Clouds descend,

Over Santa Cruz as they did over the pack on the evening of October the sixth. The sky was blue and the clouds few as we approached New Bohemia Brewing on 41st Avenue. However, just prior to the meeting spot, the clouds obscured the sun and the cold wind came calling. We mistakenly construed this as typical of a local microclimate when in actuality is was most likely a sign from the gods of the Hash that treacherous tricks awaited the pack this night. Cruel tricks are part and parcel of a Cold Smegma Kamikaze trail though so we should have expected such. As for Just Danielle, her first hash was Sunday Wharf to Barf and she came to believe all hashes are like that one. She returns week after week in a foolish effort to regain that magic.

As an aside to this, a few tables away from the pack, Fleet Feet Sports was hosting a run. Considering the shoe display they brought it appeared to be as much of a sales event as an effort to get some people out to exercise. After the participants had left, dBASED walked over to introduce himself and to inquire as to the nature of the event. When he was told what was going on, he said he was here with his running club too. When they asked why the members were drinking, he responded the club drank before, during and after the run. They said that sounded more like a drinking club than a running club. dBASED said, Thank you! They then turned their backs on him and he returned to the fold. That was the extent of our interaction with Fleet Feet Sports.

Fashionably late, the hare-pair eventually delivered Instructions of Trail. Some vague references to a Liquor Check and Beer Check were made but one item of interest was repeated more than once: Trail is short. Even the Eagle trail was said to be only little longer than the Turkey. While ‘short’ would not be characteristic of a Cold Smegma Kamikaze trail, lying WOULD be the norm. Hares-out.

The following fifteen was spent swilling the last of our beers and settling our burgeoning bills. Upon completion of this unpleasant task, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested a Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: dBASED, TIMMY!!, Accuprick, Steamy Baanorrhea, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cum You Will Not, 2 Dicks Down, L’eggs, My Little Bony, Lock Nut Monster and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. For the canine crew we had Junk Puncher, Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Merlissa. Pack-out.

Marker turned the troops on-left onto 41st Avenue followed by an on-right onto Portola. We passed Frenchy’s, birthplace of Piss ‘n Booths, and came to the promised Turkey/Eagle split at the intersection with 38th Avenue. It’s cold and windy, not to mention dark; let’s Turkey trot this night. Trail took the Turkeys on-right onto 38th. A short distance along the DGK mark pointed the pod across 38th. Here we erred. Believing the marker across the road pointed on-left onto Avis Lane, we trotted behind the strip mall housing such notable establishments as the Castaways and came back to Portola. We could see a check across the street at 36th Avenue so we crossed over. Marker was found on 36th heading towards the Bay but that culminated in a head-on collision with the approaching Eagles! Uh…

After some serious sniffing, it was determined we should have continued on 38th rather than on-left behind the strip mall. 38th was then utilized to Brommer Street, mercifully passing the accursed railroad tracks, and on-right there to 41st Avenue. We are now within sight of Point A, and it wasn’t even an especially scenic circle jerk either. Here a check was soon solved and led the litter across 41st and to an on-left. This brought the bunch to an on-right through a dark parking lot which proved to be merely a slight short-cut to Capitola Road. Once there it was on-right towards Capitola. An on-right was dictated at 47th Avenue followed by an on-left onto Garnet Street. Deep in the Jewel Box area of Capitola we now are. At 49th Avenue, it was on-left and all the way back to Capitola Road and on-right. Just another slightly less than scenic, and even more unnecessary, circle jerk. When we reached Wharf Road, things took a turn for the worse. We were pointed on-left past the Shadowbrook Restaurant.

We can lessen the pain endured here by fast forwarding to Rispin Mansion. On the path past the (still) uncompleted restoration, Liquor Check was encountered.

After this it was over Soquel Creek and on-right through Peery Park and exit onto Riverview Drive and then on-right onto Riverview Avenue. (They dearly love their riverviews around here) Part way along this street, the Soquel Creek Park Pathway begins with an on-right. This will eventually bring you to Stockton Avenue where an on-right will take you over Soquel Creek which is more lagoon than stream. Next was to begin the steep on-up of Wharf Road(again). Not wishing to cross trail as they soon would, the hare-pair utilized the rickety stairs that on-up to the train tracks and then crept along the dirt path balanced precariously on the side of the hill between million dollar homes and the railroad tracks. Quite a juxtaposition.

Just as we emerged from the darkened path and approached Prospect Avenue, our highly sought-after BN mark was observed. In the viewing area overlooking Capitola and Monterey Bay, we discovered the hare-pair partying.

Most hounds clocked trail length around the four mile mark, some slightly less and a few just over. Four miles was determined NOT to be a short trail as promised by the hares. Considering the numerous crimes committed on this trail, that may not have been the most egregious though. Mercifully, it was but a short hike to the site for Religion in Jade Street Park. We were not alone there though, besides the occasional passing black-and-white, some people were playing soccer in a nearby field.

Once the accoutrements had been assembled, RA Accuprick fired up his torture machine and here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: backsliders were first and foremost and consumed most of the time, no major crimes of trail were recounted which allowed extra time for vitriol to be tossed at the hare-pair. After seeing the hares again, a disgusted Accuprick dismissed the pack.

On-in was a traipse along Nova Dive to 41st Avenue. We missed last call at Betty’s Burgers so the remnants of the pack crossed 41st Avenue and poured into Taqueria Vallarta. That puts the finishing touches on Trail Twelve-13 and on this Trash as well.

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.

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-13.

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 twelfth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Life’s a beach!

That old play on words failed us on the last Thursday in September 2022. This shift from fun to fucked is laid directly on the pointed little heads belonging to the hare-pair of dBASED and Clearly Not A Hooker. Admittedly, it’s an accepted truism that dBASED will bring the pack to no good and must simply be accepted as the cross Surf City must carry. However, due to our short memories and innate kindness, we continue allowing him to hare. As for his partner-in-slime, Clearly Not a Hooker, she’s a well-known traveler across Northern California to attend other hashes. It is now apparent that she cataloged the vilest tricks she learned at these events and mixed them together to use against us on this trail. That sets the table for Hash Twelve-12. It also is a recipe for disaster.

We began the assembly process on the railroad tracks at the intersection of Coronado Street and Park Avenue in Capitola where we’ve been many times before. And we still don’t like it. On one side it’s open to stiff winds coming off Monterey Bay and on the other in plain sight of all vehicles passing by. Cold breezes and cold stares, two items that do not sit well with us. This week’s theme was Dress like a Hooker as it was (Clearly Not A) Hooker’s celebration of her hatching day. (She must be over 30 as she declined to say how many trips around the sun she has completed) Hash Flash will chronicle how Surf City hashers define the word ‘hooker’. In keeping with the town motto ‘Keep Santa Cruz Weird’, you will see some rather intriguing attire.

Not disgustingly late, the hare-pair delivered Instructions of Trail. It’s always disconcerting when these details differ from those on their Trail Announcement on our website. Changes are unsettling and leads one to believe their plans for trail are disjointed. Hares-out.

The next fifteen minutes of our lives were spent conversing, drinkin’ and keeping Junk Puncher and Odin from erupting into full-on fighting mode. Junk Puncher seemed to take exception to new-on-the-scene Odin’s garnering so much attention. Eventually zero hour arrived and co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following: Occasional Rapist, Steamy Baanorrhea, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, STD(the harrier with dozens of names), Just John, Jersey Lunchbox, Just Danielle, My Little Bony and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency has swollen by one and was represented by: Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick, Swamp Rat, Scratch and Sniff and Odin. Pack away.

Trail proceeded down the treacherous hill to the parking lot for New Brighton State Beach and on-right and on-down onto the beach. I do not need to remind anyone how much we dislike motivating along the sand. Even if this was your first time, maybe Just Danielle or Just John, I’m certain they have now developed the same dislike for sand as have any of the more experienced hounds. With that in mind, let us fast forward to the area just past Potbelly Beach where the promised Turkey/Eagle split was viewed. The Turkeys will on-up to a large open field while the Eagles will continue along the sand pit. It’s too beautiful to resist, let’s continue getting sand in our shoes with the Eagles.

This trek continued for almost a mile until an arrow pointed the pod on-left and on-up the trail to Beachgate Way. After recuperating from the climb, it was forward on Beachgate Way, on-left onto Seacliff Drive, on-right onto Coates Drive, on-left onto Hill Crest Drive and finally an on-right onto Mar Vista Drive. This would bring the tired troops to the accursed railroad tracks and a check. Steamy continued along Mar Vista bur soon returned from false markings. Jersey Lunchbox inspected Poplar Street to no avail. Eventually, more by the process of elimination than good detective work, trail was stumbled across on Cedar Street. This led the litter to an on-right onto Oakdale Drive followed by an on-right onto Poplar Street. This has pointed the pride back towards the check, I smell skullduggery in our immediate future.

Ah, yes. I see our destination just ahead on-left. Not far along Poplar Street, marker turned the merry members of this madness on-left and on-down a steep hill and onto the accursed railroad tracks. In retrospect, it was basically the only way home. The tracks were taken until a check at the same field that was used by the Turkeys. The correct route, contrary to the direction FRB’s Jersey Lunchbox and Just John took, was on-right and through a small patch of woods and then they would have observed the LC sign. Contained there was some chocolate-tasting substance.

After concluding our business here, it was back on trail through a (now) darkened field and eventually to New Brighton Road and upon viewing the BN mark, on-left and into Beer Check. While this may sound all well and good, sadly this did not spell the end of trail as is usually our custom of late. Tragically, this signaled the beginning of what was arguably the most e-vile section of trail. Rather than taking the backdoor into New Brighton State Beach campground where we already were, it became an almost half a mile traipsing of the train tracks to Oak Trail which led on-up into the campground. Still not done jerking the gaggle around, the hares had the unmitigated audacity to place a check on the on-up into the campground. Unheard of in Surf City history, a check on an on-in! And even then they were not finished screwing the school. They utilized the most inefficient route possible to get the gang to space 42, the site for Religion.

Once there, everyone grabbed a beer and a bite and settled in for another edition of Accuprick’s Fun House of Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: those dressed as hookers were honored/mocked(you make the call), auto-hashers were punished, short-cutters were appropriately punished, those donned in fishnet stockings, those (barely) covering their nether region with a thong. Yes, the hares were taken to task too. It was unanimous the scenery was spectacular, too bad the trail to get us there was subpar. With that encounter, the RA dismissed the pack and the face-feed began. I hereby dismiss you from the Hash Trash as well.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. One should never allow the facts to get 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.

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-12.

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 fourth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Sante Adairius Portal,

Became a portal to Hades rather than one to beer on the evening of September twenty-second. Lead hare My Sister’s Dildo used a rather large one on us this night aided by Just Kamryn on her Virgin haring. We can only hope Kamryn does not believe this is how trails should always be laid and that Womb View A View appropriately punished (current) wife My Sister’s Dildo when he got her behind closed doors.

So, there we were,(there we were) lulled into laxity sitting in early evening sun on the first day of Fall. Not a care in the world, giving no thought whatsoever to what impending evilness two cute harriettes had in store for us. Half-minds one and all, we will never learn.

My Little Bony and Cum You Will Not had apparently been partaking of an intoxicant other than our usual alcohol. Bony’s smile resembled that of Pennywise the clown and Cum You Will Not continually asked people if they had eaten yet. Just John and Just Danielle were discussing their last trail where they misinterpreted the directions and attempted to begin trail from the site of Religion, this did not work well for them. When hounds are acting this illogically, it does not bode well for trail. We also had the Jolly Giant, visitor Nature Runner, towering over the proceedings and 24 Hour Manchanic prancing from group to group inquiring about their sexual proclivities. I opted not to inquire as to whether she was writing a book or merely looking for new ideas.

Eventually the hare-pair made a trail announcement while standing in the doorway to the bar. The way they were talking led me to believe they’d made an extended visit to said bar too. They made the standard hare lies: Trail is short, flat and fast. It will possess a Liquor Check as well as a high quality Beer Check. While mostly ignored and universally believed to be untruthful, they provided a much needed chuckle to the assembled throng. Hares-out.

The fifteen minute lead time provided the hares, allowing them to lay trail from the comfort of their car I believe, had the upside of allowing hounds to sample the wares here at Sante Adairius and dull their senses knowing they were soon to be offended by trail. When launch time arrived, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain assembled the clan for introductions and heard responses from: Jersey Lunchbox, Cum You Will Not, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Accuprick, dBASED, Occasional Rapist, 24 Hour Manchanic, Pink Cherry Licker, Nature Runner, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Womb With A View, My Little Bony, Just John, Just Danielle, Just Sam, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, Just Ben and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was out in full force; Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Junk Puncher. Pack-away.

We left the parking lot and went towards Safeway and came to Poplar Avenue and executed an on-right but only for one block. When we reached Melrose Avenue we were turned on-right again and then on-left onto Morrissey Boulevard. This street was used until Fairmount Avenue where the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. The Turkeys will be crossing over Highway 1 while the Eagles go on-left on Fairmount. It’s the first day of Fall, Winter approacheth. Let’s fly with the Eagles before the darkness of Winter arrives.

Fairmount was an uneventful excursion ended only by North Branciforte Avenue. Here an on-right was indicated taking the Eagles across Highway 1 and continuing until it makes an on-right and becomes DeLaveaga Park Drive. This will take an curve on-right and morph into Prospect Heights, took us past the well populated Pacheco Avenue dog park and then an on-left onto Park Way. This side of Park Way is short, dark and desolate and has been the site of Beer Check before. No such blessing this time though, it was an on-right onto Old Vineyard Trail East. This dark stretch of unrefined trail was taken through mountain lion country until making an on-right onto a locals-only shortcut to Paseo Del Mar, on-left onto Burton Drive and it was there we rolled into Liquor Check.

From Liquor Check it was on-down (back to) Prospect Heights. It was a short block to an on-left onto Fairland Way. When Fairland ended it was on-right onto Oak Way which brought the brood to La Fonda. Here it was on-left and back over Highway 1. This is when things got kinky. Not long ago we were pointed on-right through these woods. However, these particular hares saw no reason to take a trail blazed by the local high school kids but rather pointed the pod into perilous turf where no path existed. (And still doesn’t!) Eventually, stumbling and stuttering, and negotiating a ravine of great depth and a hill of great height, we emerged onto school grounds to be gawked at by parents leaving a meeting. At least they did not summon police. Hurrying through school property, we soon found ourselves on Park Way and mercifully viewed the BN mark. It was on-right on Park Way to an illegal drinking party staged, even stupider, under a streetlight.

After completing our business here, a rather long on-in(one mile) was undertaken. This was comprised of Roxas Street to Soquel Avenue, transition to Water Street and back past Sante Adairius(where many of wish we had remained) and then to the parking lot behind Safeway. Once all were safely reassembled, Accuprick cranked up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: backsliders were punished; visitors were welcomed; Bony was mocked for claiming to be a Virgin again; those that used their finger to point with on trail; Broke Bench Mountain for explaining squirrel splooting; Pink Cherry Licker for completing trail against her wishes and those that participated in the beach cleanup this past Saturday. Those were the main low lights but there was a high light as well: the naming of Just Sam. To cut to the chase, there was a time when Sam was dating two people(at LEAST two) and soon discovered one of them lived two doors down from the other. Hence the name of our newest kennel mate: Two Dicks Down. Oh, I almost forgot, the accursed hare-pair. Everyone appreciated a Beer Check AND a Liquor Check but that was because the more intoxicated they were, the less pain they felt from shitty trail. This trail was offensive to every major religion in the world.

The encounter with the hares prompted Accuprick to declare an end to this Hash and I 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. 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.

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-11.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Wild times,

Or more precisely feral hares that led us into the wilds in and around Wilder Ranch. Hares Cum You Will Not, who barely escaped being arrested last time we were here, and Baker’s Dozen’t, still smarting from the rebuke of his trail last week, decided taking the troops to a place where they could not easily forsake trail and go to a bar would coerce hounds into hunting them. Well, in that endeavor they were successful. We DID pursue them but our intent was less than friendly after the first mile or two of this terrible trail.

We started this evening standing beside Highway 1, frequently known as Pacific Coast Raceway, attempting to look inconspicuous as the area is frequented by those black and white cars that disapprove of many of our actions. So, the challenges that laid in wait for us on this trail began even before Instructions of Trail were issued. Eventually, Baker’s Dozen’t called for quiet as he detailed what would assail us along this trail. He stood alone as Cum You Will Not saw the handwriting on the wall and wished to begin distancing herself from this trail.

There was a vague reference that Eagles would eventually hash the Turkey trail. While this promise was kept, it certainly came to fruition in a manner most rude. Hares-away.

The next fifteen minutes of our so-called lives was passed socializing and fortifying our mettle to confront this trail. Nothing was SAID about trail although all present felt it weighing down upon our shoulders. Now we know how oxen felt wearing those heavy wooden yokes. As zero hour approached, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: TIMMY!!, Just Foot Pussy, Steamy Baanorrhea, Jersey Lunchbox, Rubik’s Pube, Just John, dBASED, International House of Pussy, Fucked-Over Fest, Chippin’ Ballz, Boneless Shelter and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our four-legged contingency was (illegally) represented only by Scratch and Sniff this week. Pack out.

Trail led the litter back towards Santa Cruz. Many of us wish we had continued along Highway 1 until viewing the sign saying, Welcome to Santa Cruz! But we didn’t being half-minds one and all. Upon reaching the bike undercrossing of Highway 1, things took a turn for the worse.

After successfully, more or less, negotiating the dangerous on-down, the promised Turkey/ Eagle split was encountered. It’s a stellar day, let’s fly with the Eagles. Eagles were turned on-left, under Highway 1 and on-up into the wilder area of Wilder. Soon a hard on-left and on-up was dictated. This is where Steamy Baanorrhea perpetrated a hare snare.

Trail continued on-up until encountering marker that said…

While mocking Baker’s Dozen’t for his cutesy spelling is an obvious option, the sheer fact he made us on-up rather than simply adding some length to trail is inexcusable. Movin’ on…

Mercifully, there was a shortcut (of sorts) that delivered the Eagles back to the split where they took off on the Turkey trail. As in the past, we took off on Old Cove Landing Trail, crossed the railroad tracks and got a stellar view of Wilder Beach. We would then transition onto Ohlone Bluff Trail which (eventually) brought us to Beer Check at Fern Grotto. Mercifully, this area was sheltered from a strong wind coming in off the ocean that portends of the rain promised for this weekend. I feel I should also mention the treacherous on-down to the beach caused by a small trickle of water that runs over the rocks leading on-down. This moisture gives rise to an impressive growth of (extremely) slick algae. I will not embarrass the person who slipped and planted their butt on these rocks, I will only say this person resides in Monterey, California.

After abandoning Beer Check, trail proceeded along the cliff and eventually turned on-right and through someone’s yard who has kindly authorized such an activity. Just as we approached the road leading to the paid parking lot, a Ranger passed by in a truck. By virtue of the fact we were leaving, he opted not to harass us. We hightailed it back to Highway 1 and on-right to where we had abandoned our vehicles. Once the DFL’s straggled in, dBASED fired up his Religion machine.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs, justified or not, issued this night: backsliders were punished, dBASED admitted he has royally screwed-up the Hash Count, Cum You Will Not for sending trail announcement to the wrong email group, Just John for not knowing what a down-down is, (remember Just John did not understand last week’s announcement and went to Religion site rather than the start) Courtesy Flush went for a bike ride rather than Hashing, Chippin’ Ballz for leaving us and moving to a ritzy area north of the Golden Gate, Mr. Wiggly for saying he’s looking forward to 2035 when he will get his 50 Run patch from us. And yes, the hares were brought up and thanked for the scenery and recycling this lousy-ass trail for the umpteenth time. With that, dBASED dismissed the pack and called for reassembly at Upper Crust Pizza. And it was so done and there was much rejoicing.

That drew this Hash to a close and it does so for this Trash as well.

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.

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-10.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Retribution,

This is the first word that comes to mind when thinking back on this trail. Pink Cherry Licker, knowing things went tragically awry with her trail last week, attempted to right that wrong employing a previously failed technique: Two wrongs make a right! Again, this was proven false and she now has two strikes against her. Taking advantage of Baker’s Dozen’t as co-hare by drafting him did nothing to improve her status in the Hash. Or HIS for that matter either.

Beginning at Seabright Social, notorious for lackluster service, order a beer rather than some hard stuff and you instantaneously attain second class citizen status. Speaking of poor service, that brings us back around to trail again. The pack assembled outside the designated drinkin’ area. Either we did not wish to be associated with them or they would prefer real customers not to think we frequented this establishment.

We were joined by Sister Mary who has not been here in over twenty years! Too bad she picked THIS trail on which to rejoin us. It may be twenty years till she shows again. Broke Bench Mountain wisely scheduled a presentation for some where just far enough away he’d only be able to make on-on-on. Accuprick left the State. Bailas Con Burros and Banana Basher, who reside a five minute walk away, closed the curtains and turned off the lights to avoid detection. The list of escapees far exceeds that of attendees. Those that DID show were soon to learn why so many did NOT show.

Acceptably late, co-hares Pink Cherry Licker and Baker’s Dozen’t delivered Instructions of Trail. The only promise kept was Liquor Check and Beer Check. Admittedly, those are the only two aspects of trail we care about anyway. Hares-out.

The ensuing fifteen minutes was passed as are they all, imbibing and ignoring; imbibing some beer and ignoring impending trail. Upon completion of those fifteen, GM Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Steamy Baanorrhea, TIMMY!!, Occasional Rapist, dBASED, Sister Mary, Cum You Will Not, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Just Danielle would show only for Religion claiming the instructions were unclear as to where the start actually was. This same fate befell Just John who, in a major case of extreme embarrassment, left prior to the pack arriving at the site for Religion. Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick represented our four-legged contingency. Pack away.

Trail led the litter on-right on the accursed railroad tracks to the locals-only on-right onto Mountain View and a check.

An on-left proved correct here and we weaved our way to East Cliff and the Turkey/Eagle split. It’s too nice to not fly with the Eagles, let’s follow that trail. Eagles crossed East Cliff and went on-down to the railroad trestle and crossed the river and made their way to Beach Street. Beach Street was used all the way to Cliff Street. Gorilla Beer Check at the Surf Bowl, maybe? No such luck. Cliff was taken to it’s apex and then on-down the steps and on-right on Laurel Street Extension. From there, we went under the Riverside Avenue bridge, on-right and over the river and on-right again onto the river levee pathway until it ends. We crossed dangerous East Cliff Drive and traipsed on-up into Ocean View Park, exited onto Ocean View Avenue and on-right onto Ocean View Way, across to Peck Terrace, on-left onto Caledonia . Then it was on-left onto Windham Street and one block later on-right onto Pine Street and past a former abode of Choka-cola and Hairy Potter. This would bring us to the glorious intersection of Cayuga, Pine and Buena Vista, everyone’s favorite five-way cluster.

A check was solved here turning the troops on-left to Windham Street and on-right there all the way to a shortcut on-right onto Glenview Street to Fredrick Street and on-right to Fredrick Street Park. Liquor Check was staged in the bushes at the entrance to the park. This is also where Sister Mary and Puff met two guys who had just spoken with the FRB’s and recognized us as hashers as well. They kept their distance from us. Trail proceeded through the park and took an on-right that leads to the locals-only path the rides the hill between the harbor and the houses fronting on Fredrick Street. This path could use some maintenance!

At the end of the path, stairs took us on-down to the harbor and on-right. This was good until passing by the original location of Aldo’s and onto the jetty where Beer Check was located at the Walton Lighthouse. Upon completion of our appointed task, we sloughed across Seabright Beach to Religion near the Third Avenue stairs. Once reassembled, now with the addition of Just Danielle, dBASED called for Hash Hush and began issuing down-downs.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: Sister Mary was punished as a (20 year) backslider; Danielle was punished as a backslider too; dBASED was labeled a short-cutting cheater; Puff for a false accusation the Hash Count was incorrect and TIMMY!! for failing to snare the hares at the 5 way intersection.

In hopes of making it to Engfer’s Pizza before the curtain fell, we’d already missed Seabright Social, dBASED declared an end to the Hash and I do so for this Trash as well.

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.

I chose to not complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind that I recounted the events that comprise Hash Twelve-Oh-9.

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

Submitted with al respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Hot enough for ya?

The only thing that could make you hotter is remembering last Thursday’s trail of terror in the vast unknown of the boundless stretches of wasteland west of Empire Grade and north of Mima Meadow. Lulled into complacency by beginning this potentially deadly trail from West Remote on the UC campus was a ploy employed by the father-daughter hare-pair of TIMMY!! and Pink Cherry Licker. As is typical of Surf City, out innate half-mindedness took precedence over our better judgement and we were as lambs to the slaughter led by our Judas goat hares.

But enough of the highlights of this trail, let us shift into the more unsavory parts.

Standing in plain sight drinking in a parking lot on the UC campus was the mildest of crimes committed this evening. We were joined by a Virgin who stumbled across us on the Internet. He must have been on the website for the Santa Cruz Police Department. Jersey Lunchbox returned from one of his mysterious, frequent trips to places about which he will not be very specific. Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose returned to the pack after attending San Diego Red Dress and completing the requisite Community Service time hashers are required to perform after the Hash. Embarrassed by abandoning Junk Puncher in a dive bar last week, Occasional Rapist made dBASED leave Junk Puncher at home. In essence, a fairly typical prelube.

Wishing this fiasco to be finalized as soon as possible, the hares had promised to on-out ten minutes early. It didn’t happen. They did, however, leave slightly prior to the normal hares-away time. Even having left at the advertised time would not have helped this trail anyway though. Hares-away.

The ensuing fifteen minutes were passed in the usual manner; no discussion of the trail to come. After the passage of that fifteen minute interlude, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Cold Smegma Kamikzae, Rubik’s Pube, Jersey Lunchbox, Steamy Baanorrhea, Accuprick, Virgin John, dBASED, Cum You Will Not, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Just Boulder (illegally) attended for our sole canine companion. Pack out.

Trail proceeded west through the parking lot and on-left on Heller Drive and directly across Empire Grade. Here we were coerced to cross a fence like common burglars. Once into a cow patty covered field, much like a World War II mine field, trail proceeded a short distance along a cow path and our beloved BN symbol was observed. While that was a welcome sight, the back-check-6 at Beer Check was not overly enjoyed. Upon completing our task here, the back-six brought us to another fence designed to contain the cattle that we had to scale risking life and limb.

Once everyone clambered over and remained intact, an extended on-down was initiated. There’s little we dislike more than a huge on-down at the beginning because that will necessitate an on-up of an equal or larger height at the END of trail. Thanks, hares.

Eventually we came to the Liquor Check and the Turkey/Eagle split on the Red Mailbox Trail. It would be treasonous to avoid an extended visit to a Redwood forest, let’s fly with the Eagles. However, as we were soon to learn, Eagles would not FLY this evening, they would climb and sometimes as slowly as the locals, banana slugs. A monstrous hill on-right from Liquor Check awaited the Eagles. Worse yet, it continued for an extended period of time eventually flattening out. By this time though, we were deep in mountain bike territory and we were forced off trail a number of times to avoid careening bikers. Soon, but not soon enough, we emerged from the forest into a field and made an on-left.

Once across this field, we reentered the forest primeval and another serious on-down was presented to us. Soon the Eagles rejoined the Turkeys and continued on-down. We may have been on the Wally World Trail, maps are somewhat inconsistent and it also did not bother our hares to take us places we shouldn’t have been taken. Eventually we performed a hundred and eight degree turn followed by another on-down. This may have been the Long Meadow Trail and it eventually brought us to a small creek.

Once across this stream, an on-right began a serious on-up which would bring us to the original field where we started albeit quite a distance away. Beer Check was repeated in it’s previous location and then an extended on-in was undertaken back to Point A. Once there, besides interrupting an astronomic session of a UC student camping in the field we chose for Religion, Accuprick fired up his machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: the Virgin was welcomed; Analversaries were celebrated; those sniffed and licked by Boulder were mocked and this gave rise to Boulder receiving his hash name: Scratch and Sniff. It seems Boulder adopted Junk Puncher’s tactic of easily identifying his kennel mates by the scent of their crotch area. Also, I would like to commit to our official collective memory an explanation of the analversary celebrated. This may have happened elsewhere but I would believe it to be a rare occurrence; a father/daughter co-hare analversary. This was TIMMY!!’s 69th haring and for his lovely daughter it was Pink Cherry Licker’s 75th outing as a hare. Let it so be recorded. Many of you are now thinking, What about the hares? Did they not receive a down-down for shitty trail? Yes, they did, I just wished to postpone our visit with them as long as possible. There were some compliments issued about touring a Redwood forest but I heard not a word about trail quality.(or the lack thereof)

We had already missed burger for on-on-on so Accuprick hastened to dismiss the pack and reassemble at Parish Publick House. I will now dismiss you from this Trash as well.

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.

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-Oh-8.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe