Salutations,

       Many of us (foolishly) assumed a visit to Seascape Golf Course Clubhouse would be a pleasant experience. We have not visited here in quite a while and previous times here have been enjoyable. What I failed to take into consideration is our hare-trio(in itself a red flag) consisted of Cum You Will Not(and I assure you no one did), dBASED(nothing need be said about THIS joker!) and his (second) wife Occasional Rapist. So, in all actuality, we were doomed to failure even before on-out.

       Let’s ignore the fact we already know this will be an unpleasant evening and move along posthaste.

The first indication things were destined to go awry was the card authorization reader at the bar was non-functioning. Now while this proved monetarily beneficial to some hashers….Deer Bitch….those few of us carrying coin of the realm were milked of every penny possible to compensate for kennel mates that CLAIMED they carried no coin. The party soon migrated to the deck where a number of golfers were ensconced on what is colloquially referred to as ‘the nineteenth hole’. They appeared somewhat wary of us and we were mostly dismissive of them

 

       With both GM’s in absentia, Accuprick called for Circleup for Introductions and the pack then on-outed to Clubhouse Drive where an on-right was indicated. Clubhouse was utilized until a solved check turned the troops on-left onto Pinehurst Drive. Marker soon made us on-left onto Rio Del Mar Elementary School grounds, a well-known no-no, which of course means nothing to our e-vile hares. Having transgressed here before, we were certain we would cross the playground and again challenge the hill-from-hell that provides the backdrop to all the surrounding area. And we did. And there was no rejoicing.

Eventually we crested the crest and beheld the land laid low below us all the way to Santa Cruz.

We puttered along the ridgeline for a while before descending on-down to Dolphin Drive and executing an on-right. Pebble Beach Drive presented the threatened Turkey/Eagle split. Cold Smegma Kamikaze and visitor Deer Bitch either missed said split or are foolish enough to try it. Let’s fly with the Eagles and see what horrors befall them.

Trail became a dark and dreary grouping of on-lefts and on-rights. The Eagles came back to Clubhouse Drive and (incorrectly) thought they were close to Beer Check. This soon proved to be a false belief. An on-left onto Clubhouse was abruptly followed by an on-right onto the short link of Baltusrol Way and an immediate on-right on Baltusrol Drive. 

Baltusrol Drive wiggles it’s way to St. Andrews Drive where an on-right was indicated which soon brought the pod back to Clubhouse Drive. Here an on-left was made. If you walked on the roadside, you followed Eagle trail. If you crossed Clubhouse to the safety of the sidewalk, within a few blocks you would be hashing the on-out trail in reverse. This is a ploy that can be carried-off in the darkness and leave it to dBASED to employ all manner of chicanery available.  

Just prior to reaching Point A, the BN sign was observed and the pack reassembled for Beer Check.

After libations were dispensed with, the mob migrated back to the start and Religion was convened. Religious Adviser Accuprick awarded the following down-downs: Deer Bitch as a visitor, one to himself as a short-cutting bastard, Six of Nine for only being able to show snout for Religion, Dicky Wacker for completing a trail WITHOUT falling. Oh, yeah, the accursed hare-trio were roundly cursed as well.

The RA called an end to Hash 1156 and dismissed the pack. Many members of this merry madness reconvened at Parish Publick House in Aptos to party well into the night.

That did it for this Hash and that does it 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.

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

On-out,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe Surf City H3

September salutations,

      And September is soon to be history and forgotten. Hopefully, Trail 1155 will join September in the ranks of the forgotten, consigned to the scrap heap, a distant nightmare.

       While it is still fresh in our memory, let’s make a record of it’s misdeeds and missteps in the hope they will never be repeated.

       A last minute change of venue never bodes well. This was due, according to Rumor Control, by a employee-owner dispute at the original location. Also rumored was that wait staff refused to deal with hashers but the owner wanted the money. Admittedly, that latter part is sheer conjecture on my part but that does not mean it’s incorrect.

       So, on to the new venue and it’s minuscule outdoor drinkin’ arena.

If everyone in the club was the size of Banana Basher, His Bulkiness, we would not have been able to get everyone outdoors. Well, maybe we could have but the balcony would surely have collapsed under our combined weight.

We had one visitor, Keys To Your Anus, invading our little burg from Las Vegas. (How could she even have FOUND Santa Cruz?)

We also had a new addition, Leaky Rubber. I didn’t ask if that was the nickname his Mother gave him.

After co-hares Pink Cherry Licker, Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp vanished into the Capitola fog, co-GM Baker’s Dozen’t called for Circleup for Introductions and answering yips were heard from: Dicky Wacker, TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Wicked Retahted, Testacoil, Broke Bench Mountain, Cumz Out My Nose, Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, Keys To Your Anus, Leaky Rubber, Cum You Will Not, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

Trail began pleasantly enough with a jaunt along the Esplanade followed by an on-right off Monterey to the long staircase leading on-up to Depot Hill. Only the FRB’s were screwed by this as it proved false and trail returned to Monterey Avenue. However, 100 feet further and we were motivated to take an on-right onto a locals-only path that took the troops right back atop Depot Hill. Very crafty. Rude, but crafty nonetheless. We then went on Fairview Avenue to Central Avenue which brought us back to Monterey Avenue. We’ve now traversed half a mile and are still within sight of where we started. Is our hare-trio, crafty, devious or just lazy bastards? You make the call.

A check was solved here leading the litter onto the railroad tracks and proceeding towards the trestle towering over Soquel Creek. Just prior to the trestle, marker pointed the pod down a dirt embankment and into the parking lot behind the Capitola Police Department. This must be some kind of a joke! Sending the hounds to the local Hound Pound?!? Joke maybe but not very damn funny. We denizens scurried across Capitola Avenue, onto Riverview Drive and soon on-left onto Riverview Avenue. (Not especially inventive with their street names around here, are they?)

Not far along Riverview Avenue, a locals-only path on-right presented itself which leads to Soquel Creek Park Footpath which ends at Stockton Street where an on-right was indicated taking us across Soquel Creek to Soquel Creek Park where the LC sign was beheld. Once in this narrow, dark park we encountered members of the hare contingency issuing urine-sample-sized cups with an obnoxious liquid contained within.

  Pulling away from the park, trail took a turn on-up Wharf Road to Capitola Road and on-right onto 49th Avenue. This brought up back to Wharf Road. Circlejerks seem to be a recurring theme on this trail. We soon turned on-left onto Grace Street, on-left onto 46th Avenue and then violated private property by slithering through a large apartment complex and eventually emerging back into civilization. Eventually we wound our way back to Capitola Road and crossed over onto 45th Avenue which was utilized all the way to Jade Street Park. We crossed the entire width of the park and arrived at the railroad tracks where Beer Check was convened.

 
We would now traipse along the railroad tracks to a secluded area near the trestle for Religion. This would clock the pack in at around 2.5 miles…except for the poor bastards that fell for the numerous falses, back checks and circlejerks.

Religious Adviser dBASED issued the following down-downs: Testacoil as a backslider, visitors were recognized and welcomed, Broke Bench Mountain celebrated his 425th hash with us and, of course, the hare-trio was roundly criticized.

It was determined this was just about enough half-mindedness for one week and the RA dismissed the pack. That just about does it for this Hash Trash as well.

The precedding 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.

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 thirtieth day of September, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe Surf City H3

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.

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

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