Arachnid I

The carpark at Golden Hill Country Park was the meeting point. The hare was Dram. This was the first time I’d ever been to this infamous country park, where you could literally hear, see and feel, up-close and personal, the infamous wildlife (the monkeys and wild boars) in the New Territories. When Liberace and I got there, I was amazed to see that they were all over the place. They were all sitting around the carpark fences and just kind of minding their own business, although I have no clue why they were there watching us with discerning eyes (maybe trying to steal our beer and food).

The run started at around 7:40pm when everybody arrived. Some of us, including myself and Radio 1, were really concerned and afraid of the monkeys. We were literally scared that they would attack us when we ran. And some of us were making comments to the hare as to why this place was chosen to do the hash.

The hare at the beginning said that he’d set two trails in 3.5 hours, which turned out to be a lie, as he must have forgotten to mention that he set the trails on separate days and that’s why there were markings from left to right. Anyway, we were braving the noise made by the monkeys and set off into the darkness.

As usual, I was the only one who got left behind the advanced runners. Following million of steps upward – these steps slow down some of the advanced runners tremendously, like Bunter, who’s almost 70 years of age!

So Bunter and I kept each other company almost the whole way. We were quiet at first, and to keep myself calm and ignore all the forest noises I had no choice but to keep making conversation with my companion. We kept talking and walking and he told me a story that he told me before, last time we ran together. However, I’d rather not say anything to him at this point and I just kept listening and pretending to be interested in his story.

So far the run was fine until there was a big marking with a circle and inside there was something, but we could no longer tell if it was a check back or just a check. We kept climbing the steps religiously believing that these would lead us to open flat ground in no time, but nope, the end was nowhere to be seen and the steps kept twirling and twisting and leading us into the deepest and darkest part of the forest.

Running out of breath, we slowed down and stopped for a while to catch our breath. At this point, all I could see was this meandering, long, steep, wet flight of steps ahead of me in this hopelessly endless darkness but somehow glittering with suspicious lights shaped like tiny diamonds along this dirt road. When I looked more closely with my headlamp, I could finally make out what they were – spiders!!! There were spiders along the trail and each of them must have had six eyes staring at us from our feet. I felt like fainting at first. I mustered up my courage and faced my own fear and kept walking ahead without looking at them.

After seeing these creepy crawlies, I’m sure we were being watched and stalked by monkeys and all sorts.

When we finally made our way to the wimps and rambo split, we decided to take the wimps instead of the rambo, and this of course was a bit of a dilemma for us, as no advanced runners decided to take this trail and so we were facing the darkness all by ourselves again. Bunter’s blow torch was running out of battery so my headlamp was the only light that could lead us back to civilisation. We had a glimpse of civilisation along the wimps trail, it was hiding behind a bushy hill… and then a pair of red eyes floating in the air and looking at us from afar in the dark… the noise of a dog barking getting closer and closer, ready to spring from behind or above us any time.

Finally we made it to the dam, the calming water resting silently in the reservoir reflecting the shadows of a blurry outline of the moonlight and castles shaped like towers. Just looking at this beautiful scenery made it all worthwhile, all the scary and crazy effort we’d made from the beginning. The night-time skyline was fantastic for the rambo runners. They could see almost anywhere including Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong Island, Tsim Sha Tsui and Shatin. What a great effort to set a run like this Dram! Salute to you!

PS – Back in the carpark where Velcro was challenging the monkey with big balls to a fence rattling competition disrupting the hash circle!  – No Rough Stuff

Hare Dram

Runners Green Head Penis, Oranguwank, Liberace, Eunuch, One Eyed Jack, Velcro Lips, Radio 1, Serbian Bomber, Back To The Future, Penile Dementia, No Rough Stuff, Bunter

Non-runner Golden Balls

What Run? What A Run!

It looked like for the first time ever there would be no run. A couple of hashers hadn’t pulled their run-setting weight and we were left with an unclaimed date. Repeated appeals, no volunteers. And so the hash was advised there would be no run. Then at the last minute an unlikely heroine stepped up, one with scant run-setting experience and one so afraid of graveyards (which tend to figure a lot in our runs) that she’d rather turn back than go through…stand up Back To The Future!

The lady spent the whole day recceing and setting the run in Tai Lam Country Park, and then turned up with 100 delicious chicken wings for the apres-run. Perhaps in anticipation of a blah run several hashers stayed away, but those who fronted up were rewarded with an almost perfect run with clever checks, good and long-time-untried shiggy (virgin to me but not of course to One Eyed Jack), a stream crossing and a surprise finish.

From the off it was provocative. Instead of going along the road into the country park, trail went through a gate and up steps above a shotcrete slope where runners negotiated some shiggy before dropping down close to the reservoir. Then it was up the road to a check at the steps down to the stream crossing that marks the end of the mountain marathon. Some hashers disappeared down the steps, others carried on up the road to the turning for the trail into the hills. Both parties met with a T. At this point Velcro Lips decided enough was enough and did her own thang.

I forget who it was that found trail after minutes of baffled charging around, possibly One Eyed Jack, but the route went up a steel ladder with a safety ring around it, climbing up a shotcrete slope to a shelf, then via a series of channels and shelves into a steepish trail through high shiggy. I was last onto the ladder and could hear “Trail!” increasingly faintly from above. Soon I passed Geriatric, and then at the top of the hill at about 200m altitude I caught up with Golden Jelly and No Rough Stuff, who were taking photos of each other and of the bridges below across the water like happy clapping tourists. A T next to a check revealed that the hare still wasn’t fully appraised of the nuances of hash markings, but it didn’t faze anybody. There followed a descent I’d never done before, quite rough and overgrown and with typhoon-damage complications, and the odd unexpected cliff if you strayed off trail. This challenging descent into a ravine ended at a broad stream crossing where I lost trail several times trying to head uphill away from the stream. By the time I found trail (along the stream then up some concrete works to re-cross the stream to the original bank) NRS, GJ and Geriatric had caught me up.

There followed a very steep ascent on fixed rope out of the ravine and suddenly you were on a road. I was so disorientated that I thought at first I must be somewhere near Tsing Fai Tong, but then I realised we were on the road we’d started out on, and the finish was less than a kilometre of easy running away. It not being a race or competitive in any way, I powered away from the other three hanging on the rope and scored a stunning victory at the back of the pack!

At the finish chicken wings were being devoured and Liberace was building a huge bonfire. One Eyed Jack led the circle and we stayed until the beer ran out – a sure sign of a good hash. Excellent effort, Back To The Future!  – Golden Balls

Hare Back To The Future

Runners Geriatric, Golden Jelly, No Rough Stuff, Golden Balls, Velcro Lips, Liberace, Eunuch, One Eyed Jack, Serbian Bomber, Radio 1