Hash 1190 Bury the hares, not the beer!

Greater Purpose,

That was Point A for Hash 1190, certainly NOT a term applicable to what our hare-pair had in mind for us. You may recall Courtesy Flush’s last visit to this area, we narrowly averted a loss of life that particular time as the tide swept two harriers and one dog off the rocks and out to sea. We were promised such would not reoccur this time. (Hares lie though)

We convened at Greater Purpose Brewing and immediately commandeered an area where sol could shine upon us.

Banana Basher, Courtesy Flush and Baker’s Dozen’t bask like lizards

Attendance looked promising, especially considering who the hares were. The outdoor area began to fill as zero hour approached. Not long past the promised time, the hares strode to the front of the pack and delivered a detailed Instructions of Trail. The urn containing our elixir of life would be buried beneath the sand and mine sweepers would be provided to allow us to excavate it. Or something like that. After we heard this, we stood mouth agape and heard none of the other details tossed our way. Let’s pretend we did not hear such and continue socializing. Hares out.

Little if any discussion of impending trail were spoken during the fifteen minute lead time. As a matter of fact, the hares declared they would not require that much time. This would indicated an unprecedented level of pre-lay in my estimation. Be that as it may, we opted not to surrender valuable drinkin’ time so the full fifteen minutes they got. As a matter of fact, when co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions, a few hounds opted to continue swilling away. Such as…

International House of Pussy and Cold Smegma Kamikaze refuse to leave the drinkin’ area

Circleup proceeded with their voices being heard from afar. In addition to those two hoodlums, these other hounds barked as well: Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Leaky Rubber, Wicked Retahted, Clearly Not A Hooker, Accuprick, Cum You Will Not, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hound contingency was Junk Puncher, Spott’d Dick and Boulder. We have marshaled our forces for the coming battle, time to on-out.

Trail exited the parking lot heading east to 17th Avenue. There we were turned on-left and away we went. And went. And went. Finally we were turned on-left onto the road leading to Simpkins Swim Center. Once safely past not one but two Sheriff vehicles we were pointed on-left into the Schwan Lake area of Twin Lakes State Beach. Thinking Liquor Check may be located within, everyone took the known circle jerk to the lake and back up the other side. Partway along this trail, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left into a second portion of the area. Marker again pointed the pack on-left but someone had placed a pack arrow ignoring the marker. Normally, this would be viewed as a kindness from FRB’s to those farther back. Sadly, those that followed the short-cutting arrow bypassed Liquor Check.

Trail proceeded to the tracks and turned on-left. After almost half a mile of riding the rails, we arrived at 7th Avenue and the promised Turkey/ Eagle split. The Turkeys are going on-left. It’s a beautiful day, let’s fly with the Eagles. Eagles went on-right and discovered a check at 7th and Mello Lane.

Guess who chose incorrectly at the check on 7th and Mello Lane?!?

On-left onto Mello would be the correct choice. (Trivia: Mello Lane was once home to Apple Bobber) Mello Lane ends at a staircase that will deposit you in the upper harbor. There it was on-left and around the horn of the harbor and down the other side all the way to the Murray Street Bridge. There it was across the harbor and on-right onto Lake Avenue. For some good scenery, the hares directed the Eagles to on-right and on-down to the walkway beside the harbor then on-left in front of the Crow’s Nest, snake around harbor beach and then on-right onto East Cliff Drive. This is a stunningly dangerous section of road fit for neither pedestrian nor bicyclist due to it’s narrowness and close proximity to speeding tourists. Mercifully, the first available on-right, that being Prospect Street, was taken.

Prospect was taken until an on-right on 12th Avenue which eventually plops you onto the sand. This is when the search for the cooler began.

TIMMY!! uses his mine sweeper to locate the buried beer

Eventually the cooler was collected and the celebration began. Once the DFL’s arrived the party was relocated to Black’s Beach and, serendipitously, a group leaving bequeathed us their already-flaming fire. Once reassembled, Accuprick fired up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: TIMMY!! for piloting the beer wagon full speed ahead over a speed bump and grabbing some major air, IHOP for finding the beer on the beach, Clearly Not A Hooker for attending the Mount Madonna campout, Wicked Retahted for suggesting we throw metal stakes into the fire(he thought they were meat steaks), analversaries and those that missed/skipped Liquor Check. Oh, yeah, the hares.

Our thoroughly reviled hare-pair: Baker’s Dozen’t, Courtesy Flush

This was sufficient cause for Accuprick to declare an end to this Hash and I hereby 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.

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-fifth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with a respect due,



Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

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