on-left and circled beneath the main building and crossed the road leading on-up from the cemetery at the bottom of the hill conveniently located adjacent to Dominican Hospital. Then we were actually treated to a paced surface which soon turned on-right and into the hinterland of Chaminade. This would never be referred to as the ‘resort’ section of the property. There were a number of large metal PODs here, we can only speculate as to what is contained within. Trail then turned on-right and became a fire access road. Soon we exited Chaminade property and viewed the BN mark.

Beer Check was convened on the edge of Santa Cruz Gardens County Park. Upon completion of our business here, the Eagles headed off distancing themselves ever further from the start while the Turkey’s backtracked a short distance before skirting around the edge of Chaminade property before plunging into the depths of the now darkening wood. This began a serious on-down to the banks of Arana Creek, barely a trickle at this time of the year and this far upstream from Arana Gulch Greenbelt. Near the remains of an old house, Liquor Check was staged. It was a risky on-down to where the bottle of unknown(still is!) liquid was discovered. After dealing with this, an almost never-ending on-up was undertaken which eventually popped the pod out neat the aforementioned POD storage containers. It was there, as soon as Jersey lunchbox resurfaced after doing BOTH Eagle trails, that Pink Cherry Licker began Religion.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Jersey Lunchbox for being DFL; Snake Me Anywhere for bringing a light knowing it would get dark before the end of trail…and leaving it in her car; Clearly Not A Hooker for chivalry on trail, she gave her light to another hound; Broke Bench Mountain for lighting trail for everyone but really only blinding oncoming hounds; Pink Cherry Licker and (father) TIMMY!! for falling multiple times along trail; TIMMY!! and Hooker celebrated analversaries. It was time for on-on-on and…oh. The hare trio. Our hare trio of Cum, U Will Not!, Steamy Baanorrhea and Hugh Heifer were thanked for a beautiful starting point but no mention of trail itself was heard. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at Jeffrey’s but was attended only by TIMMY!!, Broke Bench Mountain and Puff.

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 become 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. I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-64.

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, September the fourth in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Wary,

Is what we are when beginning from Henfling’s Tavern in Ben Lomond. We are considered outsiders in this place. We wear shoes, we still have a mouthful of teeth. We are well-versed in the King’s English. We not only know the day of the week but the YEAR as well.

Let’s copulate this with having only one hare and, worse yet, this harriette happens to live just across the street. This would appear to be a fantastic formula for failure. And there will be no rejoicing.

The fact this was the (occasionally) annual Beat Yur Meat and benefit for Second Harvest Food Bank was the only factoid that induced (seduced?) many of us into attending. We were also treated to a rare visitation by Rubik Pube’s canine companion Mack, AKA Ridiculously- Shaped Dog. Hugh Heifer agreed to accompany him along trail. RSD doesn’t Hash anymore, his aged joints are not happy with such strenuous antics. We also witnessed the return of Moose Turd Pie. As a Lompico (lom-tweak-o) land baron, he does not come down from his private mountaintop estate very often. The over-the-hill contingency (location-wise not age-wise) consisted of Missile Anus, Dual Tools, Worm, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, Gary the Shit Stain and No Film. Even old timers Rainbow Butthole and Wines Like A Bitch emerged from the business persona and rejoined the pack. Vying for the No Film Award would be Courtesy Flush and (current) partner Virgin Clarissa (with canine companion Rocket). Nice they could join us nonetheless. The players are in position, let’s proceed.

Lone hare Rubik’s Pube delivered what may be the shortest Instructions of Trail in recent memory. The majority of the pack did not even hear them. I started to say MISSED Instructions of Trail but then decided they did not MISS anything. Hare away.

For the next fifteen minutes there was a plethora of chatting and some rapid imbibing by those that were accustomed to Surf City on-out time being quite fluid and were surprised upon learning today’s hare actually did conform to the advertised time of 6:33. Once those fifteen had evaporated, GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested those in attendance to assume the proper position for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in responses from: Moose Turd Pie, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea, Missile Anus, Worm, Occasional Rapist, Cum,U Will Not!, Hugh Heifer, TIMMY!!, Dual Tools(Up My Ass), Clearly Not A Hooker, Pink Cherry Licker, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, Gary the Shit Stain, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, No Film, Courtesy Flush, Virgin Clarissa and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was Swamp Rat(co-haring), Ridiculously-Shaped Dog, Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Rocket. Pack out.

The pack proceeded on-right from Henfling’s beside Highway 9 until encountering a hare arrow turning the troops on-right onto Fillmore Avenue and one block later on-left onto Central Avenue. One block later another hare arrow led the litter on-right onto Sunnyside Avenue. Along here, the runners caught up with some smarties that, being familiar with the geography, had managed to shortcut a substantial section of trail. Short-cutting bastards! When Sunnyside finds it’s terminus, it was on-left onto Love Creek Road and the beginning of a slight on-up. Worse yet, there was precious little room to spare as vehicles hurled past at extreme rates of speed. Thanks, hare!!

Soon but not soon enough we intersected with Brookside Avenue and an on-right was indicated there. Well, at least we’re finally heading in the direction of home. This was a gentle on-down culminating with a gentle bend on-right onto Glen Arbor Road which very soon brought us back into town and within a block of Henfling’s. Here we were pointed on-left and soon to make an on-right onto Hillside Avenue(isn’t EVERY road here on the side of a damn hill?!?) and one block later on-right onto Old County Road. It’s a road only by virtue of the fact vehicles occasionally traverse it’s pothole-filled surface. Eventually we crossed a (very) expensive bridge giving access to Brook Road. Brook Road is less than three tenths of a mile long, not much longer than the million dollar bridge leading to it. At the intersection of Old County Road and Brook Road, we encountered our hare and her little dog at Beer Check. NOW there was some rejoicing.

The remainder of trail was uneventful (read: dreary!) except a one hundred yard section of Highway 9 which possessed precious little room for humans now within the confines of a vehicle. Everyone found it within themselves to run THIS section of trail. It culminated with a spectacular view of the San Lorenzo River and our destination, the castle, residing on the opposite bank. Upon arrival, Steamy Baanorrhea and Moose Turd Pie were observed high above the yard plying their trade as chefs and toiling over grilles broasting our meat. Food flew in all directions as hounds strapped on the feed bag. I must mention one of the offerings, TIMMY’s eggplant-based dip, was of the highest quality.

After becoming sufficiently sated, Pink Cherry Licker cranked up her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs distributed this night: Gary for blood on trail; TIM and Goggler for not doing trail; Moose Turd Pie as a short-cutter; the No Film Award went to…No Film!; dBASED for wearing an ancient W2B shirt; the over-the hill contingency were recognized; backsliders were punished; Virgin Clarissa was welcomed; the grille masters were thanked; Rubik’s Pube celebrated her 10th haring. On-on-on started now and… Oops, the hare. Rubik was told we appreciated the loaning of her castle to us again and she could continue doing so. However, being the hare again was out of the question. On-on-on continued right where we were. This Hash is over.

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 become 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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-63.

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-eighth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Paul’s Place,

Or so it was when your Scribe first darkened the door thereof decades ago. Then a morph into Ye Olde Watering Hole. Now Mission West. One thing, though, has remained constant: a sketchy clientele. This tradition continued with the gathering of the group as per the request of our hare-pair, that being TIMMY!! and Flours For Anal Bum. These two are so deserving of this place, birds of a feather one may say. Allow me to illustrate my premise.

The herd soon outgrew the interior of this venerable establishment and motored to the outdoor drinkin’ area. A number of tables were commandeered. However, one harriette required a table to herself. That would be Hareless who opted to bring a book to read. Scribe will leave it to you to attempt to comprehend the implications and possible consequences of her action. Bizarre does not even begin to explain such an activity. Or her, for that matter. As for we normal hashers, chatting and swilling was more the order of the day. We were graced with a visitation from a traveler, Slurpee Seconds from Las Vegas and her traveling companion, Virgin Ryan, from Marina. Hopefully he can copulate with Oral D and Jersey Lunchbox and visit with us again. Virgin Zoe showed just in time for a quick Chalk Talk and then it was off to Circleup for Introductions. Just Katie made an appearance and was actually on time for a change. While Scribe should likely avoid mentioning this well-known troublemaker but Penis Is Good For Me parked his traveling home on Delaware Avenue for the first time in months and regaled(repulsed?) the pack with (supposed) jokes collected from his travels around the world. (Also known as Flight to Avoid Prosecution) This sets the players in place for this week’s tragedy in one act.

The hares, in a stoke of luck, imparted Instructions of Trail almost exactly at our advertised 6:33 time. This would later prove beneficial due to two lost sheep which threw the entire hash behind schedule. More on those two jokers later. TIMMY!!, as senior hare (and is he EVER a senior) delivered Instructions which were exactly as disjointed and uninformative as one would expect from someone of TIMMY’s years and deteriorated state of mind. Flours stood there speechless. Hares away.

Now it was time for dBASED to conduct not one but two Chalk Talk classes. Virgin Ryan attended the first accompanied by Slurpee Seconds. Just as this class was dismissed Virgin Zoe appeared and the training session was repeated. Meanwhile we other hounds settled bar tabs and consulted GPS on our phones wondering what dire-erection this trail may take. Many of us soon realized that as TIMMY’s thought processes are no longer linear, at least in the conventional sense, we soon abandoned this exercise and resigned ourselves to our fate. Now dBASED called for Circleup for Introductions. The result of this was voices from: Steamy Baanorrhea, Hareless(minus the book), Occasional Rapist, Cum,U Will Not!, Slurpee Seconds, Virgin Ryan, Snake Me Anywhere, Clearly Not A Hooker, Rubik’s Pube, Pink Cherry Licker, Circle Gherkin’, Just Katie, Virgin Zoe, Jersey Lunchbox, Oral D and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick and Swamp Rat. Pack out.

A check on the sidewalk behind the bar was soon solved and it was on-right to Swift Street. Another check there was soon eliminated and it was on-left past Humble Sea Brewing and yet another check was encountered at the pedestrian walk beside the railroad tracks. The FRBs eliminated this and we were directed on-right. Let’s fast forward to the west side Antonelli Pond. Mercifully, the missing and/or rotten planks forming the train trestle over the pond have been replaced so we did not risk life and limb to make this crossing. Once back on terra firma, it was on-left beside the pond to Delaware Avenue and a check solved there pointed the pod on-right.

It was obvious Long Marine Lab and it’s adjacent environs were on our map. That was fine with us but it was the fact the hares felt it necessary to tour the entire friggin’ place was unacceptable. We were not allowed the first on-left but rather we covered every square kilometer of the grounds.

We circled around the entire complex before entering De Anza Point Mobile Home Park through a coded gate that we have never found to be locked. We meandered through the park until there WAS no more park and exited through a heavy always-locked gate and onto the hillside above Natural Bridges State Park. Which, in all honesty, should be renamed Natural Bridge State Park as only one of the original three still form a bridge. On-down onto the beach we dropped and then plodded through the only medium we dislike more than the accursed railroad tracks: SAND!! Once across the beach it was on-up to the parking lot and then back on-down into the Monarch butterfly reserve. Once there we performed an on-up of the opposite shore and then(finally) encountered the Turkey/Eagle split. The eagles went on-right and exited the Park and then made an on-left onto Swanton Boulevard to Delaware and on-left there. The Turkeys continued through a field and then eventually made an on-right and came to Delaware. After rejoining both contingencies on Delaware, the troops took the trail beside what was originally a Texas Instruments building, now commandeered by UCSC, and soon found the hare-pair residing beside Antonelli Pond slurping away on Beer Check beer.

