Wild times,

Or more precisely feral hares that led us into the wilds in and around Wilder Ranch. Hares Cum You Will Not, who barely escaped being arrested last time we were here, and Baker’s Dozen’t, still smarting from the rebuke of his trail last week, decided taking the troops to a place where they could not easily forsake trail and go to a bar would coerce hounds into hunting them. Well, in that endeavor they were successful. We DID pursue them but our intent was less than friendly after the first mile or two of this terrible trail.

We started this evening standing beside Highway 1, frequently known as Pacific Coast Raceway, attempting to look inconspicuous as the area is frequented by those black and white cars that disapprove of many of our actions. So, the challenges that laid in wait for us on this trail began even before Instructions of Trail were issued. Eventually, Baker’s Dozen’t called for quiet as he detailed what would assail us along this trail. He stood alone as Cum You Will Not saw the handwriting on the wall and wished to begin distancing herself from this trail.

There was a vague reference that Eagles would eventually hash the Turkey trail. While this promise was kept, it certainly came to fruition in a manner most rude. Hares-away.

The next fifteen minutes of our so-called lives was passed socializing and fortifying our mettle to confront this trail. Nothing was SAID about trail although all present felt it weighing down upon our shoulders. Now we know how oxen felt wearing those heavy wooden yokes. As zero hour approached, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: TIMMY!!, Just Foot Pussy, Steamy Baanorrhea, Jersey Lunchbox, Rubik’s Pube, Just John, dBASED, International House of Pussy, Fucked-Over Fest, Chippin’ Ballz, Boneless Shelter and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our four-legged contingency was (illegally) represented only by Scratch and Sniff this week. Pack out.

Trail led the litter back towards Santa Cruz. Many of us wish we had continued along Highway 1 until viewing the sign saying, Welcome to Santa Cruz! But we didn’t being half-minds one and all. Upon reaching the bike undercrossing of Highway 1, things took a turn for the worse.

After successfully, more or less, negotiating the dangerous on-down, the promised Turkey/ Eagle split was encountered. It’s a stellar day, let’s fly with the Eagles. Eagles were turned on-left, under Highway 1 and on-up into the wilder area of Wilder. Soon a hard on-left and on-up was dictated. This is where Steamy Baanorrhea perpetrated a hare snare.

Trail continued on-up until encountering marker that said…

While mocking Baker’s Dozen’t for his cutesy spelling is an obvious option, the sheer fact he made us on-up rather than simply adding some length to trail is inexcusable. Movin’ on…

Mercifully, there was a shortcut (of sorts) that delivered the Eagles back to the split where they took off on the Turkey trail. As in the past, we took off on Old Cove Landing Trail, crossed the railroad tracks and got a stellar view of Wilder Beach. We would then transition onto Ohlone Bluff Trail which (eventually) brought us to Beer Check at Fern Grotto. Mercifully, this area was sheltered from a strong wind coming in off the ocean that portends of the rain promised for this weekend. I feel I should also mention the treacherous on-down to the beach caused by a small trickle of water that runs over the rocks leading on-down. This moisture gives rise to an impressive growth of (extremely) slick algae. I will not embarrass the person who slipped and planted their butt on these rocks, I will only say this person resides in Monterey, California.

After abandoning Beer Check, trail proceeded along the cliff and eventually turned on-right and through someone’s yard who has kindly authorized such an activity. Just as we approached the road leading to the paid parking lot, a Ranger passed by in a truck. By virtue of the fact we were leaving, he opted not to harass us. We hightailed it back to Highway 1 and on-right to where we had abandoned our vehicles. Once the DFL’s straggled in, dBASED fired up his Religion machine.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs, justified or not, issued this night: backsliders were punished, dBASED admitted he has royally screwed-up the Hash Count, Cum You Will Not for sending trail announcement to the wrong email group, Just John for not knowing what a down-down is, (remember Just John did not understand last week’s announcement and went to Religion site rather than the start) Courtesy Flush went for a bike ride rather than Hashing, Chippin’ Ballz for leaving us and moving to a ritzy area north of the Golden Gate, Mr. Wiggly for saying he’s looking forward to 2035 when he will get his 50 Run patch from us. And yes, the hares were brought up and thanked for the scenery and recycling this lousy-ass trail for the umpteenth time. With that, dBASED dismissed the pack and called for reassembly at Upper Crust Pizza. And it was so done and there was much rejoicing.

That drew this Hash to a close and it does so for 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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-10.

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 twentieth day of September in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Retribution,

This is the first word that comes to mind when thinking back on this trail. Pink Cherry Licker, knowing things went tragically awry with her trail last week, attempted to right that wrong employing a previously failed technique: Two wrongs make a right! Again, this was proven false and she now has two strikes against her. Taking advantage of Baker’s Dozen’t as co-hare by drafting him did nothing to improve her status in the Hash. Or HIS for that matter either.

Beginning at Seabright Social, notorious for lackluster service, order a beer rather than some hard stuff and you instantaneously attain second class citizen status. Speaking of poor service, that brings us back around to trail again. The pack assembled outside the designated drinkin’ area. Either we did not wish to be associated with them or they would prefer real customers not to think we frequented this establishment.

We were joined by Sister Mary who has not been here in over twenty years! Too bad she picked THIS trail on which to rejoin us. It may be twenty years till she shows again. Broke Bench Mountain wisely scheduled a presentation for some where just far enough away he’d only be able to make on-on-on. Accuprick left the State. Bailas Con Burros and Banana Basher, who reside a five minute walk away, closed the curtains and turned off the lights to avoid detection. The list of escapees far exceeds that of attendees. Those that DID show were soon to learn why so many did NOT show.

Acceptably late, co-hares Pink Cherry Licker and Baker’s Dozen’t delivered Instructions of Trail. The only promise kept was Liquor Check and Beer Check. Admittedly, those are the only two aspects of trail we care about anyway. Hares-out.

The ensuing fifteen minutes was passed as are they all, imbibing and ignoring; imbibing some beer and ignoring impending trail. Upon completion of those fifteen, GM Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Steamy Baanorrhea, TIMMY!!, Occasional Rapist, dBASED, Sister Mary, Cum You Will Not, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Just Danielle would show only for Religion claiming the instructions were unclear as to where the start actually was. This same fate befell Just John who, in a major case of extreme embarrassment, left prior to the pack arriving at the site for Religion. Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick represented our four-legged contingency. Pack away.

Trail led the litter on-right on the accursed railroad tracks to the locals-only on-right onto Mountain View and a check.

An on-left proved correct here and we weaved our way to East Cliff and the Turkey/Eagle split. It’s too nice to not fly with the Eagles, let’s follow that trail. Eagles crossed East Cliff and went on-down to the railroad trestle and crossed the river and made their way to Beach Street. Beach Street was used all the way to Cliff Street. Gorilla Beer Check at the Surf Bowl, maybe? No such luck. Cliff was taken to it’s apex and then on-down the steps and on-right on Laurel Street Extension. From there, we went under the Riverside Avenue bridge, on-right and over the river and on-right again onto the river levee pathway until it ends. We crossed dangerous East Cliff Drive and traipsed on-up into Ocean View Park, exited onto Ocean View Avenue and on-right onto Ocean View Way, across to Peck Terrace, on-left onto Caledonia . Then it was on-left onto Windham Street and one block later on-right onto Pine Street and past a former abode of Choka-cola and Hairy Potter. This would bring us to the glorious intersection of Cayuga, Pine and Buena Vista, everyone’s favorite five-way cluster.

A check was solved here turning the troops on-left to Windham Street and on-right there all the way to a shortcut on-right onto Glenview Street to Fredrick Street and on-right to Fredrick Street Park. Liquor Check was staged in the bushes at the entrance to the park. This is also where Sister Mary and Puff met two guys who had just spoken with the FRB’s and recognized us as hashers as well. They kept their distance from us. Trail proceeded through the park and took an on-right that leads to the locals-only path the rides the hill between the harbor and the houses fronting on Fredrick Street. This path could use some maintenance!

At the end of the path, stairs took us on-down to the harbor and on-right. This was good until passing by the original location of Aldo’s and onto the jetty where Beer Check was located at the Walton Lighthouse. Upon completion of our appointed task, we sloughed across Seabright Beach to Religion near the Third Avenue stairs. Once reassembled, now with the addition of Just Danielle, dBASED called for Hash Hush and began issuing down-downs.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: Sister Mary was punished as a (20 year) backslider; Danielle was punished as a backslider too; dBASED was labeled a short-cutting cheater; Puff for a false accusation the Hash Count was incorrect and TIMMY!! for failing to snare the hares at the 5 way intersection.

In hopes of making it to Engfer’s Pizza before the curtain fell, we’d already missed Seabright Social, dBASED declared an end to the Hash and I do so for 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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose to not complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind that I recounted the events that comprise Hash Twelve-Oh-9.

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 thirteenth day of September in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with al respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Hot enough for ya?

The only thing that could make you hotter is remembering last Thursday’s trail of terror in the vast unknown of the boundless stretches of wasteland west of Empire Grade and north of Mima Meadow. Lulled into complacency by beginning this potentially deadly trail from West Remote on the UC campus was a ploy employed by the father-daughter hare-pair of TIMMY!! and Pink Cherry Licker. As is typical of Surf City, out innate half-mindedness took precedence over our better judgement and we were as lambs to the slaughter led by our Judas goat hares.

But enough of the highlights of this trail, let us shift into the more unsavory parts.

Standing in plain sight drinking in a parking lot on the UC campus was the mildest of crimes committed this evening. We were joined by a Virgin who stumbled across us on the Internet. He must have been on the website for the Santa Cruz Police Department. Jersey Lunchbox returned from one of his mysterious, frequent trips to places about which he will not be very specific. Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose returned to the pack after attending San Diego Red Dress and completing the requisite Community Service time hashers are required to perform after the Hash. Embarrassed by abandoning Junk Puncher in a dive bar last week, Occasional Rapist made dBASED leave Junk Puncher at home. In essence, a fairly typical prelube.

Wishing this fiasco to be finalized as soon as possible, the hares had promised to on-out ten minutes early. It didn’t happen. They did, however, leave slightly prior to the normal hares-away time. Even having left at the advertised time would not have helped this trail anyway though. Hares-away.

The ensuing fifteen minutes were passed in the usual manner; no discussion of the trail to come. After the passage of that fifteen minute interlude, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Cold Smegma Kamikzae, Rubik’s Pube, Jersey Lunchbox, Steamy Baanorrhea, Accuprick, Virgin John, dBASED, Cum You Will Not, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Just Boulder (illegally) attended for our sole canine companion. Pack out.

Trail proceeded west through the parking lot and on-left on Heller Drive and directly across Empire Grade. Here we were coerced to cross a fence like common burglars. Once into a cow patty covered field, much like a World War II mine field, trail proceeded a short distance along a cow path and our beloved BN symbol was observed. While that was a welcome sight, the back-check-6 at Beer Check was not overly enjoyed. Upon completing our task here, the back-six brought us to another fence designed to contain the cattle that we had to scale risking life and limb.

Once everyone clambered over and remained intact, an extended on-down was initiated. There’s little we dislike more than a huge on-down at the beginning because that will necessitate an on-up of an equal or larger height at the END of trail. Thanks, hares.

Eventually we came to the Liquor Check and the Turkey/Eagle split on the Red Mailbox Trail. It would be treasonous to avoid an extended visit to a Redwood forest, let’s fly with the Eagles. However, as we were soon to learn, Eagles would not FLY this evening, they would climb and sometimes as slowly as the locals, banana slugs. A monstrous hill on-right from Liquor Check awaited the Eagles. Worse yet, it continued for an extended period of time eventually flattening out. By this time though, we were deep in mountain bike territory and we were forced off trail a number of times to avoid careening bikers. Soon, but not soon enough, we emerged from the forest into a field and made an on-left.

Once across this field, we reentered the forest primeval and another serious on-down was presented to us. Soon the Eagles rejoined the Turkeys and continued on-down. We may have been on the Wally World Trail, maps are somewhat inconsistent and it also did not bother our hares to take us places we shouldn’t have been taken. Eventually we performed a hundred and eight degree turn followed by another on-down. This may have been the Long Meadow Trail and it eventually brought us to a small creek.

Once across this stream, an on-right began a serious on-up which would bring us to the original field where we started albeit quite a distance away. Beer Check was repeated in it’s previous location and then an extended on-in was undertaken back to Point A. Once there, besides interrupting an astronomic session of a UC student camping in the field we chose for Religion, Accuprick fired up his machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: the Virgin was welcomed; Analversaries were celebrated; those sniffed and licked by Boulder were mocked and this gave rise to Boulder receiving his hash name: Scratch and Sniff. It seems Boulder adopted Junk Puncher’s tactic of easily identifying his kennel mates by the scent of their crotch area. Also, I would like to commit to our official collective memory an explanation of the analversary celebrated. This may have happened elsewhere but I would believe it to be a rare occurrence; a father/daughter co-hare analversary. This was TIMMY!!’s 69th haring and for his lovely daughter it was Pink Cherry Licker’s 75th outing as a hare. Let it so be recorded. Many of you are now thinking, What about the hares? Did they not receive a down-down for shitty trail? Yes, they did, I just wished to postpone our visit with them as long as possible. There were some compliments issued about touring a Redwood forest but I heard not a word about trail quality.(or the lack thereof)

We had already missed burger for on-on-on so Accuprick hastened to dismiss the pack and reassemble at Parish Publick House. I will now dismiss you from 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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-Oh-8.

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 seventh day of September in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Salutations,

I’d rather begin this Trash with a (pointless) discussion of our weather than a recap of the dastardly deed done the drove last Thursday. Faithful harriettes Cum You Will Not and Chippin’ Ballz, with almost 375 hashes having passed beneath their rear paws, are two of our most ardent hashers. Sadly, all this experience has not translated in making them efficient hares. I realize this is an assertion both bold and cold but one I intend to support before declaring an end to this Trash.

A good starting point is always to start at the start so that is where I shall start. The Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon. This place lives down to it’s name right down to the swinging saloon doors giving access to a small, dark room full of enough Western memorabilia to make Wyatt Earp reach for his six-shooter and a bottle of Red Eye Whiskey. From viewing the clientele, one would assume the name was chosen to reflect the facade of those that inhabit it: over-the-hill. The denizens that frequent this watering hole are both over-the-hill as well as having been put-out-to-pasture decades ago. And so here we are in a place where it would take any two hashers to equal the age of ONE of the locals. Well, with the obvious exception of TIMMY!! that is. The pack stuck mostly to the outdoor drinkin’ area as the people inside did not appear to be especially welcoming of us and we were branded as interlopers. The taco truck next door was a big draw even though adding additional weight prior to hashing is discouraged. Only beer should be added to your being prior to on-out.

Only slightly behind schedule, hare-pair Cum You Will Not and Chippin’ Ballz delivered Instructions of Trail. There appeared to be some confusion as to exactly what their trail would encompass and exactly how long it would be. This led to much laughter on the hares’ part but little mirth was felt by the pack. Hares away.

The passage of the fifteen minute lead time passed uneventfully. The only pleasure felt was in the consumption of our beers and impending trail was not discussed at all. With both GM’s having wisely skipped this sad session, dBASED called for on-out deleting the usual Circleup for Introductions claiming we all knew each other quite well by this stage in our lives. Pack out.

Little enthusiasm was shown for rapid movement as the mongrels motivated east along Portola Drive until encountering a check at the intersection with 40th Avenue. TIMMY!! threw caution to the wind and hot-footed it across Portola and soon sounded on-on on 40th. 40th actually comes to an abrupt end but this did not deter our hare-pair as they utilized a business sidewalk and parking lot to take the troops to 41st Avenue. The wiser amongst us cross Portola at a marked pedestrian crossing and came on-up 41st that way. We were soon directed across 41st and at the next intersection, that with Bain Avenue, the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. It’s a beautiful evening here in Pleasure Point, let’s fly with the Eagles.

Trail proceeded north on 41st past the accursed railroad tracks and then took an on-right into a business driveway, behind a group of businesses and across two parking lots to deliver us onto Jade Street and on-right once there. By virtue of the fact only dBASED and Puff were the only ones foolhardy enough to take on the Eagle trail, things began to get a little shaky along this section of trail. Here’s the best reconstruction my feeble brain can conjure.

A Whichy-Way at 42nd and on-left onto 42nd proved correct. This was followed by an on-right onto Diamond Street which brought us to 45th Avenue, on-left and to a check at Capitola Road. The check here was solved pointing us on-right onto Capitola Road. Two blocks later a hare arrow turned us on-right onto 49th Avenue. We are now deep in the Jewel Box area of Capitola. One block later an arrow led on-left onto Emerald Street. When Emerald ends at Prospect Avenue, an arrow turned us on-right. Prospect was taken until it emerges overlooking the Capitola wharf and Monterey Bay.

We crossed Cliff Drive heading on-right and rejoined the Turkeys at Opal Cliff Drive and proceeded along Opal Cliff until seeing the BN mark and making the on-left on-down to Privates beach. Upon completion of our task here, we began following trail continuing on-left on Opal Cliff Drive towards 41st Avenue. Banana Basher and Puff saw no point in continuing with this fiasco so we shortcut back to the site for Religion which gave us a ten minute advantage on the rest of the pack and our pick of the available ales.

Once the DFL’s arrived(that’s the entire pack except for Banana Basher and Puff), Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker started up Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Snapping Twat, who only showed for Religion, was punished as a backslider; dBASED, in the most criminal act he has performed in years, was punished for leaving the start with Junk Puncher still tied to a bar stool, Occasional Rapist had to call his attention to this horrendous oversight; Banana Basher was awarded a congratulatory down-down for actually completing all of trail; Bailas Con Burros joined Banana as it was she who coerced him into doing the entirety of trail; Mr. Wiggly celebrated his 25th hash with us. And the hares…they were informed Beer Check was nice but no mention was made of trail. Next week’s hare-pair, TIMMY!! and (only known) offspring Pink Cherry Licker announced Hash Twelve-Oh-8 would begin from West Remote up on the UC campus. With that, PCL declared a close to this Hash and I do so for this Trash as well.

It was a pleasantly short Religion thereby allowing much of the herd to migrate back to the Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon and catch Just Paulie’s last set. Most Excellent!

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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-Oh-7.

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 thirty-first day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

The village referred to is Aptos Village.

Co-hares Accuprick and Just Sam believed starting us from Parish Publick House in charming Aptos Village would placate the pride and eliminate feelings of animosity that would be engendered by their terrible trail. While I can certainly not speak for everyone that hashed, I CAN say I heard from no one who enjoyed this trail.

Let’s critique this lackluster outing, shall we?

Admittedly, Parish Publick House is an excellent location. It has a good beer selection, good food and great ambience. Did I mention a good beer selection as well? The clan calmly commandeered the upper level which was far less crowded than the lower one and featured a bar close by as well. This led to numerous beers being guzzled by numerous hashers. While this is indicative of happy HOUNDS, it is not necessarily indicative of how successful the HARES will be with their trail effort. And this trail proved the perfect example.

Co-hare Accuprick stood at the top of the stairs and delivered Instructions of Trail to those that remained on the bargain basement level of the place. He then turned to those on the upper level and spit-out a somewhat different set of details. This either means Accuprick’s memory is extremely challenged or he was hedging his bets so that when trail was deemed a failure, he could say, I TOLD you about that! when in actuality he’d only told HALF of us while the other half remained uninformed and consequently stumbled into the trap he set. Hares out.

The next fifteen minutes passed uneventfully, TIMMY!! did not even break one single glass. We had a Virgin-of-sorts. He had hashed once before in a place far, far away and said no Chalk Talk would be required. He also admitted to being a racist and stated he’d be the first to finish trail. He vanished soon after on-out never to be seen or heard from again.

Upon the completion of the allotted lead time, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responding yelps from: Occasional Rapist, Banana Basher, Bailas Con Burros, Baker’s Dozen’t, Bareback Unicrack, dBASED, Steamy Baanorrhea, Boneless Shelter, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, TIMMY!!, Clearly Not A Hooker, Courtesy Flush, Cum You Will Not, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Virgin John, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged contingency was Boulder, Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick. Pack away.

The first section of trail proved both easy and well-marked. Trail took the troops on-down the road leading on-down into Aptos Village Park to a check. Trail continued on-down into the park and on-left across the field towards Aptos Creek. This is where the evening’s first cock-up occurred and it was a rather large one too. Somehow, the FRB’s managed to miss a check and saw marker at the bottom of a hill on the edge of the park. The pack immediately converged on this mark and proceeded along. Soon though, the FRB’s returned saying they’d found false markings but the last check we were aware of was far, far behind us. We chose to ignore this inconsistency and proceeded to the parking lot after finding more marker. This eventually led the litter to the banks of Aptos Creek but went nowhere from there. We were stymied.

Eventually, on-on was sounded up a small hill and on-right onto Village Creek Road which soon placed our paws on Aptos Creek Road. An on-left here pointed the pod to an on-right onto Granite Way and on-down through the new subdivision to an on-right onto Cathedral Drive. When Cathedral intersects with Trout Gulch Road, a check was encountered. Those not familiar with the geography here turned on-left. That leads to places no sane person would ever wish to venture.

Trout Gulch took us to an on-left on Valencia Street. Valencia dictates an on-right onto Bernal Street which ends at Aptos Street and also with a check. This is when the hares became somewhat vindictive. Trail was eventually located proceeding across Aptos Street and on-up onto the tracks and on-left. This led to the treacherous crossing of Soquel Drive, Aptos Creek and Highway 1 on long-abandoned and unmaintained trail trestles. Planks, the ones not missing that is, vibrate beneath your feet when stepped on and metal grating sags under your weight. Gravel is unstable and rotted cross ties crumble as you tread upon them. This was deemed a No Fun Zone.

After the survivors completed this crossing, a check yielded an on-left onto Sandalwood Drive. This was followed by an on-right onto Beach Pines Drive to a check at Rio Del Mar Boulevard where an on-right proved the correct direction. After crossing above the tracks, an on-right onto Aptos Beach Drive was chosen. The next on-right, Carrera Circle, was indicated and the steep on-down thereof was undertaken. The gang arrived at the circle section of Carrera Circle but that did not deter this e-vile hare-pair. By skirting the barrier and infringing onto a private road one can continue along then being on Moosehead Drive. (who said ‘head’?) Thus began a half-mile jaunt along Moosehead terminated by an on-right onto Creek Drive. The terminus of this street meant nothing to our hares as trail continued into a field and soon an on-right began an on-up to Seacliff Drive with an elevation gain of almost a hundred feet. Seacliff Drive was utilized until nearing Santa Cruz Avenue where our highly coveted BN mark was seen and an on-left onto Santa Cruz Avenue found our hares lounging around a cooler sucking down beers.

After concluding our business here, co-hare Accuprick proceeded to lay the on-in trail. This actually proved to be one of the longer sections of trail, almost three-quarters of a mile long. We traipsed along State Park Drive to the railroad tracks (again) and proceeded on-right all the way back to the start where Religion was held on the tracks behind Parish Publick house.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued by RA Accuprick this evening: Just Sam for her Virgin haring; Boneless Shelter for explaining the intricate workings of a clit tickler; TIMMY!! awarded the Hashit; non-runners were punished; Courtesy Flush for watching the sun go down…while standing in a patch of poison oak. Oh. I almost forgot the hares, maybe I WANTED to forget the hares. They were thanked for starting at Parish Publick House but no mention was made of trail. Sensing a potential lynching, co-hare and RA Accuprick hastily declared an end to this Hash. 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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

A Scribe’s sole purpose is to provide entertainment to their kennel mates. Whether or not they are successful in this endeavor remains a subject open to debate.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-oh-6.

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-third day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Go West, young man,

The slogan popularized by Horace Greeley. I’m certain Mr. Greeley did NOT mean, Go to Mission West. That is, however, exactly where hare-pair Steamy Baanorrhea and Leaky Rubber directed US on the evening of August the eleventh. Foolishly, we did as requested. I trust we shan’t make the same error in the future.

Those of you that go back to the Ye Olde Watering Hole days will agree the environs of this establishment have been radically altered since the ownership change. A few of you may even go back to the Paul’s Place era and can tell of an even greater metamorphosis. Sadly, one aspect that has not changed is the clientele that get their feet caught in the bar rail on a daily basis. For this reason, the pack assembled in the relative safety of the outdoor drinkin’ area.

The pack assembly process is always intriguing. Hashers are always jockeying for position within each clique, sometimes to participate, other times simply to glean gossip or eavesdrop. I have found it safest to observe these antics from afar thus avoiding becoming an object of ridicule or the butt of too many jokes. Speaking of jokes, that brings to mind the evening’s hare-pair, Steamy Baanorrhea and Leaky Rubber. Steamy has already begun backing away from this trail by claiming he’s only co-haring to make sure Leaky doesn’t perpetrate any major cock-ups. Or should that be ‘penetrate’? I believe Steamy does not completely trust Leaky to not do something extremely rude. Just for the record book, most of us have the same sentiments toward Steamy. This may a case of the fox guarding the hen house.

Only somewhat behind schedule the hares called for attention. They received very little. They made the Surf City standard issue pack of lies claiming trail was short, fast and flat. Sounds like some of the girlfriends dBASED conspired with prior to his (second) marriage. There would be a Liquor Check as well as the standard Beer Check. As usual it was difficult to separate the blatant lies from the promises that would simply go unfulfilled. That’s the major reason I’ve always considered Instructions of Trail more for entertainment than information. Hares-out.

The next 15 minutes were passed as usual, fierce socializing and attempting to ignore the treachery and terror that awaited us. The time did, however, pass and upon reaching the expiration date, a Circleup for Introductions was called for by co-GM Broke Bench Mountain. His request yielded yelps from the following hounds: Dung-Fu Grip, Carlos Danger, Occasional Rapist, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Just Breanna, dBASED, Hareless, Accuprick, Boneless Shelter, Virgin Kennan, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Twisted Fister, Virgin Bonnie and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our canine contingency was Boulder and Junk Puncher. Pack away.

A check was encountered just out of sight from the start. Hounds high-tailed it in all directions sniffing for trail. Nothing was heard until Just Breanna eventually sounded on-on on-left on McPherson and on the corner with Fair another check was observed. Here it was on-right to the Rail Trail where we were pointed on-left and crossed Fair Avenue and Almar Avenue before arriving at a check at Rankin Street. Trail was located on-right on Rankin followed by an on-right onto Walk Circle and then on-left onto Naglee Avenue which brought the gang to Woodrow Avenue.

Some serious sniffing at Woodrow yielded an on-left to the innermost of the Circles, Errett Circle, and then an exit via California Street followed by an on-left onto Dufour Street. Dufour was used until an on-right onto Seaside Street was indicated. Thus began a rather long, not to mention boring, stretch of asphalt that did not yield to another street until Laurent Street. Seaside (finally ) ends at Laurent which prompted an on-left to Mission Street and on-right there. Mercifully we did not spend much time on Mission and took the next on-left onto Van Ness Avenue which took us to King Street and an on-left was followed by a quick on-right onto Laurent Street. A cluster of harriettes huddled at Laurent and Escalona gawking at the Laurent Street hill, the majority of which is shielded by an on-right curve partway on-up. However, the part they COULD see was more than enough to make them decide there was no reason good enough to have them undertake cresting the crest so they turned on-right secure in the knowledge that what goes UP must (eventually) come DOWN. The RA will deal with these laggards during Religion I imagine.

I see EVERY reason to tackle this section of trail, let’s on-up. I gladly admit it was strenuous though. Once finally making the top, trail turned on-left onto Majors Street and soon after the LC mark was observed and we strode into the abode of Leaky Rubber. Here Leaky was handing out chocolate pudding shots containing leftover bottles of liquor he no longer wished to consume. As if chocolate itself is not sweet enough, Bailey’s constituted one of the additives to the pudding. After those 2 ingredients are combined, it doesn’t really matter what other poison you add, it’s overpowered by those first 2 ingredients anyway. We staggered on-out.

An on-left onto Allegro Drive was followed soon by an on-right onto Moore Street. One block later was an on-left onto Fridley Drive. Fridley ends at Iowa Drive where we went on-left which brought us to Bay Drive. Halfway across Bay we were turned on-left and on-down the Bay Walkway. This is a scenic and safe to way to navigate Bay until the pathway ends at Escalona Drive where we were turned on-right to begin another long, boring stretch all the way to an on-left on Mesa Lane and one block later on-right onto King Street. King comes to Mission Street almost directly across from Mission West where this fiasco began almost exactly 4 miles ago for the Eagles. To put a little distance between ourselves and the bar’s liquor license, we moved to the parking lot next door. Once settled in, RA Accuprick got things rolling.

Here’s a sampling of the down-downs he issued this night: Backsliders were busted; analversaries were celebrated; Virgins were welcomed; those that missed Liquor Check were punished; co-hare manning Liquor Check that did not see everyone that was there. Yep, the hares were chided lastly. After dealing with the hares, the RA declared and end to this 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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind that I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-Oh-5.

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 sixteenth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City He Scribe