Ahh, such a lovely evening! The solstice super moon was rising, the bay view was gorgeous, and the beers were fresh and cold. Pink Cherry Licker saved the day by running to  Sev-o for more beer when we saw that Hugh Heifer’s trough had run low. Hares Timmy!!! and Puff the Magic Drag Queen gathered us up at UCSC’s West Remote, for the most beautiful view from a school parking lot ever. Not only did we have a great view of the bay, but Rod Lover and Thmp-Thmp also had a great view of the first section of trail for playing reconnaissance. The hare pair dawdled on-on in the direction of the moonrise. Deep Stroke and Pinky swapped a hard lemonade (and herpes) as the pack chugged down their backwash and saddled up.

Rod and Thmp’s un-telligence mission guided us straight into bombing down a hill, crossing Empire Grade and running through a pasture riddled with critter holes, cute cattle and their sloppy ass droppings. We were relieved to blow right by a private property fence, but soon enough had to hop a steel fence onto a trail that looked like fair game. Hugh’s son, Edgar’s Girlfriend, vaulted right over that son of a bitch like it was a pommel horse. He was stuck spending his birthday with his mom, so you can’t blame the kid for wanting to have some fun. The trail got all woodsy as it snaked along parallel to Empire Grade. We came to a creek with only logs to balance beam across. This was totally becoming more of a gymnastics meet than a hash trail.

Deep Stroke and Cumcerto decided the signal for a mountain lion sighting is screams of terror. I was glad I brought my pepper spray for this shit. I asked Deep Stroke to rip it out of my wrist strap and use it if I got attacked. I’m pretty sure she’d actually just stand back and “signal” while I’d get chewed to kitty bits. Trail winded through poison oak. Then through more poison oak and up a steep hill. Just when our radiators were in danger of over heating, we came to liquor check. Fireball whiskey. Just the thing for a pack of panting, red-faced, sweat-stained hounds. Back on trail was more poison oak. Where there wasn’t poison oak, there were mosquitos. Where there weren’t mosquitos, there were ticks.

We finally escaped from the evil oak as trail went through a graffiti-ized storm drain tunnel beneath Empire Grade. It popped out at a concrete box cave entrance, which didn’t look too welcoming. Glad we passed this by, too. Those old hares were really giving us hell. Hills, shiggy, tunnel, p.o., fences, water crossing, caves, cow patties, cows… This trail had every damn thing BUT banana slugs. What is up with that??

Beer check was in a small redwood grove near Porter College. It had twigs and branches woven in a circle around the base of the trees, making a cozy nest. We shot the shit and snacked on a cheese platter courtesy of gentleman hare Puff. Somehow the discussion turned to crime and panty thieves. I nominated Dog Breath most likely to be a panty thief, but Puff quickly confessed to doing that kind of thing in college. Puff: gentleman hare and panty thief. Brokebench Mountain’s dog Porter was weaving through the beer circle like a walking p.o. delivery device. Strong boys rounded up the cooler and the pack headed back to the start location. dBASED reminded us of ranger danger, so we spread out a bit and acted sorta like decent citizens for a change.

Back at the gorgeous view with the bangin’ moon, Accuprick RA’d and Just Trish was beer fairy. dBASED and Occasional Rapist bailed out of religion either to score a free birthday prime rib dinner at Ideal or because they hate us. Whatever. Brokebench was punished for bringing his dog Porter who crapped on a trail that was already covered in crap. Virgin Ciarra (Pinky made her cum) told a joke that was all kinds of WTF?, so she performed a little ditty about birds instead. Virgin Ciarra and Cumz Like a Dog (Sierra) belched in name solidarity. Then Cumz Like a Dog and Dog Breath drank in name solidarity. We celebrated Puff’s 50^th haring, or his “golden shower analversary” as Deep Stroke called it. Timmy!!! drank for missing the Wharf to Barf t-shirt appointment with designer Hogazm and haberdasher Thmp because he was busy beating off at the farmer’s market drum circle downtown.

Suddenly it was down-downus interruptus by real ranger danger. Thmp went off to smooth things over with the po-po and bought us a few more minutes to finish up our wankfest. Accu proclaimed it the Best Trail of the Year and brought the hares up to thank and spank them. Then we got out while the gettin’ was good.  On on on was at burger. I couldn’t make it, but I hope somebody ordered a Luther. It’s a bacon cheeseburger on a donut bun. Did you just drool a li’l bit?

Next hash will be meeting up at Brady’s Yacht Club. Let’s drink a boatload o’ beer! Those are Captain’s orders.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

Perhaps hare Occasional Rapist wanted some fancy-ass beer for her birthday because we met up at one of the places with those douchey tulip-stemmed beer glasses, Sante Adairius Rustic Ales. However, co-hare Cuff My Muff seemed much more excited about getting to use her can of bright orange CalTrans spray chalk than any of their rusty old ales. A group of four young sporty types joined us, kind of looking like they knew what they were doing. Turned out they were just Cross-Fitters. Word soon got around that they were virgins, so we welcomed Virgins Sheena, Shawn, Carly, and Katie to our little hashapalooza. After an “exquisitely fermented ale that is unabashedly aggressive and yet satisfying” and some chalk talk, the whole gang was ready to roll.

Trail led off with a true trail mark through a trailer park. The pack was dumbfounded for awhile at a check at the top of Hill St. We collectively pulled it together and headed downhill towards Capitola and jumped on the railroad tracks next to Depot Inn. On the cliffs overlooking New Brighton Beach was a liquor check with some crappy whiskey. Since we started off with “a tart, complex and delectable beer,” it was hard to choke down this swill. Trail hopped back on the tracks and then onto the asphalt of Park Ave.

Mini-chaos ensued at the corner of Park Ave. and McGregor. We were now crossing into the territory of dBASED’s trail from 2 weeks ago. Today’s hares had already been using trail markings of orange spray chalk, pink flour, white flour, blue chalk, and purple chalk. Throw in markings from 2 weeks ago on top of that and you get one clusterfuck of a trail. To top it off, when we finally did identify trail 691, we soon looped through two mile-long back-to-back circle jerks.

Circle jerk #1 brought Deep Stroke and me to this guy on the sidewalk.  He caught the attention of everyone passing by and was definitely slowing down traffic because some of cars were stopping in the middle of the road expecting to have to join some random turtle rescue effort. I guess everyone likes turtles. Trail turned right at the corner of Park Ave. and Soquel Dr. Then it quickly turned right again and looped allll the way back to Park Ave.

Circle jerk #2 was a jungle adventure. I headed solo into a culvert with a sandy bottom and poison oak lined sides. There was ivy and hanging vines all over. It was some real Indiana Jones shit–booby traps and all. About a quarter mile into the culvert a skunk was pacing in circles, alternating between showing us her stinkeye and her pinkeye. One end was giving us dirty looks and the other end was threatening to spray. Trying to get by was like playing jump rope and waiting for the right moment to dash across without getting lashed by the rope, or in this case splashed with ass juice. This skunk was super pissed off, probably because the hares had already thrown rocks at it trying to get it off their trail. Accuprick came along a few minutes later and we found a trail bailout. Exit stage left! We’d rather be covered in poison oak than skunk spray. Luckily, the bailout was a shortcut to beer check in the common area of Cuff’s condo complex where we were treated to a snack of tasty garlicy tzatziki and some dippers. Word at beer check was that past the skunk, trail went through a 4’ concrete pipe under Soquel Dr. It was dark, cobwebby and tough to squat through. Thmp-Thmp said he went into the pipe sniffing dBASED’s ass like a Labrador and came out looking like a cat from a crawlspace with webs on its whiskers.

Religion was a mile away, back at the brewery. Some lazy bastards drove back or hitched a ride. Cookies, hash dinner and beers were served upon arrival. Accu RA’d and Virgin Sheena was beer fairy. Dung Fu Grip down-downed for bike hashing. We toasted Hugh’s 275^th hash, a few birthday girls, all wankers who were skunkblocked on trail, and Deep Stroke for finishing the AIDS ride even though she decidedly did not win. Pink Cherry Licker was cheered for snaring Cuff and Occasional. Today is Monday was jeered for being scared in the tunnel. Of course at this point in the proceedings the Capitola po-po did a drive by to make their presence known, so we hustled along and let the virgins show us their stuff. All we got were jokes that sucked.

On on on was at burger. Some of us finally tried the Jello Biafra which comes on a donut bun. I say if you’re gonna get a donut bun on your burger, you might as well throw some bacon on it as well. So next time we gotta try the Luther.

Next trail will be meeting up at UCSC’s West Remote parking lot for a shiggyfest. Bring your mountain lion repellant and spelunking gear. I have a feeling they may come in handy.

On on,
Princess Di(arrhea)