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

Welcome,

To Abbott Square where a tri-power group of hares will give an alternative meaning to the word ‘square’. While trail itself proved to be circular, more or less, the persons laying said trail lacked even a modicum of the social graces. Allow me to illustrate.

Pleasantries were exchanged at Abbott Square while awaiting the arrival of all three hares. Apparently they did not begin their pre-lay early enough. Sadly, this was but the first of a number of miscalculations on their part. Eventually though all the hares appeared and immediately put their little pointed heads together to put the final touches on their trail.

After conferring for a number of minutes, they concluded it was far too late in the game to salvage even a mediocre trail so they went with what they had. More than a little sweat was evident when the hares delivered an unconvincing Instructions of Trail. They hopped off.

By virtue of the fact few people listened to their dreary soliloquy, no one took note of the direction in which they departed. This would plague us in the future. After the fifteen minute lead time, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Cum You Will Not, Wicked Retahted, Baker’s Dozen’t, Leaky Rubber, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Accuprick, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just Kamryn, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, Hugh Heifer, L’eggs, Virgin Ginger, Virgin Monroney, Virgin Mike, Ska-Skank Redemption, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Snake Me Anywhere and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Boulder, Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick represented the four-legged hound entourage.

We proceeded to the corner of Cooper Street and Pacific Avenue where we would take up residence for an extended period.

A whistle was heard far up Pacific so off the pack went but upon arriving at the top of the Mall, no marker was to be found. Then whistle was again heard but this time from Plaza Lane. The pack went back down Pacific and finally did see the reason for all that whistling. Marker was found and took the troops to Cedar Street where and on-right was indicated bringing us to the intersection with Center and Chestnut streets. Here was another: Which way did they go, which way did they go? moment. Hounds were sent scurrying a number of directions until one sounded a whistle down Chestnut Street. This street, incidentally, takes one past what must be the most bizarrely named street in Santa Cruz: Squid Row. After over four and a half decades here, I’ve yet to encounter a member of the cephalopod family on this bleak street. Somewhere along here reputedly was a Turkey/Eagle split. While I did not personally see such, I do remember seeing Dung-Fu Grip take off on-right on-up the Green Street hill and not return. I hope he enjoyed his visit.

The majority of the pack continued along Chestnut Street until it junctions with Chestnut Street Extension and Rincon Street. Here, between speeding cars, we were directed to cross Chestnut and take the locals-only walkway on-up to the continuation of Locust Street and on-right when it ends at Mission Street. This would bring us to the massive intersection with King and Union streets. This would have been an acceptable location for Beer Check as it takes so damn long for the pedestrian signal to illuminate.

Once across Mission, we were treated to a repeat performance in an attempt to cross King Street. After completing this dreary task we hoofed it to Highland Avenue where we were again coerced into placing our lives into the hands of car drivers as we crossed. Once safely across, we were directed on-left and on-up to High Street where an on-right was indicated. The pedestrian over-crossing was used and then an on-left down the locals-only path leading to Potrero Street and not far on-down Potrero we stumbled over Rubik’s Pube manning Liquor Check. It was Cinco de Mayo so tequila was one of the options.

After concluding our business here, it was on-down to River Street and across to the River Street Shopping Plaza, across the huge parking lot, on-up to the top of the levee, on-left there and across the pedestrian bridge over the river. Once across, we undertook the boring task of traversing the entire length of the levee to Water Street with the exception of the last hundred yards where we were directed to on-down into the parking lot for the county jail, AKA the Hound Pound. After successfully tip-toeing through the parking lot, it was on-left at Water Street and on-right at the intersection with Ocean Street. Then we were pointed on-right through the parking lot of the hideously ugly County building and on-left into San Lorenzo Park. We exited the park to Dakota Street and on-right to cross Soquel Avenue and across Broadway and soon into the backyard of Clearly Not A Hooker’s home.

There was food all over the place and a great amount of time was spent here trying to make it all disappear. Eventually though we moseyed to the top floor of the parking garage on River Street where Accuprick fired-up his RA machine. Here’s a partial listing of down-downs dispensed: Pink Cherry Licker and L’eggs crooned a new tune for us about underwear, Underwhere? was punished for not knowing a song that pertains to him, Short-cutters were busted, Hugh Heifer was congratulated on getting a new job, Ska-Skank Redemption was congratulated for going to Trinidad for InterHash…even though it was cancelled(!), those who’s dogs pooped on trail. Lastly, the hares were punished. That brought an end to this Hash and that brings an end to 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.

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 ninth 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

Our hare,

Today Is Monday, a consummate FHACU’er, was seen leaving Santa Cruz at a high rate of speed immediately following Hash 1186. That is a concise description of his opinion of the trail he laid for us which, if I may be so bold, is vastly superior to the opinion WE hold pertaining to his trail.

If you still wish to continue with the rehash of this hash, there may be something wrong with you. While drinking a beer while reading it will not cure you, it will most certainly improve your outlook.

The hare, accompanied by Yellow Prick Load, chose Urbani’s Cellar for prelube. Sadly, they were the only ones that did so. The remainder of the flock flew to Shanty Shack, Shabby Shack in hash parlance, and embarrassed themselves there. After washing enough glasses to settle their beer tab, one and all reassembled at the picnic area of Harvey West Park conveniently located beside a cemetery. And yes, you’re correct, we were here a mere three weeks prior. This is an excellent example of hare slothfulness, TIM will incorporate part of THAT trail into HIS trail.

We had a number of backsliders, e.g., Rubik’s Pube and Underwhere?, making rare guest appearances. Underwhere? brought a Virgin so we know what HE’S been up to the past few months.

After the level of socializing calmed to a dull roar, Today Is Monday mounted a picnic table and related Instructions of Trail. Sadly, there a few relatively important aspects he neglected to mention such as the Danger Cans might be taken prior to the arrival of the majority of the pack or staged in a patch of poison oak. These were details our hare deemed unnecessary.

After divesting ourselves of our hare, Dung-Fu Grip administered the Chalk Talk to Virgin Meg. She appeared to listen intently but I also took note of the fact that she was also drinking heavily at the time. Upon completion of that task, co-GM Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and received responses from the following: Clearly Not A Hooker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Yellow Prick Load, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Pee Skool, Cum You Will Not, dBASED, Underwhere?, Banana Basher, My Little Bony, Accuprick, Virgin Meg, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Dung-Fu Grip, Rubik’s Pube, Whackoff Smirnoff, L’eggs and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hounds was Junk Puncher, Spott’d Dick and Boulder. There’s our list of participants for this week. Let’s go see what they get up to.

There was confusion at the very start. A check atop a mound of dirt just outside Wagner Grove had hounds scurrying in all directions. It appears dBASED went on-up through Wagner Grave but found nothing, supposedly, and came back which sent everyone everywhere. More on this screw-up later. We did, sadly, find a dead black cat which Hooker promptly recommended TIMMY!! attach to the Hashit. This offer was adamantly refused. More on THIS later as well. Eventually, being firmly committed to trail proceeding through Wagner Grove, a more thorough inspection discovered flour and the pack was off.

Wagner Grove Trail ejected us onto Meadow Court which almost immediately morphs in Meadow Road which was taken to Spring Street where an on-right was indicated beginning a rather boring and definitely steep on-up to Pogonip. Once into Pogonip, the domain of the catamount, trail turned on-right onto Spring Trail. This began another boring but scenic stretch terminated by an on-right onto Lookout Trail. One would think Lookout Trail was so named due to the stellar views. This proved a misconception. The name of this trail should actually Look Out! Once through the field area, rocks and tree roots abound, each with thoughts of tripping the unwary amongst us. Poison oak, cleverly concealing itself within ivy and holly, lines both side of this supposedly scenic trail. As if that is not sufficient danger for a negligent hound, Danger Can was carelessly tossed into a patch of poison oak.

Lookout Trail winds on-down towards Harvey West Park but upon meeting up with Harvey West Trail, makes an abrupt on-left and heads on-down under the cover of Redwoods and ends at Pogonip Creek Nature Loop Trail. This trail brought the gang to Golf Club Drive where and on-right pointed us back toward civilization. A steep on-up onto the tracks and an on-right pointed the pod home. At Pioneer Street we were redirected to where the hare sat dispensing some hard liquor for those intrigued enough to try it. Munchies were also kindly provided. As if a Danger Can and Liquor Check were not sufficient, the pack then adjourned to Shanty Shack (the second time for many of us) for the Beer Check. The area was confiscated for our purposes and staff kept a sharp eye on us for the duration of our visit. After completing our business, the meeting was adjourned and reconvened back in Harvey West Park.

Once the DFL’s straggled in, Accuprick assumed the role of Religious Adviser and started rattling off a number of down-downs. Here’s a sampling: backsliders were punished; the hare was punished for not producing the FHAC-U invasion he promised; the Virgin was welcomed; the Hashit was awarded and the hare was sent packing. Due to the lateness of the hour, on-on-on was a no-show. This was when the RA declared an end to the 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.

The sole purpose of a Scribe 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 fourth 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

Welcome,

To the tale of a failed trail. You will not be able to finish even one beer before this Trash has ended. That is NOT due to the fact that this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is not deserving of all the verbal abuse I can heap upon him but rather due to the fact this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is so amazingly undeserving of that much of my time. Or of the time it would take you to read it.

Everyone was properly attired in foul weather gear as rain was predicted. When this Hash was completed, we’d experienced no foul weather but trail DID manage to put everyone in a foul MOOD. Let’s delve into the reasons for this.

Many hounds showed up at campsite sixty where Courtesy Flush had ensconced himself. They were then reminded the start was from the laughably named amphitheater. Back they went. Once every fool that intended to attempt this trail was present, Courtesy Flush distributed MAPS of his trail! I say ‘his’ trail but what I meant was a trail kindly provided by the California State Park System which is of course funded by you and I so it was actually the PACK that came up with this trail and Courtesy Flush merely absconded with it. He then mounted a picnic table and explained what he believed we should know and that all he really wanted was for no one to get lost. This is double-speak for ‘I do not want to have to come looking for you’. Well, by virtue of the fact everyone had a damn map, the chances of even persons as half-minded as ourselves becoming directionally-challenged were miniscule.

The chatter during the hares’ requested lead time of a mere five minutes was relegated to staring at maps and asking, Where are we on this map? After we believed we’d located our current location, acting GM Pink Cherry Licker called for Circleup for Introductions which was actually a euphemism for: Let’s get this damn thing over with! Here’s a list of the foolish fools that answered her call: Clearly Not A Hooker, dBASED, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, Pee Skool, Hareless, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Steamy Baanorrhea, L’eggs, Dung-Fu Grip(carrying some of the Beer Check beer!) and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick were skulking around the periphery attempting to avoid Ranger Danger.

As I anticipate a rather lackluster trail, Hash Flash chooses to enjoy the stellar scenery and will opt for the Eagle trail this evening. Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip and myself wave good-bye to dBASED as he chooses the incorrect trail right from the start. We three took off on Pine Trail which curves back by the entrance kiosk and parallels Graham Hill road for a while before curving on-left and into some heavy chaparral. Pine Trail eventually junctions with Eagle Creek Trail and, appropriately enough, the Eagles veered on-left onto Eagle Creek Trail.

Trail has been relatively uneventful this far, a few ups and a few downs. Now that we’ve begun to gain some elevation, the trail has become sand. I’ve always found it disconcerting to be high on a wooded mountain and find sand beneath my rear paws. Eventually we left the chaparral aft and headed on-down under the Redwood canopy. Trail has begun to incline steeply on-down, dancing over redwood roots and is getting slick. A definite recipe for disaster. I saw many an elongated foot print on some of the downhill sections. Soon Eagle Creek Trail junctions with River Trail and Pipeline Road beside a small stream and the very bottom of the park. Pipeline is actually a paved surface and we so went on-left. This began a series of most unpleasant on-ups of a serious nature. Fallen trees litter the roadside, probably pulled to the ground by gravity considering how steep the hillsides are here. I, too, almost fell victim to that irresistible force a number of times before attaining the crest.

Soon Pipeline Trail met with Ridge Fire Road and that on-left was made but, sadly, the climbing did not cease. Soon trail was to emerge from beneath the Redwood canopy and back into the desolation of a vast chaparral field. Trail continued it’s meandering trek, much of which was in a deep trench of sand, until nearing the top and the observation deck came into view. From a hundred yards away the cacophony of Beer Check was discernible.

The view was spectacular but I believe there are easier ways to arrive where it can be seen. Upon deletion of as much beer as we felt advisable prior to undertaking the trek on-down off the mountain, the pack reassembled for a leisurely stroll on-in.

Religion was moved from the amphitheater, a good idea, to campsite sixty, the home of Courtesy Flush et. al. With Accuprick absent, Dung-Fu Grip and Pink Cherry Licker assembled their altar and began issuing down-downs. Here’s a sampling of the transgressions: Those that attended last Saturday’s Hash Bash Hash Bash; dBASED and TIMMY!! who opted for an incorrect trail; Occasional Rapist for being an accomplice hare; TIMMY!! for being an unintentional FRB, Jim(from observation deck) attending with wife Marion; TIMMY!! was awarded the Hashit for his FRB ways. Oh, yeah. The RA’s DID bring the hares up but little mention was made of trail itself. That brought an end to this Hash as it does this Trash. The healing process began as marshmallows were burned and incredible amounts of chocolate, in various incarnations, was devoured. The party lasted well past the time allowed by campground rules. The party will ALWAYS do so, too.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Happy Birthday to Rat Pussy,

That’s the only praise he will receive in this Trash. While you may believe that harsh for our Birthday Boy, this Trash will elaborate on the multitude of reasons he is a bad person and deserving of all the insults I can heap upon him.

Rat Pussy’s obvious ploy was to lull the litter into a sense of security and complacency by beginning this week’s trail from his (current) place of employment, Steel Bonnet Brewing Company in Scotts Valley. He further tried to fool us by mentioning that even though it was his birthday, duty to his company dictate he worked that day and still lay trail for us in the evening. This was intended to make us envious of his sense of dedication. Our mistake was arriving at this judgement prior to hashing his trail. We should have taken the absence of the hot dog truck as evidence the night would not progress as we anticipated. The hot dog vendor said they would not be present due to the rain. As you know, it rained very little and not even that for many hours. These people suspected Rat Pussy’s trail would go cattywampus and did not want to be associated with it.

The outdoor drinkin’ area at Steel Bonnet was filled by the flock almost to the complete exclusion of mortals. Most of them took one look out the back door and decided the inside of the building would serve their needs far better than having to deal with us.

Dishonorable Mention should be given to L’eggs who covered herself in full-on bunny attire and instructed her Virgin to do the same. I do not remember any mention of an Easter theme in the hare’s trail announcement. The RA will deal with L’eggs during Religion I feel certain.

After quaffing a commendable quantity of Steel Bonnet’s excellent ales, the hares delivered a disjointed set of Instructions of Trail. A number of hounds actually listened but mainly to accumulate charges against the hare-pair for use during Religion. Shall we say they were not disappointed either. There was a warning not to cross Scotts Valley Drive without the benefit of a designated crosswalk area. After hares-out, socializing was renewed, everyone wishes to put aside our impending tragedy. Upon the passage of the fifteen minute lead time, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for a Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following hounds: Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Occasional Rapist, Leaky Rubber, Baker’s Dozen’t, Ska-Skank Redemption, Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cum You Will Not, L’eggs(in bunny attire), Accuprick, Hugh Heifer, Virgin Ashley(in Alice in Wonderland outfit), Pee Skool, Pink Cherry Licker, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen plus our four-legged hounds, Boulder, Spott’d Dick and Junk Puncher. There’s this week’s cast of characters, and I DO mean characters. Action!

Apparently, there were a number of trail options this evening. I will briefly recap the one I chose.

Trail proceeded to Scotts Valley Drive and a check. dBASED, stating he’d seen the hares cross over, did the same. He would soon fade into the distance and become an unintentional FRB. True trail proceeded on-left one block to another check at Butler Lane. It was on-left onto Butler, on-right onto Victor Square when Butler ends and this eventually brought us back to Scotts Valley Drive. This hare-pair is of the opinion it’s never too early on trail for a circle-jerk. Across the street there was a whichy-way. The correct direction was on-left towards town. This was NOT the direction chosen by dBASAED. Somewhat farther along a sharp-eyed Accuprick noticed a hare arrow across the expanse of Scotts Valley Drive. This would send us onto El Pueblo Drive. El Pueblo Drive is a rather boring stretch of asphalt which, upon reflection, was basically the theme of this entire trail. Eventually an on-right onto Carbonero Way was indicated soon to be followed by the LC mark.

Whatever was in the unmarked bottle at Liquor Check, it was sweet and potent.

Staggering away from Liquor Check, the pack arrived at Scotts Valley Drive…again, and were pointed across(with benefit of a crosswalk) and then turned on-right. At Willis Road, a hare arrow, which would become invisible in the soon-to-fall darkness, turned the troops on-left and one block later we were pointed on-right onto Grace Way. Grace Way performs a mild but nonetheless perturbing on-up. Thankfully, there was purpose to this, Beer Check was located part way on-up the hill.

Upon the completion of our duty here, on-in was on-up Grace Way, on-right on Hacienda Drive to Scotts Valley Drive(yet again) and on-right to Religion. Once safely in residence at our usual gathering spot, Dung-Fu Grip assumed the reins as RA and gave Accuprick a break. Here’s a partial listing of the down-downs issued: dBASED for unintended but nonetheless massive short-cutting; Pink Cherry Licker, Cumz Out My Nose, Pee Skool and Courtesy Flush for avoiding trail though Courtesy Flush did manage to catch the pack at Beer Check(of course!); Baker’s Dozen’t convicted of chivalry on trail for throwing chalk all the way across Scotts Valley Drive to Leaky Rubber and Leaky Rubber for not HAVING chalk in the first place; dBASED for wildly and haphazardly swinging the Hashit along trail like it was a scythe; L’eggs and Virgin Ashley crooned a tune they conceived along trail; Virgin Ashley was welcomed to the Hash; L’eggs honored for completing her 25th hash with us; L’eggs was awarded the Hashit for having her Virgin dress in costume for a hash that HAD no theme. Oh, yeah. The RA also dragged the hare-pair to the altar to sacrifice them to an unsatisfied pack. Deservedly so, I might add. After dispensing with the hares, the RA declared and end to Hash 1184 and I hereby do the same for the Trash that has chronicled it.

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 nineteenth day of April in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe