The word “Run” in the picture above from Trail 602 scares me as it should you. Running is, however disgusting, characteristic of a Broke Bench Mountain trail. Running does not bother this man because he knows no matter how much exercise he gets he can easily compensate for it’s undesirable effects on him by excessive drinking.
There’s your primer for Hash 602. Now for the grisly details.
We began this study in poor judgment from old standby the Rush Inn. The city attempted to camouflage this hideous hangout by placing a huge clock tower in front of it. Sadly, the tall tower garnered too much attention and made it everything from Hippie Haven to the target of college pranks. (Bubble bath in the fountain beneath the clock) These activities attracted the attention of Vince Lamblowme who now conducts business on his cell phone from here. Dark, wet, musty places have always attracted the attention of Broke Bench Mountain (just ask Mass Storage Device) so he, too, found this casbah. Has Broke Bench been here before? Answer: The beertender knew his hash name AND his mortal moniker.
BBM’s version of Instructions of Trail is to yell, There’s beer on trail! as he trots out the door. While I was happy to hear this I was NOT happy to think about what was lying in wait for me between now and finding said beer. We were happy to be joined by Just Herb, dBASED’s quasi-stepdad. As a matter of fact, I was far happier to see Herb than I was to see dBASED. Canadian Penny Slut had managed to sneak back into the States after visiting her relatives in homeland Canada. She said it’s so much easier now that they’ve all been transferred to the same prison. Great Barrier Queef made the jaunt down from Boulder Creek where’s she’s tending to Pussy Galore and Cum Lord’s huge marijuana plantation… uh…I mean watching their pets, while they’re away. Thmp-Thmp is here for his first hash with a hash name and has sworn to get even with his (insert appropriate word here) of a wife that assisted the hash in giving him his sucky name last week. Bloodweiser made the trek over-the-hill to tell us of the latest exploits of Golden Dripster who hashed with the FHAC-U last week. Swiss Army Cock, still unemployed, joined us for his weekly walk-around-the-block/Drink Fest.
After the passage of the requisite fifteen minutes, Banana Basher circled-up the pack for Hash 602. Trail went on Knight Street to North Pacific Avenue to the evening’s first check. Banana, exhibiting wishful thinking, headed towards Mission Street hoping trail went down the wonderful Avenue of Bars more commonly called Pacific Avenue. He returned though as the on-on was called, and no surprise here, from the incredibly steep and narrow steps on-up from North Pacific to Mission Hill. Trail proceeded on School Street to Emmet Street and then on-right and then on-left on High Street. Where is Bloodweiser? I took note of the fact everyone kept their eyes straight ahead as we passed Holy Cross Church much as a vampire avoids looking as a cross, so does Surf City. We did not find the expected check at the intersection of High Street and the locals-only path beside the athletic field so the gang galloped over Highway 1 on the pedestrian bridge and followed flour on-right and on-down the path to Harvey West Park. Just as we arrived at the bottom, we heard dBASED laughing so hard he could barely get out the phrase “YBF!!!” There was a moment of stunned silence. How could anyone, especially someone working with the limited abilities of Broke Bench, lay a YBF of such length? As we trudged back up the hill, everyone I passed was heard to be mumbling the word pre-lay…pre-lay.
Fast forward, we’re back at the check and everyone turns onto North Pacific headed for River Street. After a few confusing marks, on-on was sounded on-left on River. Has anyone seen Bloodweiser? I’m still yet to see him on trail at all. Just prior to Josephine Street, trail turned on-right into a field, through a group of businesses and exited from there onto Josephine, turned on-right and went on-up to the river levee. Now I could expound on how beautiful and lush the San Lorenzo River is as she weaves her weary way into our village but the truth is that along this stretch it’s a haven for drug fiends. There are more hypodermic needles sticking up than redwoods. The city could build a waste treatment plant right here for no reason other than to take care of the excrement the homeless leave behind. So consequently, Broke Bench chose this for a part of his trail. This is what comes from “scouting” your trail using the GPS function of your phone rather than being a REAL hasher and getting out there and running the damn thing.
Trail skirted along the river and used the pedestrian bridge near Highway 1 to get the gang to the other side of the river. dBASED used to make us cross the river along here as well. However, the bridge was years away from being constructed then. (Get it?) Once there, an already marked check made the merry members of this madness point their snouts on-left and onto Felker Street and head towards Ocean Street.
After dodging a few drug dealers and ignoring the drunk homeless guys sitting on a couch, we noted there were no marks. We returned to the last check. We were later to learn dBASED had marked the check incorrectly and was too friggin’ lazy to correct it as he passed back by. He said, But I blew my whistle! Too bad it’s dark at night around here and we could not tell exactly WHERE the sound was coming from. We continued along the levee and went on-left on a locals-only path leading through an apartment complex and out onto Pryce Street. Pryce was taken to Ocean Street where an on-right was indicated. This is a notorious homeless hangout and a loud klaxon has been installed to convince them to move on. Upon seeing Banana round the corner at a gas station, the attendant hit the panic button. Banana, after his hearing returned, asked the guy, Do I look like a homeless person?!? The attendant responded, No, but the only thing I dislike more than homeless are hashers!
A hare arrow soon pointed us across Ocean onto Washburn Avenue. One block later we were turned on-left onto May Avenue and then through Grant Street Park and on-right on Grant Street. Grant was traversed all the way to Market Street where, unbelievably an on-left was indicated. We’re STILL heading away from the announced site of Religion, what is Broke Bench thinking? I guess the answer is obvious though really, the man ISN’T thinking at all.
Market was taken to the locals-only road that goes along the edge of Branciforte Creek. This dark and dismal path was taken all the way to Water Street where we crossed over into the group of medical buildings and finally viewed the Beer Near mark. Like wharf rats, Surf City clustered near Branciforte Creek and slurped away on Beer Check beer. It was here we finally found Bloodweiser. Our Blood brother stayed at the Rush to see then end of the inning in the World Series. When he came out, no one was in sight. He turned on-right at North Pacific effectively avoiding the (ridiculously) long YBF.
During on-in the pack passed Occupy Santa Cruz who seem to have commandeered the Water Street side on the County Courthouse and have set up more tents than the county fair uses. Religion was on the top floor of the River Street parking structure and featured the following mistakes: Swiss Army Cock as Religious Adviser; TIMMY as Beer Fairy; Banana was persecuted by the RA because he is the one that nominated him for RA; Tiny Whiny for receiving a text on trail; dBASED for marking a check the wrong way & also for not correcting his mistake when he passed back by; dBASED again for not announcing the YBF as soon as he found it; Bloodweiser for being FRB and TIMMY for shining a flashlight on Hugh to see what she was doing in the dark…she was peeing! We also had the pleasure of a rare double naming. After all these years, Herb was finally named. Say hello to Herpie Hand Cock. Thmp-Thmp evened the score with (current) wife Jill by making sure her name is worse than his. Next time you see her tell her how sorry you are she is saddled with the burden of being forever known as Princess Diarrhea. Oh yeah, our horrible, hideous hare. I’m so glad this man lives in Boulder Creek so I do not have to worry about seeing him in Santa Cruz. I don’t want any of my REAL friends to know I spend time with him. Speaking of spending time with him, sometimes when I’m around him I feel as if I’m co-habitating with a creature from another species, one raised in the wild. Broke Bench reminds me of one of those small yapping dogs. The louder it barks, the more you want to kick it.
On-on-on was at two Mexican restaurants apparently, the one on the corner of River and Water and the one on North Pacific too. On-on-on-on was back at the Rush and was attended by TIMMY and Bloodweiser who was still swilling away when TIMMY and Puff left.
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 as Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the twenty-third day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand eleven.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen