Trash 862Our scribes have taken to fleeing the country as of late, so you’re stuck with another Dung-Fu Hash Recycling (trash is gross.) Much like my previous one, we started off the side of a road near an entrance to one of our county’s finest natural preserves. Unlike the Can’d invasion however, we have only ourselves to blame for this one.
Pack was a ragtag bunch of regulars, backsliders, old timers, and a virgin, and we milled about the parking lot discussing charms, tie dye, and buying tequila from children. One of the turn-ins to the parking area was a fairly treacherous drop into a dusty ravine, and Shallow Hole decided to take her hybrid off-roading with predictable – albeit not entirely disastrous – results. Virgin Bradley was given chalk talk, which was immediately pissed upon by Vaginal Repair Kit’s tiny and adorable dog. A few locals took a look at us and split, leaving us ample room to circle up and get the show on the road, which we did.
Trail went about twenty meters and split. Turkey and Eagle were supposed to be about the same length with Eagle having more shiggy. And glorious shiggy it was!
We scampered through the woods, galloped down a few switch backs, hoped over a stream (or crossed a fallen tree,) climbed up some stairs clearly intended for giants or bigfoots (bigfeet?) and then ran down a long sandy patch until the trails rejoined. I hear Turkeys walked along the fire road.
It also bears mentioning, that everywhere on this trail was poop. So much poop. I’ve worked in stables with less horse poop. I once spent three entire days fertilizing an orchard with horse poop, and I was still impressed with the amount of poop of trail.
Anyway, we all rejoined at this check that caused momentary confusion, and then dBased called On-On a little back from the check and we were on-up the hill. Up and up we went through trees and shrubs and flowers, until we stumbled out to an observation deck, where our hares had packed in booze for a beautifully scenic beer check.
Those interested in the sights were also able to borrow a pair of binoculars provided by the hares to creep on some nature, or if you climbed up this little antennae on the deck, the boardwalk. While the Turkeys continued to filter in, Thmp-Thmp lugged further libations to the thirsty crowd. I should really say something snarky here, but the view was excellent, the beer delicious, and with beer check in the middle of the woods, the r*cists had the opportunity to get some extra miles.
Sort of.
There was this strange vote thing about whether or not trail should continue, and the vote against trail seemed to win even through less people voted for it, but then the hares took off anyway, and after a little time the r*nners took off after them, immediately snaring them, but then continuing on anyway. I dunno. It was fun and pretty, that’s all that matters.
Religion was in the this little clearing down from the start, and as I was RA-ing, I leave the recollection of down-downs to Puff. We seem to have had: Vaginal Repair Kit, Taco Tramp, and Fucked-Over Fest with tech on trail; Shallow for testing the suspension of her car; Hugh, noticing that no once else had fallen in the stream, took one for the team; Virgin Brady flashed us; Just Shay misread “on-on” as “onion;” and last but not least, the hares of Princess and Thmp were thanked for their excellent trail. And by that, I mean roundly cursed.
On-on-on was at Santa Cruz Diner, where only Timmy and Puff showed.
And with that, the hash went in peace, and some got a piece.
