I survived another Hash. The way my tired old lungs were screaming during the climb, I started imagining the day when I just collapse, gasping on the trail. I did fine on the flat ground, though.

What made it all the more challenging is that in a “let’s go, Brandon” moment, I forgot to bring my trekking pole with me when I left home. I’ve really come to rely on that tool for balance and stability when I hike on uneven ground. I missed it most on the steep descent because the stick acts as a brake to my gravity-induced forward momentum. I didn’t fall, though, so I’m thankful for that.

We started the hike in Calapadayan, and I walked to the trailhead. I was somewhat regretting that when my lungs were poofed out early on. Nice trail of about 6K (plus another 3.5 for me). There was a second climb at Black Rock that I avoided. I might have tried it with my pole, but not worth the risk without it.

As usual, many of us made our way to It Doesn’t Matter at the conclusion of the Hash circle activities. And that’s where the fun ended for the night. And so does this post.

Not much to say about yesterday’s Hash trail because I didn’t do much of it. The meetup was at Columban College (near Barretto High School, where the Friday group gathered last week), and so once again, I opted to take the shorter route through the hills to get there instead of doing a long-ass street walk or using a trike. I’m still uncomfortable being unaccompanied in the wild, but as a commenter here pointed out, there is danger in everything, so just man up and do it. I’m paraphrasing, but with the exercise of prudence and diligence, it is not inherently unsafe to hike alone.

Anyway, shortly after leaving the house, I realized that I had neglected to use my nebulizer before departing, as is my custom. My lungs ain’t what they used to be, and even a minor climb will often leave me feeling breathless. Well, shit. I didn’t have enough time to return home and still make it to the start, so I just pushed on. I always carry an inhaler in my pocket, so I took a couple of squirts from that and hoped for the best. Turns out Columban is exactly 1.25K from my house, and the one climb involved wasn’t a killer. So far, so good.

I headed out with the Hash group and went as far as the beginning of the first climb. I’d done it before, and it was not all that tough, but a voice in my head said, “are you sure you want to do this?” It turns out the answer was no. I told my fellow back-of-the-pack Hashers that I was going to keep it flat and I’d see them at the On-Home. I did around 5K before arriving at the Hare’s beer stop at McCoy’s on Baloy Beach. The Hare had arranged for a short banka boat bay tour, which was a nice break from the norm, although I declined to participate in that event as well (I didn’t want to wade out to the boat or take my shoes off). Yeah, I guess I was just in a lazy mood. I had a couple of beers at McCoy’s, then walked up the bach to Da’Kudos, this week’s Hash venue.

I didn’t take many photos, but here are some from others who did:

I guess it is no real surprise that there are a few assholes in our group. And yes, I recognize that some of my fellow Hashers may consider me to be one. But generally, I don’t engage or interact with the jerks. Still, I encountered two at IDM last night. No big deal, I can handle it, even if I don’t much care to have my buzz killed by self-important losers like those two.

And on that note, I think it may be time for me to take a break. I’m leaning toward not Hashing next week at all. Maybe a little distance will improve my perspective.

From the beaches, to the mountains
On the highways filled with cars
God bless the Subic Hash
Where we walk so far...

Okay, it needs a little work, but it just came to me as I sat down to write this post. Sue me.

Yesterday was a nice mix of terrain and paths that we have not recently walked. The beach was packed with more locals than I recall seeing enjoying the sea and sand, but the New Year’s holiday wasn’t quite over (a three-day weekend). The climb up Kalaklan was a killer, or it could have been the way I was breathing, but here I am to tell the tale. The trail started and ended at It Doesn’t Matter. I limited myself to one beefy taco, and it was surprisingly good for pub fare. The Hash is my cheat day for beer, and I took full advantage, sticking around for a few more when the circle was done.

And that was the ups and downs of yesterday’s Hash.

I’m trying to up my daily step count as I fight the battle of the bulge. In that regard, I have lengthened my dog walk routes some. I also took a morning stroll through the neighborhood.

I also enjoyed taking a peak into the future from various perspectives.

That’s how I spent my sloppy seconds. It just keeps getting better and better.

The annual Hash Candy Run was a success, with a huge turnout of Hashers spreading joy in the form of sweet treats for the children in the neighborhoods we marched through. I brought more candy than I could carry (I literally had to transfer some to my backpack), and I still ran out before reaching our On-Home destination at Smoke and Bottles. I don’t think a country where the women love sex as much as they hate birth control will ever suffer from a population decline. At least once a year, some of those poor kiddies get some sweets to eat. A little bit better than nothing at all, and it’s nice to be out there being a part of it.

It was a sweet day for the kids we saw, and I’m glad we could spread some joy. Got a big community outreach with some native folks in Olongapo tomorrow. Looking forward to that as well.

Look for a full report on that event soon!

I saw Taj Mahal live at a small club in Huntington Beach, California, called “The Golden Bear” in the mid-70s. That “Candy is Dandy” line is from one of his songs: Ain’t Nobody’s Business. Classic!

How wonderful was yesterday’s Hash trail? Well, it inspired me to steal write a song:

All alone at the end of the Hash trail
When the hiking is replaced by brews
I was thinking 'bout a pathway I love to take
But I seldom use

You know I've always been a hiker
(Spent my life walking 'round)
And it's so hard to change
(Can't seem to just sit down)
But the hikes I've seen lately
Keep on turning out and churning out
And climbing out the same

So put me on a Hash run
And let me follow the signs
And take it to the ridgeline one more time

Yeah, I won’t quit my day job. Even though I don’t have one.

A couple of weeks ago, while I was sipping a cold one at BarCelona and looking out at Kalaklan Ridge, I got to thinking about how long it had been since I’d last hiked up there. So, when I heard from 18 Kilo Ass (who Hared along with Leech My Nuggets) that we’d be doing the ridgeline, I was glad, even though I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy trek.

The up, as expected, was challenging, but I’ve had worse climbs to the ridge. Once we reached the top, Leech and 18 Kilo did a down trail, but my group didn’t fall for that ruse (you go down and then do ANOTHER climb back to the ridge); instead, we continued walking the line knowing our path would once again cross the Hare’s trail further on. And then, I encountered a dilemma. There was a visiting Hasher in our group, and he was slow and ill-equipped to handle a Leech level of difficulty. The first climb had kicked his ass to the point where even walking the relatively easy ridgeline required him to rest frequently. Now, unlike our Wednesday/Friday hikes where we stay together, a Hash is more of an individual endeavor. So, no matter how fast or slow you might be, you can just follow the trail markings to find your way. Except since we had shortcutted to avoid that first down, we weren’t on the Hash trail, and there we no marks to follow. Experienced local Hashers know ways to get back to the On-Home, whether the trail is marked or not. This new guy wouldn’t have a clue and so leaving him behind was really not an option. On the other hand, standing around waiting for him constantly was really killing the joy of my hike. So, Pubic Head and Buddy Fucker stayed behind to wait on the slowpoke (and if I’m calling someone that, you know they must be like molasses), and I moved on alone.

Now, I knew where I was and pretty much knew how to get where I was going, but I’m never really that comfortable hiking alone up in the hills. Too much can go wrong in a “one false step, and you are in a world of hurt” kind of way. That’s why I like the Hash and group hikes; otherwise, I’m pretty much confined to the streets. So, when I came to a path I was familiar with and knew it was not overly difficult, I decided to forego the reunion with the Hash trail and just make my own way back to Barretto. And then, about fifteen minutes later, lo and behold, my path intersected with the Hare’s trail. Crazy coincidence and I wasn’t going to challenge fate, so I followed the well-marked path of the Hares. I’d never gone that way before, and it featured a climb and a couple of rough spots, but I kept my eyes wide open and hiked as safely as possible. Before too long, I ran into a group of non-shortcutting Hashers, and my lonely vigil was over.

I got a little chuckle later in the hike as we did the final down into Barretto–Pubic Head and the new slow guy were actually AHEAD of me on the trail! A masterful job of shortcutting, to be sure!

To the pictures then:

Here’s the way to Relive the hike if you so desire:

And now for the rest of that song:

You can spend all your time walking backroads
You can spend all your hikes wasting time
If you fell down that ravine tomorrow
Would you still be fine?

And when you're looking for the chalk marks
(Nobody seems to care)
And you can't find the trail
(Can't find it anywhere)
When there's nothing that's worth seein'
Still you're coming back, you're running back
You're coming back for more

So put me on a Hash run
And let me follow the signs
And take it to ridgeline one more time

And it goes without saying that I offer my sincerest apologies to the Eagles.

It was a pretty nice Hash trail yesterday, up until it wasn’t. Longish at 8K, but the only significant climb wasn’t all that bad. Part of the down was through a creekbed, but the stones let you stay above the water. In fact, things didn’t go wrong for me until we were back down in the valley. I’d written about a Wednesday hike a couple of weeks ago where trying to avoid the flooded road along the berms/levees/dikes in the rice patties had proved fruitless. When I found out the Hash trail was also going through the same area, I expressly asked the Hare (Almoranus) about the water, and he assured me we could complete the hike with dry feet. So, when the designated path led back to the flooded road, I was a little pissed.

With my “fuck that” attitude firmly in place, I headed up the hill alongside the road, hoping to find a way to bypass the water. Once I’d gone as far as I could, I headed back down only to encounter a VERY steep descent near the bottom of the hill. I was treading carefully, holding on to tree limbs, and using my stick to steady myself, but it was to no avail. Suddenly, my feet flew out from under me; I came down hard flat on my back, then slid about ten or fifteen yards before mercifully coming to a stop. I was fortunate to only acquire a few scrapes and scratches during the ride down on my ass.

When I stood back up, I was disgusted to discover that I hadn’t managed to bypass the flooded road after all. So, I retreated along the bank back to where I had initially deviated and saw that my fellow Hashers were jumping over a narrow section of the road to reach dry ground on the other side. I joined in and made a successful leap, further demonstrating that my avoidance had been not only fruitless but also unnecessary and foolish.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. When I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to take a photograph, I discovered that it had not withstood the impact of my entire body weight slamming it into the ground. The screen was black and cracked, but the phone’s innards were still working. I could hear my tracker as it continued counting out distance and elapsed time, although I’m sure the mocking tone of voice was all in my imagination. Fuck.

My efforts thus far today to get the phone repaired have been fruitless. The Samsung A53 is a newer model, and no one has replacement parts in stock. I also discovered that I’m addicted to my phone and all the distractions it provides, so in desperation, I bought a replacement this morning (an A23 that I will keep as a backup for future emergencies).

Anyway, no other issues on trail. We did our first On-Home at Johan’s on Baloy since before the scamdemic. So, one more step towards normalcy. I figured the photos I had taken during the hike would not be available for this post, but I discovered almost by accident that they automatically upload to the Google Cloud, so at least I have a few of my own to add to the mix today.

Let’s get to it.

It’s been a while since I’ve done an 8K Hash trail. I had also done a beach walk in the morning. Lately, I’ve been averaging between 15,000 and 20,000 steps per day. It is very rare that I’ll do much more than that–21,000 thousand is a big day for me.

But Facebook memories remembered:

And falling on my ass.

I successfully completed run number one thousand five hundred and twenty-six with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers. Well, a portion of it, anyway. Vienna Sausage (Guenter) was the Hare, so shortcutting by the “sane” group was inevitable. Sure enough, after completing the first climb, the trail immediately headed back down again. My group said, “nope,” and stayed up top. It wasn’t long before the Hare’s trail rejoined ours again. This happened twice more, and we didn’t fall for it. I laughed that we all know Vienna too well to get suckered into all those ups and downs. At one point, he had actually tied the tall thatch grass together in an attempt to hide the alternative path. I saw through that gesture and took some joy in breaking through the barricade while shouting a hearty “follow me!” to the rest of our group. Good times!

We took the next to last down and then shortcut our way back to the VFW for our On-Home festivities. The portion of the trail we did was familiar and mostly pleasant, except for the damned thatch grass. Well, ’tis the season and all that.

I didn’t have access to the photos Pubic Head puts together for the Hash page, so the viewing is a little sparser than usual. Sorry about that!

What? Are you wondering what this post has to do with four and twenty virgins? Glad you asked! The Hash Songmeister asked me to introduce a new song at the circle yesterday, and wanting to be a team player, I agreed. At least you didn’t have to hear me singing it!

Four and twenty virgins went down to Subic Hash
And when the Hash was over, there were four and twenty less
Singing, balls to your partner, ass against the wall
If you've never been drunk on a Monday night
You've never been drunk at all

You are welcome!

And here’s a quick peak into the future for y’all:

What was I doing fifty years ago? Pretty much what I’m doing now–enjoying my time in the countryside.

Of course, I wasn’t old enough to legally drink back then, but weed was readily available for ten bucks an ounce, so I got by.

But before we get to that, I wanted to say thanks to the commenters who took the time to offer thoughts and insights on my possible entry into the bar biz. Much appreciated!

Once again, I shortcutted the trail because one climb (out of three) was more than enough for me. My version provided a 4K hike rather than the six the Hares intended. I’m pretty sure they’ll get over it. Several members of the “sane” group followed my lead, so I didn’t suffer from loneliness on trail.

I know, I know. Less talk, more pictures. Here you go:

One more Hash in the books. When the festivities were done, I marched myself down to Snackbar and spent too much money on thirsty girls. Oh, well. You gotta spend it on something.

I went home early and pigged out on ice cream. It’s not just the beer that’s making me fat. Maybe I’ll make a New Year’s resolution to lose the gut. Still, with whatever limited time I may have left here on Earth, should I really spend denying myself the things I enjoy? What a dilemma!

Half a Hash trail is better than no Hash trail. And sometimes half a trail is better than a whole trail. That was the case for me yesterday. Some of us retreated from the first big climb and took an alternative route. Still had to do an up, but this one was not so steep or long. Our “sane” path came in at 6K of the original 10K slog the Hare, Almoranus, had laid out for us.

It was good to be back on the Hash trail again. That makes one in a row! Next week we are doing an outstation run at Pundaquit in San Antonio. Looking forward to that one.

A pretty darn good Hash trail yesterday. At least the parts I did. Difficult enough to get the heart racing but not so hard that it stopped being fun. Of course, avoiding the first and biggest climb of the day helped in that regard. Credit where it is due, though, to the Hare, Leech My Nuggets, who actually found some new paths for us to tread, and he did his usual fine job of marking a trail that was easy to follow.

After the Hash, I continued my drinking spree at Alaska Club, bought some lady drinks, then triked home for a smoothie and some sleep.

And now today is the tomorrow I worried about yesterday. I guess that’s the carousel of time thing Joni Mitchell sang about.

And here is today’s installment from the SOB dance competition–The Whiskey Girls.

No, I’m still moving at a slow speed, but yesterday’s Hash trail was a little different and actually quite nice. Cumslinger was a first-time Hare (assisted by Fucking Cupcake), and while the area we hiked was familiar, the actual paths for most of the trail were new to me. There was one climb at the end that I managed to bypass, so I consider that a win too.

The meet-up location was at the junction of the National and Govic highways. From there, we took a hired Jeepney all the way out to Naugsol, which surprised me because I had signed on for the “easy” trail. Just walking the road back would have been a good slog, but as it turned out, the paths through the fields, forests, and landfills cut some of that distance down. I logged in at just over 6K, start to finish.

We had a heavy rain in the morning, but by the afternoon start, the sun was shining. The Hares had a unique way of marking most of the trail–stapling pieces of paper to leaves and tops of thatch grass. It actually worked pretty well visibility-wise, at least on my portion of the hike. I’m told the people who did the long trail got lost in places because some of the locals apparently removed the stapled paper the Hares had left. That’s the thing with powder and shredded paper on the ground; it’s much harder for malicious individuals to remove.

Here are some pictures from the journey:

Well done!

You can Relive the hike here if you are so inclined:

So, I made it out to Angeles City and back unscathed. We signed up for the anniversary event at Premier Hotel, the ACH3 On-Home, then followed the jeepneys full of Hashers out to the trailhead, a thirty-minute drive over some very dicey roads (my driver’s vehicle bottomed out once and almost got stuck in sandy soil). Getting out again in the dark wasn’t much better, but we made it.

On the way to the start, I kept telling my Hash companion Scott that the scenery looked oddly familiar. He kept insisting we’d never been there before, but there was a dream-like “I remember this” quality to the views throughout the trip. And then, when we pulled into the field where the Hash event would be held, I knew for sure I’d been there. It was almost two years ago with the Corona Hash group. Scott hadn’t attended that run, so we were both right. And as it turned out, we wound up doing the exact same trail that I had Hashed with the Corona H3. So much for seeing something new on this trip.

That said, it was a nice trail on a beautiful day. A tough steep up, but it wasn’t too long. Some meandering along the hilltops, sometimes with a precipitous drop on either side, then a not-too-difficult climb down (on the medium trail anyone, I understand the long trail required a rope for the descent–no thank you!), and then a walk back to Hash circle on a flat dirt road. Took us about two hours from start to finish.

As usual, let’s tell the story in pictures:

As Hash circles go, the AC version was pretty tame, if not lame. But everyone has their own style, and I can find plenty to criticize about how we do it in Subic, too. A long and expensive trip for a few hours of fun, but no regrets.

UPDATE: Well, I’ll be damned. Turns out that Corona Hash I mentioned was in March 2021. It’s a little scary that my memory of that trip was so vague. Ironically, that linked post was titled “Things can always be worse.” A couple of days later, I came down with the Corona, as did several other attendees. We all lived to tell about that, too.

A pretty nice Hash yesterday. A lot of the trail I did was unfamiliar to me, and that’s always a plus. It was challenging enough without being insanely difficult. Which is not to say I didn’t shortcut; of course I did! I was dead last amongst the early group, and when all the runners from the late group had passed me, I figured I’d best get back On-Home before all the beer was gone. If I have any regrets, they are too few to mention.

Some after-Hash beers at It Doesn’t Matter. Agnes greeted me with a hug. I was polite. No, I didn’t buy her a drink.

I’m happy to report I survived another trail by the notorious Hare, Vienna Sausage. Weirdly, the “sane” group I was with was in sync with Vienna’s thinking, and thus we were able to avoid the worst of what he had planned to put us through.

A challenging and steep climb in the beginning, which for me, is better than at the end when my energy stores are depleted. Still, this up had me huffing and puffing, and when we were finally near the top, the trail turned back DOWN the mountain. Fuck that. We looked around for an alternative route and saw a trail had been blocked off with a bamboo stick. Hmm. Easy enough to remove the blockage and continue on to the summit. And surprise, surprise, after a very short walk on the alternative path, we found ourselves back on the Hare’s marked trail. As we suspected, that downhill was just a diversion to make things harder than they needed to be.

The same thing happened a couple more times during the hike–we’d see the marked trail divert in a way we didn’t like, so we went our own way, and before long, we’d be back on the Hare’s trail again. Near the end, we found our own way back down and took an alternative route back to the On-Home at the VFW. So, it actually worked out well. We did the “best” parts of the trail and let the die-hards have their fun on the rest of it. Win-Win!

After the Hash circle was concluded, some of the group moved to It Doesn’t Matter to drink a little more. As usual, I was buying lady drinks for my favorite, Agnes, and then something weird happened–she disappeared with a full bottle of beer I’d just bought her (200 pesos!) left sitting untouched. Okay, she’s a waitress, and it was busy with all us Hashers there, so I assumed she was taking care of customers. But when she didn’t return after several minutes, I knew something must be up. It was.

It turns out Agnes wasn’t performing waitress duties, or at least I’ve never had a waitress do what I observed her doing. She was standing in the middle of the crowded room with a man in motorcycle club attire. Well, standing ain’t quite the right descriptor–she was kissing him. Eh, I mean deep tongue kissing. And he had his hands all over her. I had never seen such a blatant PDA in any Barretto bar before. I still would have found it offensive if they were an old married couple. I’m surprised no one shouted, “get a room, for chrissakes!”

I’ll tell you why. To begin, I purchased her a drink which comes with an obligation to drink it with the customer who bought it. If she wanted to go be all kissy-face with the biker dude, she should have just declined my drink offer. Or if she had said, “I’m sorry, John, but a friend of mine is here, and I need to see him.” I would have told her fine, take your beer and go. But to just disappear was extremely rude.

The other bothersome aspect for me was being so totally wrong about someone. Now, Agnes isn’t the typical bargirl. She’s 38 and has four kids. But I have enjoyed her company for several months now, and I always saw her as a hard-working mother doing the best for her kids. She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t know if that was a lie or if I was witnessing love at first sight with this guy. There is no question those were passionate kisses, and she was an equal and willing participant, even when he was rubbing her tits. I was having a hard time believing my eyes, and I was disgusted with my failure to see the true nature of her character.

In retrospect, I don’t know why I should have been surprised. My previous IDM favorite waitress turned out to be a lesbian, unbeknownst to me. Heh, I guess I’m just easily fooled. Oh well, time to find a new favorite again.

Switching gears, I think this explains why my blog is not very popular (less than 200 daily readers this week):

And I didn’t know what to make of this ad that appeared on my Facebook newsfeed today:

Life’s mysteries abound.

Well, better than expected anyway. The rain stopped just a few minutes before we started out on a Hash trail designed with potential rain in mind. That meant the back streets of Barretto, a walk on the beach, more Barretto streets, then an exploration of Alta Vista. The hike ended at Da’Kudos on Baloy Beach.

And so ended another Hash Monday.

One of the wettest Hashes I can remember. I think the last time it rained that hard and that long, we wound up just doing a bar crawl instead. Once again, the rain held off until I was out the door and well on the way to our starting point on Govic highway. Honestly, though, I doubt I would have carried an umbrella anyway. I definitely needed my walking stick for the muddy slopes we traversed. Needless to say, I was as soaked to the bone early on. After that, it didn’t really matter anymore. The rain made it difficult to get many pictures, but here are what me and my fellow Hashers managed:

Yep, a wet and wild afternoon. I was soaked and feeling chilled. I stopped at McCoy’s after the circle for another beer, then caught a trike home. 6:30 is pretty damn early, even for me. But into each life, some rain must fall.

Raindrops are falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothing seems to fit
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling

So I just did me some talking to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
He's sleeping on the job
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep fallin'

But there's one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me
Won't defeat me
It won't be long 'till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red
Crying's not for me
'Cause, I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining

Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me

It won't be long 'till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red
Crying's not for me, 'cause,
I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining

Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me

At least, that’s what Shakespeare says. Kinda.

The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.

Sir John Falstaff in Henry IV, Part 1

Of course, in the context of that play, Falstaff’s discretion was acting cowardly. Regardless, I am alive to tell about yesterday’s Hash adventure, and that’s the most important thing, at least to me.

It rained most of the day, and then, as if by magic, the rain stopped and didn’t start again until we were safely On-Home at It Doesn’t Matter. But the damage had been done with the steep climbs and descents laid out by Vienna Sausage (Guenter) being a muddy and slippery mess. My usual wingman, Pubic Head, opted to stay on the pavement, saying that the planned trail was difficult enough on a dry day. The other members of the “sane” group had already departed, and I was loathe to make that steep climb on my own, given that my unfamiliarity with the area would make it hard to shortcut should I deem that necessary. I reluctantly decided to forego the trail as well.

I waited at the start until the scheduled 2 p.m. departure time for the sane group, expecting Black And Dick Her’s arrival. She turned out to be a no-show, so I headed out on my own pavement hike. I began on Abra Street, then circled back around randomly until I found myself on Rizal Extension. The Hare had said in his pre-hike briefing that the first part of his trail came down from the ridgeline, crossed Rizal, and then continued over another hill on the way to the On-Home venue. I decided to check that out and decide what to do from there.

When I found the trail again, I recognized this portion was one I had previously hiked, although my recollection was vague at best (pretty much like everything else in my garbled brain these days). But at least I had some familiarity which gave me the confidence to go forward, knowing I could always bail and go back the way I came. So off I went.

These days, when I hike alone, I keep things pretty flat in areas where other people reside. My nightmare is to take a plunge somewhere way up in the hills where no one would ever find me, and I’d suffer a slow, agonizing, and lonely death. Hey, I have a good imagination! But this trail started with steps and paved sidewalks, and when the concrete gave way to dirt (and mud), the climb wasn’t scary difficult, and there were no big dropoffs–even if I were to trip, the fall wouldn’t kill me. The higher I went, the more familiar my surroundings became, and at the top of the hill, I found myself on the well-known My Bitch trail. Now I had the confidence to continue on the Hare’s well-marked path the rest of the way On-Home. I also reminded myself that even if some tragedy were to befall me, the main body of Hashers were all coming from behind, and at least someone would find my corpse while it was still warm.

I successfully completed my journey to It Doesn’t Matter without a single trip or fall, just a couple of minor slips that kept me focused on the task at hand. It is certainly more fun to have some companions along on a hike, but I was kind of proud of myself for finding the courage to go it alone.

Here are some photos I took along the way:

After the Hash, I took my drunken ass to Sit-n-Bull for some grub.

It turned out to be a better day than I expected. I’m glad I lived to tell about it!

Well, you can rock it you can roll it
You can stop and you can stroll it at the Hash
When its muddy and you're spinnin'
You keep on movin' when you're feelin' chicken at the Hash
Doing the trail the way you like it all throughout the nation at the Hash

Ah, let's go to the Hash
Let's go to the Hash, (oh baby)
Let's go to the Hash, (oh baby)
Let's go to the Hash
Come on, let's go to the Hash

Well, you can swing it you can groove it
You can really start to move it at the Hash
Where the paths are the smoothest
And the hiking is the coolest at the Hash
All the dudes and the gashes get their kicks at the Hash
Let's go!

Let's go to the Hash
Let's go to the Hash, (oh baby)
Let's go to the Hash, (oh baby)
Let's go to the Hash
Come on, let's go to the Hash
Let's go!

My sincerest apologies to Danny & the Juniors for my bastardization of their hit “At the Hop,” a song nearly as old as I am. I don’t know what got into me. And no, it wasn’t drugs.

I actually rather enjoyed yesterday’s Hash trail. Well, as much as you can enjoy heavy breathing and becoming a hot, sweaty mess. Hmm, that sounds almost like passionate lovemaking. To be clear, the trail was NOT that satisfying! Still, we did a comfortably short 6K jaunt from Calapadayan to Baloy Beach. My version featured a steady but not too steep climb in the beginning, a relatively gentle downhill, then a mostly flat valley walk. There was second climb to the top of Black Rock, but I opted to go around rather than over that one. Finished with a pavement walk through Matain where we caught a banca boat across the river to the shores of Baloy. A pleasant beach walk led to our On-Home at Da’Kudos. All in all, one of the better trails we’ve done recently. It had been a while since we’ve hiked that area, so it was a nice change of scenery too.

Here’s a slew of pictures, you decide:

Hope you enjoyed the journey.

A rain-soaked Hash yesterday. Light rain when we started, heavy by the end. There were two trail options: the “turkey trail” and the “eagle trail.” I took the high-hard route for some reason. It got a little dicey towards the finish as everything was soaked and muddy. I bailed on the last hill climb because it just felt too dicey. But considering the elements, it was a nice challenge to get as far as I did.

The On-Home was at Fireman’s (Todd’s) house, and he had food catered from the kitchen at It Doesn’t Matter brought in. It was all good and a very generous gesture to feed forty-odd wet and hungry Hashers. Here are some photos from the day:

It will be hot again eventually, and I’ll be able to stop complaining about the rain. On those sweaty days, I’ll be longing for the cooling feeling of a rain-soaked shirt.

Life is all about taking the bad with the good. And everything in between.

I came. I climbed. I slipped, I fell. But I accomplished my goal of completing the trail. Well, the “sane” hashers version of the trail, which, as is our custom, contained some shortcuts and deviations. Still, I hung with the group, a little slower than normal, but that wasn’t unexpected. What was different for me was experiencing some lightheadedness during the main climb of the day, which manifested itself as a feeling of being unbalanced.

A light rain began falling just before we headed out, and I overcame the urge to use that as an excuse to bail out of the hike. I did feel obligated to at least try. The rain put a fine glaze on the mud, which made for some slippery going, especially on the big downhill portion of the trial. I eventually lost my feet and came down hard on my ass, but luckily I landed in mud and not on a rock.

The On-Home was at Blue Butterfly, and I sat in the outdoor area for my pre-circle beer drinking, as did many of the other Hashers. Speaking of beer drinking, I had another example of my sense of taste being potentially altered–I did not like the flavor of my old favorite San Mig Zero. Kind of a bitter aftertaste, and even after several bottles, the flavor still sucked. Weird.

The AC was blasting inside, and I was still wet with sweat, so I made the decision not to participate in the circle. I did get called in to sit on the ice for my Hash crash which seemed out of order to me, and I groused about it some. Yeah, I wasn’t kidding that another aftereffect of this illness has been to make me grumpier than usual. Oh well, this, too, shall pass.

And so endeth another Hash adventure.