Society’s Best Efforts

Despite the much depleted pack (Eunuch, Mango Groove, BJ and Geriatric all out of town, QT and No Rough Stuff unable to make it) more than a dozen hashers turned out for Stingray’s short, flat run around Ping Yeung, numbers that a decade ago, when packs of half a dozen were common, would have been hailed as handsome. And indeed it was a memorable night – but not for the reasons expected.

We were greeted with the sight of a wrapped pagoda, sheathed in tarpaulin by One Eyed Jack, who has plenty of experience in mega-managing dodgy structures. Inside, Penile Dementia was fiddling with sausages, while behind the edifice Catch Of The Day was doing her favourite thing, building a fire. Penile’s previous warning that we shouldn’t use this “village people” pagoda didn’t seem ominous in the slightest.

And so the first instalment of hashers set off (some were still looking for the start) down the hill to Ping Yeung and on to a track through vegetation. Gaelle Says No showed a clean pair of heels to the pack and was not seen again until the finish. The rest of us, meanwhile, followed a convoluted trail through agriculture and villages on concrete and dirt paths, with the frequent checks bringing the pack together time and again like a conked-out accordion. And of course there were the “hilarious” Stingray touches – like the bit where Golden Jelly, Velcro Lips and myself followed trail all the way around a huge grave and back to where we started.

Halfway point was Ping Che Road, which we followed for a short stretch before trail led off into agriculture again. Radio 1 was particularly nervous of the many hare-eyed jittery dogs and sprinted with a sort of yelp to the nearest man whenever a canine looked vaguely in her direction. Velcro Lips on the other hand quelled them with the power of the Hartlepool accent. Aiden, One Eyed Jack and Creme Brulee swapped the lead until going wrong in the final section, a traverse of a maze of pig trails through tall grass, where Golden Balls was the first to find his way up the bank to the pagoda to find…

…cops and cop cars everywhere, the whole pagoda awash with water from a Fire Services hosepipe, a fire engine, irate villagers with their dogs (bizarrely with glowing collars), a defiant Catch Of The Day standing over the drowned fire arguing the toss with the lead cop, Stingray grinning inanely and making up cockney-philosophy, and Penile Dementia doggedly turning the sausages on the barbecue while ignoring the pandemonium surrounding him.

Velcro Lips, hot on GB’s tail, took one look at the scene and sensibly fled into the night. Lead cop was demanding the place be cleaned up, so clean it up we did (but not before COTD had asked to record the cops’ demand to return the glowing logs to the bush, where they’d cause a fire) and the paramilitary and village enforcers finally left us to our sausages, baguettes, mulled wine and other devices.

Chief among these being the “game”. We were split into teams (late arrivals Liberace, Serbian Bomber and Back To The Future having joined by this time) based on our finishing positions, with Team A wearing hats made from Asahi crates and Team B wearing hats made from Tsingtao crates. We then had to take it in turns to do what the GM called “butt writing”, which entailed writing a word with – yes – your butt. Team A ran out easy winners with Creme Brulee particularly prescient in determining letters carved in air by oscillating bottoms. Team A walked off with chocolate lunar new year ornaments while Team B got calligraphy, which Liberace interpreted for us in his inimitable way. Who could have guessed that classic Chinese New Year calligraphy was so loaded with innuendo?

Then it was Learning With Libs, where the professor of Chinglish explained that 1900 actually meant bukkake (19 = sup gau = moist dooda and you can guess the rest). The mulled wine disappeared and not a sausage remained as we drove off leaving the evening’s architects sitting amidst the smouldering ruins of their nemesis: the village people’s pagoda.

Actually we left it in better shape than we found it – as always – and proved that despite society’s best efforts there’s no stopping the Northern!  – Golden Balls

Hare Stingray

Runners Gaelle Says No, Golden Balls, Radio 1, Serbian Bomber, Golden Jelly, One Eyed Jack, Liberace, Aiden, Velcro Lips, Creme Brulee

Non-runners Catch Of The Day, Penile Dementia, Luk Sup Gow

Radio No Silence

Vibrate is the hare.

7:30 is start time for Fish of the Day, Fat Student, Stem Degeneration, Friction Lip.

7:38 is start time for Hazelnut, Monocular, Succulent, Aton, Hitting Doll, Ghost Fish, Radio 1.

8:10 Golden Ball, No Rough Stuff start.

I started to turn right into the village for a few minutes. I saw Fish of the Day, Fat Student. I thought it was CHECK. In fact we need to climb a big water pipe and then turn up the mountain road. I thought how would Fish of the Day would go up, but I saw the group of boys climbed without considering. Go up, I am only dead and afraid of getting lost!

After going up the mountain, I first saw the Friction Lip and followed the Stem Degeneration all the way up into a fine bamboo forest. After passing through it, I saw the street lamp on the right side of the hillside at Mui Tsz Lam Road. Everyone thought that TRIAL should be right.

The first CHECK, the Stem Degenerates straight to the right, TRIAL DOWN, TRIAL DOWN, “T”!

I went back up the mountain and went up a hill. I heard the Hazelnut yelling at CHECK BACK. After turning back and running, I saw Libale cut right ONON up the mountain and reached the top of the mountain to see Aton at CHECK. I was in the direction of Libale. Right, Aton left to forest, and soon heard TRIAL, Once again, it proves that HASH can never be cut with Libale. It must be wrong! When you turn back to the mountain, you can see the Succulent, the Monocular, and the Ghost Fish will join the forest. Soon you will fall into a dangerous path.

Next, I was so shocked that I would hold the tree and the grass together. The Monocular and the Succulent were hitting CRASH respectively. We turned into the ditch for about 50 metres and could not find the TRIAL fold and saw Libale, and then entered the bamboo forest. The trails are all roots, and the Monocular is not interesting. Finally they asked me not to go fast because their headlights and flashlights are not enough! Until the diversion channel runs back to the starting point along the road. – Radio 1

Hare Vibrator

Runners No Rough Stuff, Golden Balls, Radio 1, Stingray, Crash Test Dummy, Aiden, QT, One Eyed Jack, Mango Groove, Velcro Lips, Penile Dementia, Bunter, Catch Of The Day

1898 and all that

What would be your worst nightmare? Being hare for a Northern New Territories Hash Saturday run, setting a good run, providing sausages and 21 year whiskey, but for nobody to turn up. This is what actually happened to Penile Dementia….poor bloke!!

But the demented one thought the run was at 2 pm and after waiting for almost an hour of nobody turning up, GM Catch Of The Day was the first one to arrive. She had to console the broken Penile, in tears and suicidal, bringing him out of his nightmare. What a plonker or has the dementia started to move upwards?

Anyway there was a turnout of 13 hashers at this first N2TH3 Saturday run of 2019 and even visiting hasher Bondi Barbie together with his collection of knives and choppers after lurking around Tai Mo Shan all morning with them….uhmmm. This is where the start of the run was and COTD gave an extra briefing after the hare’s usual run brief by saying the first 5 persons to finish the run were in Team A and the last 5 persons was in Team B for a competition after the circle as this was run 1898, which is the same year the British took the NT under a 99 years lease.

The run went along the MacLehose trail west of Route Twisk and at the first check, trail was called on the road section only to end up at a T and back to the check and left into Twisk nature trails It was thereafter into nice Tai Mo Shan trails with a couple of Ts keeping the pack well together until the last stretch of the MacLehose road back to the start. As I ran down with Radio One onto an intersection, a load of marshals were shouting at us “ are you competing runners” because this was a stop for the Tai Mo Shan 160 km Ultra race, see we don’t look decrepit at all, fit in easily with those ultra-marathon runners.

Circle was valiantly held by COTD, who was facing severe food poisoning from eating sushi the night before in Kowloon City and even compered the 1898 games. BRAVO and what dedication. Too many downs downs to remember from all the N2TH3 mismanagement (GM, GM2, RA and RA2). The games started with Team A (GB, Dram, Penile, Radio 1, Bondi and Stunt Double) Vs Team B (One Eyed Jack, Stingray, Geriatric, Hoover, BJ and Electrolux). All questions was cleverly related in some ways to 1898 i.e. 1+ 8 x 9 – 8 =?, Who was the emperor of China in 1898 and who could speak 1898 in French, German or Spanish and more. Person, who knew the answer, ran to a can of beer and gave his right or wrong answer. What great fun and it was Team B who eventually won the contest by 1 point, bloody cheats.

It was then onto the sausages, hot buns, Cheddar flown in from UK by BJ and biscuits and quaffed down with beers and 21 year old whisky….what an excellent way to spend a Saturday in the New Territories. — Stunt Double

Hare Penile Dementia

Runners Dram, Golden Balls, Stunt Double, Radio 1, Hoover, One Eyed Jack, Stingray, BJ

Non-runners Electrolux, Catch Of The Day, Geriatric, Bondi Barbie

The First Run of 2019

Here we were, recovering from the New Year celebrations. This was to be the first Wednesday run of 2019. It was overcast, it was cold and there was the threat of rain, but 10 celebrated hashers were able to find the start of the run at a covered sitting out area next to the Pak Wo Road roundabout, Fanling. Of course, not all hashers made it by 7.30pm, but the run kicked off a few minutes later after we had been graced with the presence of our GM.

The Markings: The hare kindly described the markings and in so doing confused everyone with the suggestion that an “end of trail” (a traditional “T” accompanied by a dob of flour above the “T”) needn’t be interpreted as an “end of trail”! Eh? Beware of the check back(s), and look out for a potentially wet crossing of a stream, said the hare pointing to his muddy trainers. As far as the Old Fart’s Knitting Circle was concerned (namely yours truly), it was encouraging to learn that there would be no massive hills to climb (as per the run in Fo Tan on 19 December) and there was to be very little shiggy to clamber over. Phew! Thank you, Mister Hare.

There was even a hidden wimps run. For those of us hanging back, we were advised to climb down into a nullah upon crossing the footbridge. Just look for the on on and we’ll be ahead of the rambo runners. Sounds like a plan!

Shortly after 7.30, the GM declared on on, and we left the sitting out area, picking up the first of the markings just before entering a public park beside Pak Wo Road. The trail followed mainly paths threading their way past no end of single storey NT traditional wooden village houses. As I wasn’t carrying my phone, I was quickly lost as to my whereabouts. Fortunately, I was accompanied by the GM who seemed to be able to predict where trial was destined. Also, it was comforting to note a line of high multi-storey flats dominating the skyline. Surely, even if I go off trail, there’s a better than evens’ chance that I could find my way back to Fanling? Famous last words?

Actually, the trail marking was pretty good, and we stuck to the main paths for most of the way. No end of the village houses had dogs, but every dog was either caged or kept behind secure fencing. Nice Fido, nice doggy!

Eventually, the GM and yours truly stumbled across the nullah footbridge. Everyone else, be they rambos or wimps, were way ahead of us. This was to be the SCB’s chance to short cut! A fence had to be climbed before descending down the wing wall to the footbridge onto a grass verge beside the nullah. Wow and behold, an on on was marked on the pillar supporting the footbridge. Yes, this was the way home. After a few hundred metres, we encountered a check back. We had passed under another footbridge, so it was very likely the trail was on the footbridge. Indeed, it was. The only problem was negotiating the fence securing the course of the nullah. At the risk of castrating myself, the fence was slowly and carefully negotiated. Onto a check. Which way? Yours truly checked out the false trail, the GM instinctly followed the correct trail.

After saying hello to a charming lady outside her village house who seemed to question our right to follow public paths and who encouraged her eight or nine dogs to wake up the dead, we followed the trail alongside a stream in front of the aforementioned blocks of flats. Surely, we were on our way home. After being overtaken by the first of the runners, the path eventually, intercepted the outward trail. Clearly, after the start of the run, the hare had returned to the trail to cross out the outward markings and mark the on home. And so it was back to the bucket in only one hour. We learnt later, that the first batch of short cutters had encountered the outward trail before the hare had marked the on home.

The first runners back to the bucket were the short cutters followed by the runners. QT was the first runner back the bucket. Talking of runners, where was Liberace? There was no sign of him. It transpired that he had chosen to continue along a false trail towards Sheung Shui or possibly Lo Wu. After goodness knows how many kilometres finding neither chalk nor flour, he decided to retrace his steps. He was the last runner home. A first for Liberace? Surely, a prime candidate for a down-down?

And so as the ice cold Carlsberg and Tsing Tao began to flow at the bucket, along with red wine, the GM called the circle to order to announce the first of many down-downs. From my recollection, the hare Golden Balls, Penile Dementia and Liberace were top of the down-down league. The RA called more down-downs, too many for yours truly to recall. And then a free for all seemed to prevail, with everyone receiving many down-downs. Suffice to add that the men’s loo was behind a retained wall supporting the cover to the sitting out area. Not sure where the ladies loo might be found!

The circle could not enjoy the warmth of a Liberace inspired BBQ fire this time, but at least the rain held off bar a few drops of rain from time to time. A security guard looked in on us, but fortunately he didn’t seem particularly interested why a group men and women in running gear were intent of drinking as much alcohol as possible. Perhaps he had encountered such groups before?

The evening’s proceedings came to a close around 10pm. An interesting run, a jovial and jolly bucket. Great company. Grand bonhomie. What more could one ask for in the depth of Hong Kong’s Northern New Territories? Until the next time. — Bunter

Hare:Golden balls

Runners: One Eyed Jack, Liberace, Penile Dementia, Catch of the Day, Bunter, Radio One, Geriatric, Qutie, Golden Jelly, No Rough Stuff,

The Boxing Day Pizza Hangover Run

 

Golden Jelly scored a triumph with her Boxing Day Pizza Hangover Run, capping an “easy” trail around the hills of Tit Hang with a feast of wood-fired pizzas from a brick oven.

On a temperate sunny afternoon hashers set off along the dirt access road and straight into shiggy, soon working down a trackless hillside to a steep shotcrete slope and its overgrown access steps. From there, trail seemed to go into the dragon fruit farm but turned right to Ma Cho Lung, eventually crossing to the northerly range of hills through a gate. Of course locals were on hand to warn us off, but nobody paid attention, particularly Salesman.

A steep slog up to the ridge followed, with its spectacular views of Shenzhen, then a steep descent through bracken which saw Hoover navigating it on her arse, before a surprise arrival at the finish, where the hare had laid out a formidable array of drinks and snacks.

The usual boisterous circle followed, enlivened by the presence of various dogs and kids, before the promised pizzas started arriving from galley slave Golden Balls, who only emerged from the kitchen in order to chuck another prawn on the barbie pizza in the oven. The spirit of Zimmerframe was invoked as the slow-arriving pies were dispensed in bite-size morsels by See No Weevil, wielding a fearsome Kyrgyz blade — the scourge of the weevils.

As wine mulled and kids plundered the house for weaponry including guitar, drum and plastic trombone an impromptu singalong developed with Fartypants at the fore.

A veritable smorgasbord of a hash.

Hare Golden Jelly

Runners Penile Dementia, Eunuch, Liberace, Stringfellow’s daughter, Fartypants, Geriatric, Walky Talky, Hoover, Dram, Radio 1, See No Weevil, Stunt Double, Dingaling, Golden Balls, Salesman

Non-runners Antiseptic, Stringfellow, Catch Of The Day, Gunpowder Plod, PD’s wife, Beer Tits, Luk Sup Gow, Travis, Ruth, James, Phil

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R2P2 Wars

The French eh?

What a bunch of nutters, with their strange metric ways and fluorescent-jacket-wearing street winos – it’s no wonder that their president is a small boy who had his genitals raped off by a Jesuit school teacher.

The Markings: Overcomplicated of course. The usual CB, T, on on and trail, but….

R1 – rambos trail No.1

W1 – wimps trail No.1

R2 – rambos trail No.2

W2 – wimps trail No.2

W2 / R2 /R2P2 – bit where the 2nd rambo trail crosses the 2nd wimp trail – at this point, the 2nd rambo trail is then called ‘2nd rambo’s part 2’ (R2P2 – which I think was the name of a gay secondary droid character  from Star wars). Why he didn’t simply use R3 instead remains a mystery.

Smiley face – we didn’t quite get to the bottom of that marking – something about croissants no doubt.

The Run Explanation (please don a French accent when reading this):

“There are 2 rambos and 2 wimps, the first rambo you’ll need nice legs, and the second Rambo is lots of uphill, so you’ll need nice legs for that too… It’s only 5k for the wimps and 6k for the rambos – but only do the rambos if you have nice legs.”

The Run

Now I’m not a great fan of documenting the intricacies of runs, as a typical narrative descends into “and then….and then”, but this run was something else.

The first rambo / wimp split was quite literally at the start of the run. wimps going up the path towards the mountains and the rambos leading up some steep retaining wall service steps towards a tramp’s house, where we found the words “Rambo’s Go Wimps” inscribed on a drain outside.

Therefore after this brief futile jaunt up a slope, the rambo runners had to go back past the silhouette figure of crème Brule – his smile nestling comfortably within his beard revealed that this was a hare who plainly enjoys dishing out torture.

The next rambo / wimp split was not too far up the mountain – wimps taking the main path and the rambos up an overgrown rocky path which actually turned out to be a good bit of trail – this all melted into shit after the R2P2 split, as the trail became more vertical, ending up at a buzzing pylon where Liberace and myself got hopelessly lost like twats for a full 10 minutes.

Saving the day as usual was Penile Dementia who immediately found the correct trail back down the hill making the two of us look like bloody idiots. Charging our way down, the three of us came to a check – all three of us checking in different directions. Both Libs and PD returned after 20 seconds claiming no trail and despite protests from myself, they decided to take the trail that I was checking. Ten minutes later the three of us were still checking for trail and after some sharp thinking, we decided to descend the mountain by following a mountain stream, eventually discovering trail crossing it.

“I am sure the trail is going this way” Said Libs pointing his torch at the other side of the river.

We ran that way for 10 minutes until we saw an arrow pointing against us. We’d come so far off trail that we’d long cutted a huge circle back to the W2 / R2P2 split. Proven as bleeding idiots, we limped back home along the wimps, passing a crippled Catch Of The Day, a French madman in a car attempting to save said cripple, wife of French madman, a grinning Bunter, and a bucket full of shortcutters.

Circle was full of cheese sausage, and mold wine – we all got drunk and rowdy – the most wonderful time of the year.

Merry Christmas bitches – Eunuch

Hare Creme Brulee

Runners Eunuch, Liberace, Penile Dementia, Catch Of The Day, Bunter, more…

 

The Pub Run

Tai Po, with its 45 pubs, is the drinking capital of the New Territories and the perfect venue for the Christmas pub run, an event eagerly anticipated every December and trained for all year in madcap circles and subsidiary sessions. Would the pack be able to challenge the incredible record of 25 pubs set in 2011 by the hard core of Serbian Bomber, Stingray, One Eyed Jack, BOF and Golden Balls? Would the hostelries of Tai Po be thronged once again with carol-singing merriment and bonhomie? In short, no. The excuses were starting to wear a bit thin.

Luk Sup Gow: Sorry, I’m in the Philippines still suffering post-wedding stress.

Serbian Bomber: I’m still fighting the after-effects of virus.

One Eyed Jack: Got an upper respiratory tract infection.

Bunter: Stuck in TST for a dinner.

Back To The Future: Won’t be able to make it tonight.

At least there were a few names from the past on the starting line at the King’s Belly. But no. “Too old to run'” said Chilly Willy. “Injured,” moaned Gloria. “We won’t be joining you,” sniffed Victim and North & South. Then a missive from No Rough Stuff: “I can’t join tonight, I need to do OT at the office.”

“Who’s OT?” demanded Mango. “Lucky guy. Any relation to QT?” To which NRS shot back “If OT was a guy he’d be the unlucky one.”

And then, in a post dripping with bitterness and sarcasm from Mango: “Apologies, I will be present and I shall bring the chalk.”

Thus it was that on a cold cold night the Magnificent 6 gathered at the King’s Belly for the 2018 Pub Run, the run we train for all year. It’s such a tough event that the attrition rate had indeed been alarming, but Golden Balls gamely set off with the chalk to live-hare the first leg to pub 1, followed two minutes later by the pack of Geriatric, Liberace, Mango, Stingray and Eunuch, moving with fluency and co-ordination through the icy canyons. The first leg included a hill section half way to Wan Tau Kok Lane before dodging back down to the mazy alleys of town and a check at the pedestrianised zone. This flummoxed the pack, who weren’t used to such cryptic signs on a pub run but eventually they found their way to the taxi rank on Po Heung Street and — another check! “Outrageous!” the pack chorused, but trail was soon found leading to a lift in a building where GB was waiting on the second floor in a newish place called Free House, unknown to most of the runners. A WhatsApp came in from QT, who had arrived late and was following trail from the Belly: “Which complete and utter half wit set trail to the first bar?”

Second leg was set by Stingray, a straightforward trot through howling winds over Kwong Fuk Road to Bar Pacific, where QT was waiting having picked up trail on Kwong Fuk Road. The party was now the Magnificent 7 and things were shaping up for a quick traverse to the Tai Po Centre cluster of pubs with a pleasingly symmetrical return to the Tai Po Market group as the night progressed. But Liberace wrested control of the chalk from Stingray and set off on an idiotic meander back the way we’d just come, towards the Bobby London cluster. Outrage was expressed by QT as we passed one pub after another without being directed in, until we reached triad joint 6V Bar. Mango took over and avoided the sharp edge of QT’s tongue by going round the corner to identical triad joint Bar King, where Eunuch failed abysmally to do magic tricks with a deck of cards, then Geriatric set a mazy trail to the 133. Things were picking up pace as Eunuch took the reins, popping a few doors down the road to the Bobby London where we reminisced about such Bobby legends as Nick Griffin, Jim Nicholson and Steve James. It was time for QT’s leg, and he didn’t disappoint, hardly passing a pub on his way to pub no. 7 — whose name I forget — in Tung Fat Square just behind the Bobby. We were on a roll, holding form and looking good.

Stingray reclaimed the chalk and took us 150m up Kwong Fuk Road to another new pub, Double In, before GB crossed Kwong Fuk Road again to set trail to the Japanese half of the Gili Galu. Trail was edging once more towards the Tai Po Centre cluster as Mango grabbed the chalk and set off on a trail that only a man with no sense of direction could set, chalking arrows initially towards Tai Po Centre and then away, along the desolate tracts of Po Nga Street towards Tai Wo and its exactly zero pubs. After several faffs and short circuits, trail finally homed in on…a Seven-11. A quick tinnie later local resident QT rescued the run, getting us back on track to Tai Po Centre, all nudgers up, swift striding and clear-eyed. But not yet even half way to the record. QT’s leg ended at a pizza pub, the name eludes me –— Tapas, perhaps? — where a surfeit of greasy chips and other equally healthy snacks were devoured by ravenous runners. We then all declared ourselves too stuffed to do any more, and there, at station 11, the pub run ended.

Was it a failure? Certainly, like the great Ernest Shackleton, we had endured the icy wastes. Like Shackleton, we had failed in our stated objective and, like Shackleton, had prevailed against the odds, enduring almost unbearable hardships without the loss of a single man!!!

A glorious failure.

 

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Hares & runners Stingray, Golden Balls, Mango Groove, Liberace, Eunuch, Geriatric, QT

Next week’s run Creme Brûlée, Fo Tan