Things seemed to be progressing nicely, the walkers came on-in, almost en masse, followed by the Eagles. While preparing to on-in for Religion, it was noted Cum,U Will not! and Occasional Rapist were not in attendance. A phone call from them to Steamy revealed the fact they were lost. Or was it stoned? Probably both really. They said they didn’t even know where they’d BEEN, let alone where they WERE at the moment but were pretty sure they were on trail. More time passed and they called again saying they’d found the Turkey/Eagle split. It was now full-on dark so Steamy dispatched himself to retrieve the wayward Turkeys. Upon their arrival, they were handed drinks and told to keep walking.

The pack adjourned from Beer Check and reassembled themselves behind Upper Crust Pizza just as last week. Once in some semblance of order, Pink Cherry Licker unveiled her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of this action: The RA herself was awarded a down-down for claiming to see the hares pre-laying trail, she was then informed it was 6:40 and they were on trail; Penis Is Good For Me for refusing to turn and view Hooker’s breasts; Jersey and Gherkin’ for a hare snare; dBASED for making the lame nomination that Hooker’s dog, Bukkake, responds to a woman’s breasts; Penis as a visitor; Virgin Zoe was welcomed(Virgin Ryan had fled in terror); Steamy for also stopping on trail when dBASED said, Junk Puncher, stop!; Penis for telling a joke both loud and lousy; Flours for thanking TIMMY!! for ‘teaching her things'(Who knew the olde man still had it in him?); Cum,U Will Not! and Occasional for becoming lost and Steamy for rescuing them and Gherkin’ for lowering himself upon bended knee in front of Zoe…and only tying her shoe(though I noted his eyes were turned upwards the entire time). And that did it… No. The hares. We appreciated the view from the coastal bluffs but next time lay a shorter trail or tell the pack to bring flashlights. This Hash is over. On-on-on bounced back and forth between the Taco Truck behind Mission West and Upper Crust Pizza.

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 become 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 remains a subject open to debate.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-62.

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 twentieth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Steamy Dung,

Pretty much what we were subjected to on the evening of 10 August. Steamy Baanorrhea and Dung-Fu Grip promised us views unparalleled in Surf City history. Every time some hare makes such audacious claims I immediately discount the possibility that they will deliver on this promise. Well, I must admit there were some unprecedented sights on this trail. I’ve never seen so much cow shit in my life!! Now, the rest of the story.

The hare-pair requested the pack’s presence at Mission Gardens on Grandview Street. Immediately, the misnomers began. Traverse this street and you will easily see there’s NOTHING to see! There is no grand view, only ugly eighties apartment buildings(in need of serious maintenance). As for the Mission Garden moniker, we’re miles from the Mission and the ‘Garden’ is a expanse of (now brown) grass with no accoutrements normally associated with a park. So, trail has not even been initiated and already the lies proliferate. When Scribe arrived, the hares were already lollygagging on the grass, drinking heavily and chuckling over their trail. This is never taken as a good sign and in this case proved evil omen.

The pack assembled slowly and took up residence on the curb in the parking lot. Our GMs are world-traveling again, reputedly visiting bars in the Seattle area. In what was possibly the highlight of this trail, last week’s hideous hares, that being Pink Cherry Licker and her criminal accomplice Hareless(no longer) opted not to show snout this week so we were not forced to recollect the terrors of that trail. However, the downside here is that pack size was rather small. This can become problematic when a check is encountered but in the final analysis this trail proved, much like our hares, pretty damn simple.

After allotting extra time for straggling hounds, the hares finally admitted only this minuscule number of hashers really wanted to hash this trail so Instructions of Trail were delivered. A Turkey/Eagle split was promised as was a Liquor Check. The latter was appreciated far more than the former. Hares away.

The next fifteen were pleasant. Well, when compared to what we anticipated being dumped on us after their expiration anyway. Upon the allotment’s passage, acting-GM dBASED called for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in responses from: TIMMY!!, Cum,U Will Not!, Flours For Anal Bum, Occasional Rapist, Jersey Lunchbox, Circle Gherkin’, Clearly Not A Hooker, Snake Me Anywhere and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our small canine contingency consisted of Spot’d Dick, Junk Puncher and Bukkake. Pack out.

The Turkey/Eagle split was conveniently located at the street, Eagles on-left while Turkeys were herded on-right. The Eagles were headed on-up into Arroyo Seco Canyon. Enjoy! We Turkeys traipsed along Grandview to an on-right onto Beachview Avenue. This was yet another incorrect labeling which is apparently inherent in this area. One cannot come close to seeing a beach from here. Beachview curves on-left and brought us to Western Drive where, and we could smell this one a mile away, on-right to undertake a steep on-up. And so we did. No rejoicing either. Once mercifully completed, we were rewarded with Liquor Check.

After concluding business here, we continued motivating along Western until Meder Street where we were joined by the Eagles from on-right and were pointed on-left. It then became obvious Moore Creek Preserve was our destination. We have not traversed these trails in quite a while. We were soon to be reminded why we avoid this area.

Let’s fast forward along the dreary length of Meder and enter Moore Creek. We went on-right onto East Meadow Trail and then on-left onto Moore Creek Trail. This led the litter on-down to Moore Creek and then on-up into a cow pasture that had seen recent bovine occupation, if you get my meaning. Yes, it was meadow muffin mania through this section of trail. Eventually it was on-left onto Prairie View Trail. It was more of being IN a prairie than merely viewing one though. This would eventually dump us onto the side of California Highway 1 where we were coerced into crossing. Just across it was on-left onto Mission Street and not long after that the BN mark was observed and on-up a small hill we discovered the hares quietly sitting on the cooler awaiting our arrival. We then began an extended break waiting for the walkers. Finally a phone call highlighted our dilemma.

Remember our stint with Prairie View Trail? It seems that when the walkers arrived the sun was vanishing and the view was spectacular. Stellar enough they decided to stop and watch. They fell asleep. No, just kiddin’. They DID, however, spend an inordinate amount of time watching the sunset before resuming trail. When they arrived at Beer Check, they were met on the street by Dung-Fu Grip, handed a beer and told to continue motivating as it was getting late. We motivated back to Point A but, considering the darkness and the proximity to nearby apartments, Religion was moved to the parking lot behind Upper Crust Pizza which was to be the site of on-on-on anyway.

Once completely reassembled, dBASED assumed the role of Religious Adviser and here’s is a sampling of the injustices he unleashed on the pack this night: the walkers taking pictures on trail and delaying the Hash; backsliders were punished; dBASED for running right past Liquor Check; Gherkin’ and Jersey for Chivalry on Trail, they waited for dBASED to put Junk Puncher’s harness on him. This Hash is…oops, NOT over. The hare-pair. They were told we appreciated the views, just find a more acceptable way to get us there next time. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was right next door at Upper Crust Pizza and almost everyone 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. Do not allow the profound to become 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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end i desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-61.

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 fourteenth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Let’s move on,

To another starting point. It appears our hare-pair accepted the website for Felton Music Hall as gospel truth and did not check to insure it’s accuracy. It was NOT open at 6PM as it reputedly would be so upon their arrival, the hares moved the start to Monty’s Log Cabin. So, trail ‘began’ with a half mile addition from a semi-respectable venue to a well known den of denizens. Not an especially auspicious beginning, shall we say. Once there, an extended period of waiting was initiated in an effort to connect with as many lost hounds as possible. While such action meant more to the hares than the pack, it provided early arrivers with an excellent excuse to secure a second libation. This provided us with a completely different perspective pertaining to the impending trail. When the hares decided they’d snared as poor half-minds as they could, Pink Cherry Licker delivered Instructions of Trail claiming Turkey was approximately three miles and Eagle an incredible six! In this mountainous terrain and heat?!? Good luck, Eagles! Hares out.

Fifteen minutes of our lives were expended chatting, drinkin’, paying bar tabs and drinkin’. GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain, finally have found us, then called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from: dBASED, Baker’s Dozen’t, Rubik’s Pube, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Oral D, Clearly Not A Hooker, Jersey Lunchbox, Driponya, Circle Gherkin’, Just Katie and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week was a slim canine contingency as one section of trail was an area dogs were prohibited from. This did not deter Cumz and Broke Bench though, Scratch and Sniff accompanied them. Pack out.

Trail proceeded back towards town along dangerous California Highway 9 but mercifully soon made an on-left onto Laurel Drive followed by the next available on-right, Gushee Street. Just past Hihn Street we were directed on-left into a small park area. We have held Religion here once. The walkway brings you back to Gushee very quickly and we continued until reaching Felton Empire Road. There it was directly across to Cooper Street to an on-left onto Farmer Street followed by an on-left onto Ashley Street. This would take us past the Felton Cemetery where Liquor Check awaited unsuspecting hounds.

We continued along Ashley and then made an on-right onto Blair Street. When Blair ends, an on-left is dictated onto Love Street which one block later ends at Felton Empire. Thanks to the moving of our starting point, we’ve already passed the one mile mark. Not a very promising beginning for a trail reputedly of only three and six miles for the Turkeys and Eagles respectively.

At Felton Empire and on-right initiated the incredibly dangerous undertaking of traversing on-up all the way to the entrance to the Fall Creek Unit of Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. We have been here a number of times before so we knew what to expect: a long and winding trail bordered by beautiful Fall Creek and redwoods and poison oak sufficient to insure you did not stray far from said trail. Through the parking lot we went and plunged on-down Fall Creek Trail. At the two mile mark of trail, Fall Creek Trail forks. Here was the first major dilemma of trail. Apparently, the hare-pair had (foolishly) placed the Turkey/Eagle split in the middle of trail to insure no one would miss it. Well, no one DID. Sadly though, that also includes any mortals who just happened to be on this trail on a beautiful, warm Summer evening…and there were plenty of them. Enough in fact to partially obliterate the marks. The only remaining remnants were what appeared to be a ‘T’ and an arrow pointing on-right. Circle Gherkin’ remained at the check to direct traffic while FRBs had dispersed in both directions.Those that went on-right soon returned claiming to have found no marker. Those that went on-left never returned. It was soon decided on-left was Eagle and on-right Turkey. The Eagles proceeded along Fall Creek Trail and then on-right on Ridge Trail. The Turkeys went on-right and then on-left onto High School Trail. The Eagles would rejoin them along this trail and the entire mob proceeded to an outdoor amphitheater at San Lorenzo Valley High School where the hares were encountered lounging. The most fervent activity here was not the usual slurping of libation but the fending off of mosquitoes. While a scenic location for Beer Check it proved more advantageous for the local vermin than the pack. The poor FRBs struggled along the six mile trail, including a formidable hill, and were quite a distance behind the Turkeys.

Once the hapless Eagles had recovered sufficiently to amble again, the on-in to Religion was initiated. This was another mile and a half added to trail length, thank you. This was to the current abode of Hareless. Once there, Dung-Fu Grip fired up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: Timmy!! for finding the only pile of dog poop for miles around, Dung-Fu for shedding blood on trail, Baker’s Dozen’t for relaying a sizeable section of trail rubbed out by passing mortals and backsliders were justifiably punished. This Hash…oh. The accursed hare-pair. Everyone appreciated the scenic jaunt through a redwood forest, just not so damn much of it next time please. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at Taqueria Vallarta.

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 become 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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-60.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe