All posts by Puff

Trail 1153: Witches into bitches!

Salutations,

       Most hashers, I admit myself included, looked forward to returning to Bruno’s in Scotts Valley. It’s an excellent venue, so fine in fact, that it will be the site of AGM in November. Hopefully, by then all that attended this trail will have forgotten the horror that ensued.

       While the indoor area is closed,(thanks, COVID!) the outdoor deck was more than sufficient to contain the clan.


Remarkably, hare trio Wines Like A Bitch, Just Ash and Rainbow Butthole outed on time. This compensated somewhat for the vague Instructions of Trail from Rainbow. There were a lot of ‘Trail is short and fun’ and ‘There’s plenty of good scenery’ and other such promises made. I took note of the fact not a damn one came to pass.


Trail began correctly enough with a check. However, in an echo of last week’s bizarre beginning, a false was soon encountered returning the gang to the start. Another avenue of escape was found and this one took the troops past the movie theater(which serves beer inside), through the bus station and on-right onto Bluebonnet Lane. When Bluebonnet ended we were directed on-right onto Bean Creek Road. This would appear to be the logical direction as we began our circling of town to eventually return to Point A. Sadly, this was the last ‘logical’ tact employed by our hares.

The length of Bean Creek was traversed until a check at Scotts Valley Drive was observed. Remember this intersection, 20/20 hindsight informs you that you will view it again just from a different angle. Trail proceeded across Scotts Valley Drive and on-right to Mount Hermon Road. Once there, we were directed to cross and on-left heading out of town. Hmmm…this does not bode well, I fear chicanery afoot. A check at Glen Canyon Road was solved and instructed the gang to cross back over Mount Hermon Road and toddle along Glen Canyon. A quarter of a mile up Glen Canyon, Liquor Check was discovered.


While this was a welcome sight, our exit strategy is unclear. We cannot continue farther unless the hares intend to lay a Death March. Just past Liquor Check, marking put the pack in reverse to try out the opposite side of Glen Canyon in a reversal of trail. As the FRB’s and mid-packers reached Oak Creek Boulevard, two items of interest occurred; trail turned on-right and on-up the huge hill of Oak Creek and the Walkers came into view. Upon seeing the front of the pack, the Walkers completely skirted Liquor Check. This proved beneficial to them, the last thing they needed was to hit Liquor Check and then attempt the Oak Creek hill. Once the Oak Creek hill was crested, and that was no easy feat either I dare say, we traveled until intersecting with Quien Sabe Road. No, that’s NOT a typo, that’s what the damn road is called. I assume that’s a person’s name, probably the poor devil evicted from the land when the Europeans arrived. Be that as it may, it was the reverse of the Oak Creek hill. We downhilled at an exceptional rate of speed and arrived back at Scotts Valley Drive and made an on-right.

Well, at least SOME hounds made an on-right. Those members of the herd lucky enough to be a ways back found a ‘correction’, courtesy of dBASED, informing them such was a circle jerk and to instead make an on-left onto Scotts Valley Drive. Trail soon returned to the intersection of Scotts Valley Drive and Bean Creek Road. It was like deja vu all over again. Trail crossed Bean Creek and trespassed through some private property back to Mount Hermon. Here and on-right was indicated and soon trail turned on-right and into Beer Check in an alley behind Safeway. Here a sad sight was seen.


So, we held Beer Check with all the fixings ‘cept for beer! Admittedly, this was soon corrected by the hares whom, after the COVID intermission, thought Beer Check beer was provided by the Beermeister. Once things were copacetic, Religious Adviser Accuprick convened Religion. The following transpired during such with appropriate down-downs being dispensed: dBASED for directing much of the pack to shortcut; Cold Smegma Kamikaze for not bringing the black cat with him from Liquor Check; Just Ash celebrated her first haring(hideous though it was); Cumz Out My Nose celebrated her 350th hash with us; Dicky Wacker was mocked for wearing a convict outfit thinking this was our Hallowe’en Hash(!); the hares were spanked(though Wines appeared to enjoy such) for not bringing beer to Beer Check; Moose Turd Pie for his backsliding ways; Princess Di(arrhea) completed her 400th hash with us; The Human Pube for only seeing fit to join us for Religion; Baker’s Dozen’t for promising us a new song and then forgetting the damn thing. Now, the highlight of the evening, which was the naming of Just Ash. She has been hashing with us for over a year but refused to hare. Finally, Rainbow and Wines gave her an ultimatum: Hare or face excommunication! This hollow threat was sufficient and Ash relented. Admittedly, her first effort was not noteworthy but we’ll lay that on the doorstep of experienced hares Rainbow and Wines.


A meeting of the half-minds to name Just Ash

After much deliberation (and drinkin’) Just Ash morphed into Driponya. After that matter was disposed of, hare trio Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch and (the now) Driponya were chided for a bizarrely configured trail.

After Accuprick declared this hash over and dismissed the pack, a good size group reconvened at the recently opened Chimichanga restaurant for further libations.


And that pretty much did it for this trail and that pretty much does it for this Trash as well.

By 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 sixteenth day of September in the year of our Hash Two-thousand twenty-one.

On-out,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3

Trash 1152: Death Valley

Greetings,

       Let’s delve deeply into Trail 1152…even though we shall dearly regret such.

       This trail began pleasantly enough(even though Banana Basher was there) at Mission West or Ye Olde Watering Hole if you are old(like TIMMY!!).


At the appropriate time, TIMMY!! delivered his usual disjointed Instructions of Trail. I would recount a portion of them, however, as did most of the pack, I did not listen as TIMMY!! seldom says anything that even could be remotely associated with events that are about to transpire.

After introductions, a check in the parking lot sent hounds scurrying in all directions like field mice. dBASED soon gave the on-on west on McPherson and across Swift Street. Not far past Swift and after the FIFTH mark, false trail markings were encountered. This shatters our tradition of no false trail markings after the second mark. In other words, once true trail is established with the third mark, you cannot have a ‘false’ true trail. This is a break with Surf City tradition TIMMY!! neglected to mention. 

Once back to the start, marking was found leading east on McPherson but, once again, false markings were soon discovered. In keeping with the optimistic euphemism, Third time’s the charm, hounds headed north to Mission Street and, after successfully completing the dangerous transition from the south side of Mission to the north, yet another true trail was discovered. 

The troops traipsed north on King to Mesa Lane and then on-left onto Escalona Drive. This led the litter to a check at Arroyo Seco. There’s a locals-only passageway beside a house that gives onto an entrance to Arroyo Seco Canyon. That’s where dBASED headed and did not return. Over a quarter of a mile up this path, a numbered backcheck with a double-digit of marks was found. I detect the malodorous stench of pre-lay!

The gang backtracked the appropriate number of marks and found themselves back at the entrance to Arroyo Seco Canyon. The path leading to Grandview Street proved correct where an on-right was taken. We traveled the entire length of Grandview to it’s culmination point past Western Drive.

Now began what we assumed would be the most dangerous section of trail: running along California Highway 1. Little did we know that the worst was yet to be encountered. TIMMY!! did not waste time and effort writing Don’t Get Killed as we entered Highway 1 as it would have been a pointless gesture. We were merely moving targets for RV’s piloted by people who normally drove nothing larger than a Prius or a Hyundai. They gyrated wildly along the highway at breakneck speeds trying to get to the next campground paying no attention to anything other than their gas gauge.

Remarkably, no one became a hood ornament and all safely reached Shaffer Road and then executed an on-left onto Mission Street. In the valley holding Moore Creek, a hare arrow pointed us on-up into a patch of woods normally associated with persons that are sleeping outdoors.


This would take us onto the private property of Pacific Shores Apartments. Eventually we’d wind our wicked way to the train trestle over Antonelli Pond. Trail proceeded south to Delaware. Here Scribe beheld a bizarre sight: co-hare Pink Cherry Licker playing ring-around-the-roses with dBASED. They alternately pursued each other circumnavigating a immense RV parked at the entrance to Antonelli Pond. It appeared to be the same one that barely missed taking out a group of hounds as they ran beside Highway 1 earlier on trail today. Mercifully, I was only subjected to this vision of insanity for a few minutes as late-cummer DungFu Grip pulled up beside me. We chose to ignore this, writing it off to an alcohol-induced hallucination. There was a strange marking here. It appeared to be an adulterated package check. So oddly shaped was it though that DungFu and Puff assumed it was intended only for circumcised males so we ignored it and proceeded west on Delaware and took the nice new path on-left towards Long Marine Lab. We were moving slowly, so slowing in fact Hugh Heifer was able to snare us. We three proceeded onto the grounds of Long Marine Lab and past the remains of two whales.

 

This trio rounded the horn and took off for De Anza Mobile Home Park. Mercifully, the gate into the park is not locked until 9PM so we transgressed through the entire width of the park and out the eastern side onto the escarpment overlooking Natural Bridges State Beach. Contrary to what we previously believed, trotting beside Highway 1 was NOT the most dangerous part of trail but the crossing of Death Valley proved our undoing. Hugh Heifer, DungFu Grip and Puff found trail most of the way across the beach but missed the on-left leading to the trail beside Moore Creek. We eventually discovered trail in the parking lot beside the welcoming center for the Monarch butterfly preserve. We were the lucky ones. The group behind us went directly across the beach to West Cliff Drive where the poor bastards intercepted the Eagle trail. Worse yet, they began to follow it in reverse further delegating themselves to a sad demise. Many of them soon surrendered and returned to the start, Accuprick among them who ran up a grand total of over 5 miles and STILL did not make Beer Check.

In the woods between Natural Bridges and Delaware, Hugh, DungFu and Puff tripped over the Turkey/Eagle split. While contemplating our next misstep, Hugh called Cum You Will Not who stated the Walkers were doing fine and were just exiting the the trailer park headed onto the beach. This is the last heard from those soon-to-be-lost-doggies for a very long time. Hugh and Puff opted for the Turkey and DungFu(of course) chose Eagle. His decision proved serendipitous for the Walkers as he was able to usher them into Beer Check after they, too, lost trail in Death Valley. 

Soon the herd migrated to the parking lot of the former Texas Instruments building which has now been confiscated by UC where only those souls with Top Secret security clearances know what dastardly deeds are done.

Once Religion was convened, a number of down-downs were issued: DungFu as a trail angel for shepherding the walkers into Beer Check; dBASED as an angel(how rare!) for assisting the Turkey hare, Pink Cherry Licker, with repairing her section of trail; Broke Bench Mountain for auto-hashing a section of trail in a stolen vehicle; Steamy Baanorrhea, DungFu and Cum You Will Not for resorting to technology on trail; hare-pair TIMMY!! and (offspring) Pink Cherry Licker for placing 5 marks and THEN throwing the false trail marking; Pink Cherry Licker celebrated 69 harings; Occasional Rapist celebrated 450 hashes with us and lastly(deservedly so too I might add) the hares were chided for leading the litter into Death Valley.

That pretty much covers the disaster we now refer to as Hash 1152 or TIMMY!! and his Trail of Terror.

By 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 fourteenth day of September in the year of our Hash Two-thousand twenty-one.

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3


Trash 1138

Salutations,

       This will be a primitive Hash Trash apropos of the trail it will chronicle.  Why this trail as opposed to any of the exquisite trails your acting Scribe has provided for you over the past fifteen months or none of the previous rude and crude outings thrust upon us by DungFu Grip you may wonder? Because, this trail, my dear kennel mates both old and new, marks our emergence from our chrysalis; our government-mandated and our self-imposed isolation, the evade-the-virus mentality that seized the world’s mentality since March of twenty-twenty. Hashdom never had to face such an adverse occurrence prior. Now hashers have been 86’d, expelled, banned and physically ejected from numerous venues since December of 1938 but never in all those eighty-six years has every Hash everywhere been prohibited from plying our trade.

Now that we have resumed REAL Hashing, let’s proceed with a condensed overview of Trail 1138.

We were instructed to park in an (unauthorized) dirt parking lot beside Roaring Camp Railroad. The designated area was 90% full when Puff and Dicky Wacker arrived prior to 6PM. The situation would soon deteriorate even farther. Many hounds had to park so far away that getting to the start could count as a trail in and of itself. Soon co-hare DungFu Grip would arrive and direct us to an abandoned homeless encampment in nearby woods. The only remnants of this former camp was a half-full ashtray and an exemplary stand of poison oak.

After as many hounds as would brave the near one-hundred degree heat assembled, the hare-pair of DungFu Grip and his accomplice Baker’s Dozen’t were seen off to the side drawing patterns in the dust with their shoes, erasing them and then repeating the process a number of times. Some aspect of trail they had planned bothered them which proceeded to have the same affect on the pack. After settling upon a course of action, they relayed Instructions of Trail. They were so far off the mark I will not waste my time regurgitating them nor your valuable time reading them. They left informing us we would find the first trail marking in the (over-filled unauthorized) parking lot.

After passage of the appropriate lead time, dBASED assembled the crew for introductions. Everyone mumbled in muffled voices fearful of what was to follow. We exited the homeless campground leaving the ashtray behind but would see copious quantities of poison oak again soon. Less than a hundred feet from the first mark in the (over-filled unauthorized) parking lot, hasher down! Hugh Heifer managed to take a tumble due to gravel no larger than a grain of sand. By virtue of the fact it was past the first trail marking, it qualifies as Blood on Trail. This also set the tone for the remainder of trail for Hugh too.

The mob has now invaded the grounds of Roaring Camp Railroad. The pack began to thin out through here. The less stupid among us returned to the start while the more stupid forged ahead, a decision more than a few would come to regret. We passed a wedding reception in progress on the grounds and then took an on-left and began to leave civilization behind. Soon we entered the area where the nuptials had transpired, ignoring the sign requesting us not to do so.   

Civilization safely behind them, the hares began subjecting the pack to the terror and tedium told of in their Instructions of Trail. They warned us of a hill about one mile in but neglected to mention it’s angle of incline or of it’s longevity. We will speak no further of it.

Later, MUCH later, we reached the railroad tracks that would eventually take trains to the top of Bear Mountain. The Turkeys began cross-tie walking while the Eagles proceed to the next hill. We know where the tracks will take the Turkeys, let’s fly with the Eagles and see where they’re led.

Another series of hills, AKA mountains, would take this group to the top of Bear Mountain. 

Was this climb difficult? Well, the only way humans previously were able to attain this height was having to build a damn railroad to get up here. You make the call.

The Eagles left here and began a circuitous path on-down, and sometimes back on-up, as they make their weary way back towards the start. Eventually passing under the railroad trestle spanning the mighty San Lorenzo River, they then reentered Henry Cowell Park and found River Trail. Eventually, these tired pups transitioned to Meadow Trail, passed the Felton Diversion Dam and fish ladder and back to the start. There they discovered Turkeys swilling away and munching on munchies. This further made them question why they undertook the Eagle trail. 

As soon as a trio of DFL Eagles appeared; Just Holly, Under Where? and Puff, dBASED convened Religion. Chippin’ Ballz and dBASED were awarded congratulatory down-down for attending CAN’d H3’s Red Dress Run last weekend; Hugh Heifer was mocked for shedding Blood on Trail one-hundred feet from the start; a series of down-downs were assigned pertaining to missing/not stopping/ignoring Beer Check and the hares were justifiably roasted alive.

On-On-On was staged at Taqueria Vallarta in Felton for the few that had managed to retain enough energy to chew.

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 and editor at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the twentieth day of June in the year of our Hash Two-thousand twenty-one.

On-out,

Puff

the Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3


Trail 947. Too long? Shortcut, follow dBASED

Hello voyeurs,

As if pretending to be a Hash Flash is an insufficient display of devotion to the Hash, our illustrious GM has decided I should fill in for CumFart Zone as Scribe because she’s out of town. She’s also out of her little half-mind but that’s a non-sequitur I guess. So, not only do I have to pull double duty this week, but I’ve been assigned the task of recapping a trail that everyone that hashed it would rather forget. I’d like to forget the two half-mind hares, Shallow Hole and Fap Jack, as well but they keep popping up in my nightmares like two zombies that refuse to die.  Be that as it may…..

Trail began innocuous enough, even pleasantly one may say as we started from recently-opened Santa Adairius on Water Street. This was our first time there and it is a great venue. I just hope I am able to forget what happened after we left here so that my next visit here will not induce an unpleasant flashback to this terrible trail.

After disposing of the hare-pair and all the beer we could swill in the time allotted us, the following hounds circled-up in the parking lot formerly home to the Staff of Life grocery store: Pink Cherry Licker,(more about her later) TIMMY!!, Baker’s Dozen’t, Accuprick, Jizziki,(more on him later) Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), CuntJungle,( a ditty from her later), Dog Breath,(story on him too) Cum You Will Not,(she’ll give us a chuckle too) Cold Smegma Kamakaze(a laughing stock later) dBASED(up to his usual tricks,stay tuned) Testecoil, Just Foot Pussy(late comer) Bacon Queef,(responsibility for a tragedy) and (reluctant) interim Scribe Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

Trail went behind the old Staff of Life building and came to Poplar Street for our first check. Trail was located crossing Water and Soquel, going through the parking lot at the current Staff of Life and down Darwin to a check at Gault Street. The pack then plodded down the locals-only walkway beside the library(that’s an anachronism where books are kept and predates computers) and across Hanover. The next check was discovered at Broadway where, after an unacceptably long distance, trail was discovered on-left on Broadway to another check at Fredrick Street. Here the pack scattered like a billiard ball break and went every which-away. Hound headed towards Fredrick Street park and a few towards Arana Gulch. These losers soon returned upon hearing the on-on on-left on Fredrick and we were not allowed to rest again until reaching Soquel Avenue. We’ve already reached the one mile mark and the hares show no signs whatsoever of allowing us to quench our growing thirst.

We were forced across busy Soquel onto San Juan Avenue. After this point, trail became somewhat convoluted so my memory of it is feeble at best but feeble also echoes trail quality so the exact details are unimportant. We went on-right on Melrose and on-left on Marnell, I think. We hacked along Marnell for an obscene distance and then on-left onto Roxas and one block later an on-left put us back on San Juan Avenue. San Juan was no more fun the second time than it was the first and, as a matter of fact it was even more boring this time. A block later we found ourselves at the intersection with Morrissey

We crossed busy Morrissey and were directed on-left back towards Santa Adairius. Finally! We’re heading for Beer Check and none to soon either I dare say.  Oops! I spoke too soon. A few blocks down Morrissey, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-right onto Hammond followed by an on-right onto Poplar Street just a few blocks from where we viewed the very first check of this trail on-so-many miles ago. We’ve just passed the two mile mark and are STILL heading away from home. This does not bode well. An on-right onto Poplar and we traversed it’s entire length till it ends at Fairmount. Here an on-left was indicated which brought us to a check at Branciforte Avenue.

It was here your (unwilling) replacement Scribe decided to throw the towel in and head home. And so I did. Consequently, from this point forward I will concoct (AKA ‘lie’) as to what transpired on the remainder of this trail.

Trail led the litter on-right on Branciforte and over Highway 1, on-right onto Goss, on-right at the first intersection, Gilbert, and when Gilbert comes to an end one block later, the mob made the necessary on-left onto Rooney Street and proceeded to the abode of co-hare Fap Jack and his lovely wife Pink Cherry Licker.

Now this is where things begin to get good. Number one, Puff is home by this time drinking a beer and cursing our hare-pair. Number two, dBASED’s innate half-mindedness takes over and, worse yet, he plays Pied Pipe of Fools to a number of the pack. Here’s the gory details. Co-hare Fap Jack had announced Religion would be near the start. At some point post-announcement, the site for Religion was moved. To aid an already befuddled bevy, the hares laid trail from Beer Check to Religion which was to be held in the murky triad of churches between Elk Street and Pacheco Avenue where the Quakers, Church of Christ and the Mormons convene.  However….

dBASED, ‘knowing’ where Religion would be better than our hares, chose to ignore the trail markings they’d kindly placed and decided to ‘shortcut’ back to Santa Adairius. With him he took half-minds Jizziki, Cum you Will Not, Cold Smegma Kamikaze and CuntJungle. Once back to Sana Adairius and finding no other hashers, a frantic phone call revealed their foolishness. They then drove to Religion, with the exception of Jizziki and Cum You Will Not whom obviously were embarrassed by their disobeying the club directive: Never follow dBASED!, placed their tails betwixt their hind legs and shagged their arses home skipping Religion.

Back to Puff. I have now finished my beer and called TIMMY!!. TIMMY!! told me where Religion was and to go back to Santa Adairius and someone would retrieve me. I thank Thmp-Thmp for doing so and delivering me to Religion.

Now that dBASED and the prodigal hounds have arrived, it’s time for Religion.

Just Foot Pussy was busted for being a non-runner.  Now we have to deal with Pink Cherry Licker and her wino sidekick, Bacon Queef. Seems that as trail passed within a block of Bacon Queef’s home, she and Pink Cherry Licker ambled on-in for a Gorilla Wine Check. Worse yet, it seems PCL became ‘forgetful’ (Read: Tipsy!) and abandoned our hashit at BQ’s abode. On the upside, this serious lapse in judgement made the awarding of the hashit a cinch this week. Accuprick was treated to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday as he has made it to 65. He doesn’t look a day over 70 either, does he? Cold Smegma Kamikaze was invited to visit with the RA. At one of the checks, he wrote OnOne in big letters. That’s nice of him but there were two glaring deficiencies present. One, he neglected to indicate which direction this valuable piece of information led him and two, worse yet, he was too frggin’ lazy to come back to the check and kick it once solved. Dog Breath, noticing Puff’s absence at Beer Check, thought the Alzheimer’s had kicked in and I was lost on trail so he went back looking for me. Hint: when someone is lost, you will NOT find them on trail. In what was the only good piece of information we received this night, CuntJungle has announced her departure from amongst us is taking place next month. I would request dBASED immediately move her Hash Count to the page for those that have not hashed with us in a year so that I will not have to see her picture when I make my weekly perusal of the Hash Count. On-on-on was…oh, wait. I almost forgot the accursed hares. Shallow Hole and Fap Jack were roundly condemned. They should have been hanged but there was no tree nearby. Okay, back to where I was before being interrupted by the hares. On-on-on was convened at Taqueria Santa Cruz across from the Double-Oh-Seven, a place a few hashers may have gone as well. This signals an end to Trail 947 and, hopefully, to the haring aspirations of Shallow Hole and Fap Jack.

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 thirteenth day of January in the year of our Hash two thousand and eighteen.

On-out,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe,

Surf City H3

 

 

Hash 936: High hills, creepy creeks

Salutations,

Gather round, young pups. It’s time for a throwback Trash. That’s one where hares are harried for hideous happenings on trail and hounds are taken to task for their abundant incompetence.

I will not complicate this Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desire. It is with this motive in mind that I will now recount the events that comprise Trail 936. What follows is a true accounting even if it is not the events that actually occurred.

Teste Coil was being shepherded by Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp on his Virgin Haring. This is a real world example that supports the old adage, ‘The blind leading the blind’.  Admittedly, it would have been worse had dBASED been Teste Coil’s teacher as then not only would trail have been of poor quality but it would also have been too damn long as well. Thank the gods of the Hash for THAT small favor at least.

The start was pleasant enough. A beginning at Beer Thirty is always a wise choice though I have now been forced to the unpleasant conclusion that a good START does not necessarily guarantee a good TRAIL.  Allow me to expand upon that premise.

After being assaulted by another slow-acting poison concoction from the half-mind of Cum You Will Not, the merry members of madness circled-up for introductions and we heard from: Accuprick, Rat Pussy, Deadliest Snatch, Baker’s Dozen’t, Wicked Retahted, Pink Cherry Licker, Stub rub, Summer’s Yeast, Twisted Fister, TIMMY!!!, dBASED, Occasional Rapist, Cuntjungle, Shallow Hole, Twat Did You Say?, Little Anal Annie, Butt Balls, Jizziki, Cum You Will Not, Urine Cider, Dog Breath, Real boring Bitch, Virgin Jesse, Virgin Susanne and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. None of the aforementioned would be happy hounds upon conclusion of the trail of terror.

There was initial confusion at the check just outside Beer Thirty. Not only was this a less-than-auspicious start, but it set the tone for the entirety of trail to follow as well. After feeling our way though this one, the gang galloped up Main Street and discovered a check at the very next intersection, that being the one with East Walnut. The clan coagulated around the check at Lions Park and spread out sniffing for trail. After a false start across Soquel Creek and onto the playground at Soquel Elementary School,(who started us on THAT false trail?), true trail was located on-right and on-up East Walnut Street. (Wasn’t that previously scouted?) Mark turned the troops on-right onto Soquel Drive but a back check mark was discovered 2 blocks later at Capitola Avenue. The gang turned back, well, except for Urine Cider and Virgin Susanne who staggered along a little further before deciding to rejoin us. There was a lot of sniffing that transpired here until some flour was stumbled across blocks back on Center Street. Back checks of this distance are considered rude or, to utilize some rather coarse vernacular, they are known as Prick’s Tricks.

After this conundrum was dispensed with, the pack plodded across busy Soquel Drive continuing on Center Street(which, incidentally, is NOT the center of town) and past the Congregational Church. Hashers move very quickly past a church I’ve noticed and do not look at it either. A block later, the geography of the road dictates a ninety degree on-left onto Bridge Street. The clan crossed Main Street and traipsed onto the bridge over Soquel Creek leading to Paper Mill Road. The BN mark was observed but no one could find it. As it turns out, only ONE hound was to find the goody left for us and that would be dBASED. A bag containing the liquid gold had been suspended over the side of the bridge. However, dBASED slung the bag back over the side of the bridge with such force that the carabiner holding the bag broke and sent the precious liquid plummeting into Soquel Creek. A newspaper article the next morning detailed the California Department of Fish and Wildlife’s discovery of hundreds of intoxicated fish in Soquel, California; cause under investigation. Rumor Central contends dBASED was seen slithering back to the scene of the crime after the hash in hopes of retrieving the bag and it’s contents.

An on-right onto Paper Mill Road yielded an on-left onto Oneil Lane one block later which brought the bevy to Soquel-San Jose Road which all we locals call Old San Jose Road. The gang headed on-right and soon on-left into Anna Jean Cummings Park which is locally called Blue Balls Park due to the huge blue balls that adorn it. (what were they thinkin’?!) It was through here local law enforcement was encountered. Here’s the difference between the County Sheriff’s Department and Capitola cops. It’s after sundown so the park is officially closed. What did the deputy say to us? ‘Ah, there’s run tonight, huh? Have a nice night.’ Off he went. Capitola cop would have at the LEAST run us out if not issued us citations for trespassing.

After struggling with the copious collection of stairs leading on-up to the soccer field, we were greeted by a Liquor Check that has not been destroyed by dBASED and the promised Turkey/Eagle split. We’ll squander some of our evening on the Eagle trail. It went, and I’m certain you can see this one coming, clambering the huge hills behind Soquel High School. After cresting the largest(but of course) of them, we simply fell down the other side and through a small patch of woods, across Soquel Drive, onto Robertson Road, transitioned onto Wharf Road and under Highway 1.

Not far past the Highway 1 undercrossing, the back check mark sent us reeling. After minimal sniffing, flour was discovered along a narrow path beside a private residence and a fence designed to keep people away from Soquel Creek. That fence would probably work for mortals but not hashers. Worse than trespassing, it was now drizzling. The rocks along Soquel Creek were now extremely slick. Almost no one got through here and across the creek without taking on some water. After completing the creek crossing, we invaded a small homeless encampment and emerged into a parking lot a block from the start.

Most of us began to smell an imminent end to this disaster once an on-left was made onto Porter Street. A brief, uncalled for circle jerk onto West Walnut, then Daubenbiss and back onto Porter Street was a fitting culmination to an already pointless outing. Directly across Porter the flock found Beer Check. This was rapidly dispensed with as the area is frequented by local law enforcement.

A short jaunt away is the Heart of Soquel Park and at the very back is a small cul-de-sac walkway perfect for hiding and conducting Religion. Accuprick seized the reins of control as Religious Adviser. Let’s see now. Little Anal Annie was awarded a down-down for yelling at a driver who almost ran her over as she illegally crossed busy Soquel Drive…in the dark. Puff was busted for trying to bribe the Sheriff’s Deputy to give him a lift to the top of the hill in Blue Balls Park. The two Virgins were terrified with Joke, Song or Body Part. dBASED was awarded a punitive down-down for destroying first Liquor Check after he had his fill. Other people were punished too but they did not contribute anything to the overall success of Religion so I’ve forgotten them. The hares were skewered over their trail. I truly believe Trail 936 may garner a nomination as Worst Trail of the Year for AGM next month. It’s a good thing Princess Di(arrhea) is non-compos-mentis because being sane would remove any desire she may harbor to ever hare for Surf City again. As for Thmp-Thmp, I bear him no ill will for his criminal past. I am, however, very concerned with his criminal FUTURE. And as for Teste Coil, I now fear this man may be the missing link between the pirate and the pig. That pretty much does it for Trail 936 and put it exactly where I want it to be: In my rear view mirror.

On-on-on was successfully staged at nearby Village Host Pizza. The crew appreciated the tips but probably did not enjoy cleaning up after we pigs vacated the premises. They were neutral on being serenaded with a hash song.

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-second day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand seventeen.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff the Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

(briefly out of retirement)

 

 

 

Hash 919

Hear Ye, Beer Ye!

Announcing the imminent departure of notoriously e-vile DungFu Grip. DungFu’s last(hopefully) trail for the Surf City kennel will be Thursday, July thirteenth. It should be a FRIDAY the thirteenth though really with DungFu at the helm. Trail niner-one-niner is A to B. Some people may get cold…dBASED. Some will find it difficult to shortcut this trail…dBASED. So remember where you came from so you can get the hell home. Doggies encouraged but nothing with wheels will survive the onslaught of shiggy. Cover your legs appropriately.  Water crossing, graveyard ghoulies, poison oak mostly avoidable. Technu available back at Religion. The start for this Death March will be, appropriately enough, a cemetery. Oakwood Cemetery by name, 3301 Paul Sweet Road. Someone that knows how to put a link in this announcement and cares enough to do so will. Go up Paul Sweet Road and make a sharp left when the road does, otherwise you’ll go on-up to Chaminade. After the left, looks for hashers on your left. Beer, food, beer and transportation available at Beer Check for the lucky/unlucky that actually find it. Upper Crust Pizza is open until 10PM for the rare hound that survives trail.

May the gods of the Hash have mercy on your undeserving, worthless souls,

DungFu Grip

Puff

the Magic Drag Queen