Run 1811, 28 June, Chau Tau

The Blood-fest

The view from the top – sort of

A mosquito-infested pagoda at Chau Tau was the meeting place chosen by hare Golden Balls for this eve-of-handover-20th-anniversary run. Serial on-outer Bukkake (or “Bookakkke” as he now styles himself) was first to arrive at the blood-fest, along with Catch Of The Day, closely followed by Geriatric, Liberace (who was in for a fraught night), Eunuch, Mango Groove, Dingaling and Velcro Lips.

Golden Balls plodded in some time before 7.30, fresh from setting the trail (although “fresh” is perhaps not the most apt of words to describe his condition) and loudly deplored the absence of iced beer, Golden Jelly having not yet arrived with same. He seized Bookakke’s bottle of lukewarm water before instructing the assembled hashers to clear off along a narrow path heading east through Chau Tau adding, for good measure, that there was no wimp option.

The trail wound its way amongst alleys and lanes for a few hundred metres before joining Castle Peak Road and crossing to the south side of the highway and Kwu Tung. Before long, however, we were heading uphill on steps and then shiggy to the summit of Ki Lun Shan, from where spectacular views of Shenzhen were briefly taken in, before a steep descent of the hill’s northern face brought the hashers back down to the Kwu Tung road, under the highway to Castle Peak Road, and on home. A most enjoyable and well-marked one-hour-plus trail.

Back at the start, a courting couple occupied the pagoda, despite the presence of two iced eskies, crates of booze and several backpacks, and proceeded to look uneasy as the hare set up the finish. The hare took pity on them, offering beer, softies, snacks and even mosquito repellent before abandoning the venue to the canoodlers. Happily, in the ensuing melee (see below), they “melted away into the night”.

A most unfortunate accident befell Liberace during the pre-circle wind-down. It involved the mysterious sudden slamming of Golden Jelly’s open car door and an unexpected and wholly regrettable injury to Liberace’s pinkie. The men in the white van were summoned to the scene, Liberace taken on board accompanied by Golden Jelly, and the other hashers waved farewell to them before commencing the serious business of the circle.

Bookakke’s latest on out (his fourth in four years), spectacularly upstaged by the Curious Incident of the Car Door in the Night Time, was celebrated with a degree of scepticism before the group dispersed into the darkness.  – A very jet-lagged “Bookakke”

Hare: Golden Balls

Runners: Geriatric, Eunuch, Liberace, Mango Groove, Dingaling, Bukkake, Catch Of The Day, Golden Jelly, Velcro Lips, Dingaling

Non-runners: Tangerine Dream, Ginger Moon


Run 1810, 21 June, Tin Shui Wai

Jumping the Shark – a Pre-Lube


Monday 19 June…Liberace and Mango Groove meet on a lesser gay hash. “Mango, you medium sized penis person, will you run on Wednesday?” asks Liberace.

“Yup, sure will Liberace, you sexy beast,” replies Mango.

Liberace scratches his head and sighs deeply. “It is in Tin Shui Wai. That fucking guy Eunuch has picked the furthest place possible. The weather looks terrible and we have no clear instructions.”

“Don’t worry my friend. I know Eunuch. He will get it sorted.  I am certain there are going to be tons of people there. The last time Eunuch set a run, from the Cow Patch, we had loads of runners. Even some young things showed up, exchange students I believe,” replies Mango, full of confidence.

“Well Mango, I can give you a lift on Wednesday but I may be a little late. Do you think you can buy the beer and I’ll pick you up outside Park n Shop in Fanling?” asks Liberace.

“No Problem.  Leave it with me,” replies Mango.


Fast forward to Wednesday 21 June, 6.15pm in Park n Shop.  “Right, that should be plenty. Seventy-two cans of beer, loads of soft drinks and plenty of potato chips,” says Mango proudly to himself as he piles all the goodies into a trolley and heads for the loading bay to meet Liberace.

“Mango, that seems like a lot of beer,” says Liberace as he helps Mango load the beer into the back of his van.

The drive out to Tin Shui Wai is a long one. As Liberace drives into the south Tin Shui Wai area he asks, “Mango do you have a location of where the start is?”

“No, problem. Eunuch sent one out this morning. I shall just call it up on my phone,” answers Mango as he attempts to show Liberace the attachment.

“Oh no! That fucking guy Eunuch didn’t send a proper map like everyone else. He sent us a satellite image of what looks like the top of a train,” moans Liberace as he pulls his van to a halt.

A short while later, after getting his bearings sorted, Liberace has worked out exactly where to go, and as he heads along a side road adjacent to the start a frantic call is received from the hare. “Are you coming tonight? I am here at the start ready to let the runners loose. I can’t hold them up much longer. They are super enthusiastic to get going,” explains Eunuch.

Within a few minutes Liberace and Mango are running across the road carrying as much beer as they can.  As they sight the playground only Dingaling and the hare, Eunuch, can be seen. “Oh you bugger, Eunuch. You started the pack off without us, now I have no chance of winning the hash tonight!” blubbers Mango as Liberace carefully places the beer into the eskies.

“Well actually, they haven’t started. This is it,” says Eunuch.

Liberace chuckles as he fondly recalls. “This is the same number of people that showed up for my run at Ma On Shan, many years ago. Just Eunuch, Antiseptic and Mango.”

Dingaling, who had been waiting a while wanted to get going, urges. “Come on Eunuch, tell us about the run, before the next rain band comes through.”

Eunuch begins to speak. “Well I had the most amazing run, ever. It was totally brilliant, hills, rivers, forests and a few temples but the rain came down and washed it all away.  So, I was forced to set only a short trail, sorry chaps.”

So off the pack heads.  At the first check, Liberace goes straight over the road, closely followed by Mango. Dingaling finds the correct trail, leftwards, heading into a small village full of lorry parks. The next check has the pack running in every direction possible as it appears that some of the markings were washed away with the recent rain shower. Eventually the three runners decide to head straight through, passing a building site where flour is again spotted. It looks like a short loop has been missed so they follow trail backwards before heading up onto and over a small hillside. What follows is some nice running with a few checks that are solved quickly by Liberace. Eunuch has cleverly placed a check back near the end of the ridge with correct trail heading down a slippery slope and into a very pretty tree-lined section. Another check back follows with trail leading out and onto the main road. A flat two kilometre run ensues before the runners arrive back at the start. According to Dingaling the run is 4.5 kilometres and 35 minutes, not bad given the terrible weather conditions.

Back at the buckets, Eunuch tries desperately to explain what his “real run” would have been like. As he finishes, Mango looks at him and smiles. “Not to worry. You now have a run sorted for your scheduled Saturday run, in December,” he says.

“I hate the Saturday run. No, I mean, the Jumping the Shark run. Ever since that episode in Happy Days when Arthur Fonzarelli water-ski-jumped over some small fish in a pond, he became the main character. He was no longer the walk-on star who we all loved. It was the end of Happy Days and this Saturday run thing will be the end of us, it really will.” blubbers Eunuch.

“Stop being a poof, Eunuch. Sounds like you had a good run, all you need is an on-on and your quids in,” replies Mango as he heads for the immensely overstocked bucket. There is a lot of ice-cold beer but who is going to drink it? Dingaling, Liberace and Eunuch are all driving and Mango doesn’t drink much…oops, someone messed up with the beer calculation this evening.

Talk at the bucket centres around the impending closure of Carnegie’s, another institution soon to be lost. A circle (well, more of a triangle) soon follows, led by Eunuch but eventually becoming a free for all. Once we have all had our fill, the remaining beer is stocked into Eunuch’s vehicle and off home we head.  Good effort Eunuch…we all love you really and we all look forward to your “Jumping the Shark Run.”  – Mango Groove

Hare: Eunuch

Runners: Dingaling, Liberace, Mango Groove

Run 1809, 14 June, Fanling Playground

The Illiterates Strike Back


I have come to realise that it would be a mistake to let most of our hashers loose with an Ikea self-assembly furniture kit. There would be screws and bolts and even panels left over and plaintive cries of “Why is it looking so wonky?”

This was illustrated by this week’s run, where author Bukkake and prize-winning poet (yes, really) Serbian Spammer Bomber Baron Diver von Mooseheime waited forlornly at the start with hare, Moonie. Of our other writers, Golden Balls was otherwise occupied and Gunpowder Plod was laid up with syphilis (or so I heard). Nobody else had read the hare’s clear and precise instructions and so they all waited in the wrong place. Even those who, like Velcro Lips, had replied to it.

In the correct location, we waited as 7:30 approached and left and nobody else arrived. Eventually, I asked our hare to brief us. With the pack (of two) crowding round him, Moonie explained that the trail was marked in chalk (arrows, on-on arrows, checks, and a solitary check back, and… (wait for it) … orange dyed flour  with one blob for trail and two blobs for on on. The hare’s instructions took a further turn for the bizarre, as he explained that he had not actually completed the trail and that after 8km (with no wimp/rambo split) he had given up. We should look for two concrete blocks and there we should turn to the right and make our way back to the out trail then follow it, in reverse, to home.

Throughout the briefing, I kept a sharp lookout for any more hashers arriving, but none were to be seen.

Assuming that the others had been put off by the rain showers, Bukkake and I set off. Since there were only two of us, we quickly made a pact to cooperate at all of the checks; whoever found trail at the check would then wait for the other to catch up before pursuing trail.

Little did I realise how I would suffer for this, as I had to stand and wait after solving each and every check, while Bukkake ran back from checking in the wrong direction. Of course, Bukkake had a different take on this, muttering about running all the extra distance…

After 4km, as we solved the check back, there was a sudden thunder of feet as those illiterates Eunuch, Mango, and Oranguwank caught up, asking if G-Spot had passed us. Velcro Lips and Dram had also turned up, although I’m not sure where they ran (except to be certain that it was somewhere that was not the trail).

Between villages, Eunuch solved a check quickly, climbing out of the valley while the rest of us blundered around, trying to find out how he had got up there. Finally, one of the locals called us over and showed us where Eunuch had gone.

As we climbed a short hill, I soon found myself trailing in the rear. A check marked the crest and I heard Mango calling trail to the left and so I followed. Bukkake was just ahead of me, also calling trail. Eunuch caught up from behind after he had lost trail, bitterly complaining about how nobody called trail.

Descending back towards Fanling, we all missed a small arrow marking a trail off to the left. At the wrong end of the village Bukkake turned left casting for trail but turned back without seeing anything. We cast backwards until we found the missed turn-off and followed trail until we found ourselves running past an arrow at the very spot where Bukkake had just a minute before given up (how does he ever spot the dragonflies?)

As we ran on and I had to stop to let cars squeeze past on the narrow road, I soon found myself on my own, out of sight of the other runners. Never mind, I thought. Soon be back.

As I continued onwards, I observed the transition from chalk arrows to the promised orange-dyed flour markings; both trail and on-on markings. Since they had missed the briefing, none of the other runners (except Bukkake) knew to look for orange. And Bukkake was blindly chasing after the other runners.

As I passed the two concrete blocks, I remembered to turn and ran down hill, quickly reconnecting with the out trail. There I found the hare, Moonie, marking arrows back to home. “Am I the last?” I asked, puzzled as to why he was still marking arrows even after I passed.

“No, mate.” he replied. “You’re the first.”

Refusing to let this go to my head, I headed swiftly for home, only to find almost everyone there waiting (short-cutting bastards). The sole remaining runner out there, G-Spot, was suffering déjà vu as he kept looping back to checks that he had already run through.

Down downs included (amongst others):

Hare – for setting a crap trail and (second down down) for not completing it.

Eunuch – for complete fuckwittery – he had actually been shopping next to the start while Moonie and I were waiting there and had walked past without stopping, on his way to the incorrect start.

Eunuch – for offering a lift to Mango despite knowing that Mango lives next to the start

Mango – for offering Eunuch a map to the (wrong) start

Nearly everybody – for failing to read the email instructions to find the start

Velcro – for replying to the run instructions without actually reading them

Everybody except the GM and the hare – for short-cutting

Dram – for being the same age as Donald Trump

Velcro – for being Buckethead (she wanted to be fish fingers)

Finally, for the sceptics, here’s one I wrote after a walk through the New Forest in the South of England, back when I was single and lonely:

Shocked man

Autumn Ache

I wander alone

Through swirling

Gold of sunbeams and

Autumn leaves

Drifting down

From the trees.


I hear the wind

Whispering through the

Branches above.


Calling to me,

From wherever you are,

From whoever you are,

Telling me of your love.


How will all this seem,

Next year

When you are here

To share all this

With me?

– Serbian Bomber


Hare: Moonie

Runners: Bukkake, Serbian Bomber, Velcro Lips, Dram, Eunuch, Mango Groove, G-Spot, Oranguwank

Run 1808, 7 June, Tit Hang

The Gobee-tween


Geriatric was first to arrive at the start, Golden Jelly’s place in darkest Tit Hang, having ridden in on a Gobee bike from Sheung Shui Station – and fallen off en route. He was joined by Eunuch, Mango Groove, Liberace, … and of course Golden Balls and Bukkake, who also live on-site.

The hare, fitting her haring duties in between trips to Guizhou and Kazakhstan, managed to find some fresh trail in the hashed-out Tit Hang terrain. Trail went south through the dragon fruit farm then cut right through new shiggy before joining the path linking the graves on the hillside. This was an easily navigable path courtesy of a recent hill fire that had also revealed long-abandoned trails. Months ago I had chopped a trail from the last grave through bracken up to the ridge, so I headed straight for this trail, convinced it would be correct, only to see everybody else following trail contouring around the hillside in the opposite direction. Having attained the ridge I followed it in the direction the pack had gone, meeting them at the trig point as they ascended from the other side. Hash craft!

Trail went along the ridge then cut down another newly revealed track towards the farm, then down some steps to Ma Tso Lung. After a bit of road running we hit another new stretch of shiggy as we ascended the (much higher) ridge to the north. From here it was a simple switchback ridge run towards Lok Ma Chau, descending on home through a sort of hidden valley.

At the finish GB produced his fine whisky collection for the circle (nominate your single malt of choice for your down downs) while Golden Jelly produced a tasty chicken curry.

Geriatric abandoned the Gobee bike outside the house. So it was the next morning I decided to ride it to Sheung Shui. But I only made it as far as the bins at Chau Tau because the saddle post kept slipping down and couldn’t be tightened, making me look like some chubby oversized child on a small chopper bike. I abandoned it at the bins, where it remained for another two weeks. Wonder which sucker picked it up…                  – Golden Balls


Hare: Golden Jelly

Runners: Geriatric, Bukkake, Golden Balls, Liberace, Eunuch, Mango Groove

1807, 31 May, Tai Wai

The Bald Truth

Hares Just Add Alcohol and Crash Test Dummy set a longish trail for this joint run with Little Sai Wan at the Che Kung Temple sports ground, and with both hares having run with N2TH3 in the past there was a reasonable turn-out from the northerners with about 10 runners showing up. Unsurprisingly, LSW had double our numbers, with a good half-dozen fit looking specimens, most of whom were bald.

Just Add Alcohol gave a briefing as Crash Test Dummy was still out on trail. No checkbacks, beautiful trail, rambo shiggy factor 4 (out of 5), wimps 0.5, rambo trail one kilometre longer than wimp. Pizza to follow.

As we started Velcro Lips arrived with Indyanus in tow. The skinheads took off into the night and I got to a road crossing too late to cross before an unending stream of traffic arrived, relegating me to my usual isolated backmarker position (along with Geriatric) much sooner than I’d expected.

Trail went through an estate then some village areas up to Worldwide Gardens, then sho’ ’nuff up the path to the Lion Rock catchwater. Here was the rambo/wimp split, with wimps indicated left and rambos right. I was interested to see what shiggy factor 4 was like so I turned right along the catchwater road. It went on and on and on. Just when I was losing interest there was a path leading up to the left in the direction of Beacon Hill/Lion Rock. I got off the hardtop with relief but was astonished to hear Geriatric coming up behind me. I can’t be going that slow! But no, the telltale clink of crutchpoles revealed the presence of latecomer Catch Of The Day, who quickly passed me with her bizarre vaulting gait. Then another light came up behind me: Eunuch. What he was doing behind me I’ll never know. Anyway it was a nice bamboo trail that went steeply upwards for a while before levelling out on the ridge leading to Lion Rock.

At a check I took a crafty shortcut down to the catchwater, then right for another interminable hardtop sector until I hit the path down to Sha Tin Tau, where I bumped into a front-running wimp. From here it was past San Tin Wai Estate, down the road and round the back of the Che Kung Temple hill home.

Rambo trail had carried on under Lion Rock to Unicorn Ridge and down to Sha Tin Tau, while wimps had gone from the catchwater directly up to the ridge to join the rambo trail, cutting out the shiggy ascent.

Back at the buckets the skinheads were unstubbly with goodness while our mob swarmed around the over 10 dozen beers we’d provided for the massed ranks. Plod as usual had done his own thing. Geriatric thought he’d done the wimps but couldn’t be sure. Velcro was nowhere to be seen. Bukkake had done the full wimps, charitably guiding Any Fanny’ll Do off the ridge after his torch had failed. Mango Groove, Eunuch, Catch Of The Day and an exhausted QT did the rambos.

If the number of runners had been 2:1 in our favour the circle was the reverse, with most of the LSW mob drifting off after a couple of slices of pizza. Eunuch ran the circle for us, then Indy for LSW. An enjoyable evening and kudos to the LSW hares for a nice trail. Happy birthday, JAA!

Here’s the LSW run report, clearly following the old adage that you should never let the truth get in the way of a good story! – Golden Balls

Hares JAA & CTD put on a terrific Team Green Training Run for hash 2117 at Che Kung Temple. A joint run with N2TH3, of which hardly any N2TH3 actually did full trail, most turning down what should have been the Wimps, following Inflato [that’s Oranguwank to us – Ed] down the first set of steps off Lion Rock for a comfortable 6km run. Instead the “real” Wimps was a 10km run up, along and back down Lion Rock, with the Rambos having a shiggy diversion early on for an 11km run.

Checks were a bit pointless as you knew where you were going, and with Indy finishing in over 2.5 hours, about 1.5 hours after the pizza had arrived, you knew it was going to be a long night.

Hares: Just Add Alcohol, Crash Test Dummy

Runners: Gunpowder Plod, Geriatric, Velcro Lips, Golden Balls, Catch Of The Day, Eunuch, Bukkake, Mango Groove, QT, Oranguwank, about 20 LSW

Run 1806, 24 May, Tai Po

Hell Hound On My Trail


The hare for run 1806 was Salesman. This short pithy sentence probably encapsulates all you need to know about how the run was to unfold (or should I say unravel) but Golden Balls has demanded a proper run report from me (Bukkake), so here goes.

Accompanied by the aforementioned Golden Balls, I drove to our seedy venue (a shadowy underpass beneath Tolo Highway near Shan Tong Village) and whilst seeking a place to park was confronted by a shuffling, Quasimodo-like character crossing the road in front of me. This turned out, on closer inspection, to be Gunpowder Plod. Two other dingy figures were perceptible in the gloom and, as Golden Balls and I stepped over to investigate, the inane banter emanating from the couple instantly identified them as Eunuch and Mango Groove. Our small group was soon swollen by the arrival of Liberace and then Catch Of The Day, who, for reasons which remained obscure, had also brought along her poor long-suffering mother.

Given that the hare was Salesman, his absence from the rendezvous and the lack of any helpful identifying markings (such as, perhaps, a luminous “N2TH3” scrawled on the ground as a beacon in the inky darkness), went entirely unremarked. Eventually however, Golden Balls urged us all to gather round so that he could divulge the hare’s “instructions”, to which he had been made privy. These instructions were brief and disarmingly conventional until Golden Balls reached the postscript: “You may encounter a HUGE HOUND that will attempt to misdirect you down sundry false trails.”

Still digesting that last piece of intelligence, the group (minus COTD’s mother) dispersed in all directions in search of trail, which was eventually detected on some steps going uphill on a bend in the road leading to Shan Tong. It was at this point that G-Spot, brilliantly timing his arrival to avoid having to spend tedious minutes searching for trail, came bounding up the hill looking disgustingly fit and healthy. The steps led up and quickly gave way to long, steep, arduous and slippery shiggy.

The pack (less Plod, who had prudently turned back, and Golden Balls who was late finding the trail) was still fairly close together during the early stages of this ascent, and so we all heard the blood-curdling shriek emitted by COTD when she was suddenly accosted by the HUGE HOUND as it sprang at her from the bushes. Mango could then be heard piteously attempting to befriend the beast and begging for mercy – a craven tactic but one which appeared to work.

I am constantly reminded that N2TH3 is a shiggy-loving hash, a mantra that I dutifully repeated over and over during the ensuing epoch (or 15 minutes) of unrelenting shigginess. Then – oh joy – we emerged onto a trail less vertical and less bushy and were able to tentatively trot along for a bit. The front runners, Liberace and Eunuch, had by this point opened up a large lead and, inevitably, ended up catching the wide-eyed hare. He pleaded for a five-minute stay of execution while he scarpered downhill. The regrouped pack then set off after him, descending along a concreted footpath which eventually brought us to the top of Shan Tong Road and an easy jog back down to the start. Salesman had valiantly put in a little loop off the main road toward the end but only a couple of eagle-eyed hashers (G-Spot, Eunuch(?), COTD) spotted it.

So, job done? Not quite. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, Golden Balls was enduring a tale of woe, which began when, already a long way behind the pack, he stumbled at the start of the shiggy and dropped his torch, which promptly gave up the ghost and defeated his frantic efforts to find it. Instead of doing the sensible thing and turning back to hit the hash beer early, he resolved to carry on, using his keenly developed hash senses to sniff out the trail in the dark. Having miraculously got through the shiggy, he was given a second nasty shock when he was accosted by the HUGE HOUND, which had been lurking on the ridge waiting for him. This ordeal so discombobulated him that he subsequently took the wrong trail down, ending up some miles away on Tai Po Road. By the time he staggered back to the starting point the circle was being wound up, but there was still sufficient beer for him to gratefully accept one or two down-downs. – Bukkake

Hare: Salesman

Runners: Bukkake, Golden Balls, Gunpowder Plod, Mango Groove, Eunuch, Catch Of The Day, Liberace, G-Spot

Non-runner: COTD’s mum

Hell Hound On My Trail – Robert Johnson

Run 1805, 20 May, Ma On Shan

Golden Plod: Are You a Sai Kunger?

IMG_6284 2Well it was Saturday 20 May, time for our long awaited first joint Saturday run with Sai Kung Saturday Hash House Harriers.  The pre-advertised meeting point had been moved, because of slightly deteriorating weather, to the small shelter near Ma On Shan Village. Not a bad location, plenty of room for parking, nice location for a circle and most importantly it allowed Monnie adequate privacy for his pre-run dump.  It was almost 3pm when this weeks scribe arrived with Liberace, but where were the SKSH3 lot. “Plod, where are your mates?” called the pack as we waited around mainly discussing photos of Moonie’s backside which have now gone viral.  “Oh look, here comes a Sai Kunger!” called Dingaling as a slim bloke walked towards us.  “Hello,  my name is Pacemaker,” said the fit looking hasher as he introduced himself. “Oh you must be a Sai Kunger?” queried Stunt Double, to which came the reply “No, just doing a visa run. Thought I should check out a few hashes.” Next from behind the mass of parked cars came another even younger geezer. “Hello I am Jim,” said the young man as he jovially introduced himself.  “Oh you must be a Sai Kunger?” queried Hoover, to which came the reply “no this is my first ever hash, never hashed before, but I like running.” So there we were a mass of hardcore N2TH3 hashers, two visitors, no Sai Kunger’s and Plod sat on his foldable chair, bottom lip beginning to protrude. But wait a minute, an automobile pulls up, out jumps a dog called Benji and a stalwart hash lady, Pissed in Pink, who is a well-known one hundred percent certified Sai Kunger.  Very quickly Plod’s eyes regained their sparkle, his bottom lip quickly retracted and up he jumped. “Time for instructions!” he shouted.

Give Plod his due credit, he went out the day before on a seven-hour recce (with Jam the Vag) and then took four hours setting trail.  In true Plod style, he used a combination of creative and sensible markings, in the event of a downpour, just so we won’t get lost. “Police tape, red string and closed arrowheads mean you are on correct trail. I have used shredded paper, there is a rambo / wimps split but rambos may take two hours,” instructed Plod. Loud shouts of “WTF, two hours are you nuts!” followed Plod’s instructions. Even Dram was taking no chances after his escapade on Wednesday night making sure he was armed with a Serbian Bomber style survival rucksack and for extra safety he made sure that his long-time friend, Geriatric, was going to stay with him.

So off we went, straight up the road, as if we were heading towards the old iron ore mines. Gaele Says No, Canton Clap, Catch of the Day, Liberace, Pissed in Pink and Moonie moved pretty sharpish as we approached the climb up Ma On Shan Country Trail. Two thirds of the way up, a check-back caused Pacemaker and Jim to run off trail for a while as the trail cleverly took us up into some shiggy to a four- way check that was eventually solved by Stunt Double and Dingaling, leading us rightwards. A slight downhill run followed before we headed back up Pyramid Hill, but not all the way to the top as the trail led nicely along the ridge. On a clear day we could have seen over Sai Kung, but the clouds were low, visibility down to less than 50 metres and we were getting wet, excellent conditions for hashing. An undulating but easy running trial eventually led to the Ngong Ping campsite, where Moonie, Gaele Says No and Pacemaker decided to investigate some strange movements coming from inside a red tent. Turns out it was two blokes playing hide the sausage…not good.

As the pack kept close together, we headed away from the campsite following a shiggy trail to Ngong Ping Chi Tong and the rambo / wimps split.  Pissed in Pink wanted to do the wimps, but didn’t want to be by herself so she stuck with the rambos. This proved to be a good call for Pissed in Pink as her dog, Benji was having a great time rolling around in the mud. Sensibly, Golden Jelly and Hoover took the wimps trail leading down some shiggy and back onto the on out trail for about a four kilometre run. The rest of the pack continued gamely on, mainly following red string and shredded paper, into some very swampy terrain. It was here that confusion reigned as most of the pack began following clear plastic tape. Only when Golden Balls arrived and together with Dingaling regained control, eventually finding trail veering rightwards before a long descent down. By now Mooinie and Gaele Says No had long gone and had solved every check first time, leaving the rest of the pack to look after each other. Some nice tricky downhill shiggy followed, much to the liking and amusement of Mango. A very well marked trail took us along the old boulder track towards Tai Shui Hang. By now Dingaling, Liberace and a few others were together as we found trail through the ruins at Chi Tong where an open check didn’t take long to solve as we guessed correctly that the trail was heading up through the bamboo laden hill near Shek Kung Tsai. A couple of checks later and we found ourselves running down from the saddle, past the large water tank, through Ma On Shan Village and on home. Having handled the run superbly, Pacemaker had a slip near the end, grazing his right arm and similarly Catch of the Day twisted her ankle on the return into Ma On Shan Village… some serious hoo doo going on there. Even Mango appeared moonstruck after the run, as he could not differentiate between Golden Balls and Gunpowder Plod, referring to them both as Golden Plod. First back were Moonie and Gaele Says No, who took just over an hour. The rest of the pack came in over the next 20 minutes, with the exception of Dram and Geriatric.

As we stood around drinking, a couple out hiking approached the group wanting to know where the old iron ore mines were. Dingaling quickly offered to help and with the assistance of Overdue decided to play tour guide… he really loves mines does our Dingaling. Plod wanted to get things going quickly so a circle was called. As the circle was in process, who should we see sprinting, round the corner of Ma on Shan Village? Yes, Dram. He decided that he didn’t want to be last back so raced Geriatric in.  Poor Geriatric, he looked like his eyes were popping out of his head when he got back. Turns out that the hare, Plod, had given Dram some instructions where to go and where to shortcut, but Dram misunderstood the instructions and instead of Pyramid Hill, headed for Needle Hill, miles and miles away, taking Geriatric with him. After giving Dram and Geriatric their respective punishments for attempting to shortcut, the circle continued until closure and home time. Must say, this was nothing short of an excellent run, great trail and very good markings. Definitely a gold star for Mr Plod or should it be Golden Plod? – Mango Groove

Hare & SP: Gunpowder Plod & Jam The Vag

Runners: Golden Jelly, Hoover, Dram, Geriatric, Moonie, Gaele Says No, Pacemaker, Jim, Liberace, Dingaling, Stunt Double, Canton Clap, Catch Of The Day, Pissed In Pink, Golden Balls