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.

The Corona Hash group from Angeles City did an outstation run here yesterday, and I was pleased to take part. I even did some of the trail, well, the part that ran through Alta Vista on the way to the Baloy Beach On-Home at Da’Kudos anyway. I did participate fully in the beer-drinking socializing and Hash circle rituals. A nice way to kill a few hours on a Sunday afternoon.

The Corona Hash rituals and songs are very similar to what we do here at the Subic Hash, so no surprises. Today is the SBH3 29th-anniversary run, and the Corona group will be there to participate in the festivities.

After the Hash, I was feeling a little hungry. Da’Kudos is the sister resort of Mango’s, so I asked about the pork chops I had been denied on Saturday. Yep, they were in stock.

After dinner, I caught a trike back into Barretto and had him drop me off at Kamto.

A few more beers, and it was past time for me to call it a night. But I wanted to make a quick visit to Outback to see my friend, Bhel. I was the only customer, and I felt sorry for the waitresses just sitting around looking forlorn. So, I rang the bell to buy everyone a drink. That’s always an indication that I’ve had too much to drink myself. Ah, well. It’s only money, and maybe it qualifies as an act of charity.

Finished my beer and headed back home for a good night’s sleep.

And here it is, Hash Monday. No rest of the weary, it seems. But then again, in the prophetic words of Tom Petty:

Yesterday’s Hash went well–lots of compliments on the trail, no one got lost, and no one was injured. Some of the hard-core guys were surprised that the trail was as challenging as it was. I told Pubic Head (Scott) as we marked the second hill that people aren’t going to believe you did this climb voluntarily. The skies were threatening in the early afternoon, but the rain held off until we had completed the Hash circle rituals.

During the circle, we honored Fucking Old Man for the rare accomplishment of completing 1000 runs. I just did the math in my head, and that’s at least 20 years of Hashing with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers (SBH3). Coincidentally, next week our kennel will celebrate its 29th anniversary.

We also named one of the gals I’ve been sponsoring (there are three) upon completion of her 5th run with the SBH3.

I’ll share some photos from the Hash trail later in this post.

When you Hare, you are not required to hike the trail you laid, although some Hares do. In fact, 18-Kilo Ass did that yesterday. We’d finished marking the trail at around 11:00. I went back to the VFW at 2:00 to give the Hashers last-minute guidance and then sent them on their way. I figured we would not see anyone back until 3:30 or so, so I took a walk to the Snackbar to kill some time. I was disappointed to see the Dick sitting outside, but I’m not going to be dissuaded from going where I want by some asshole. I went inside and had my first beer in a week. Bought all the girls an ice cream cone, had a second beer, then headed back to the VFW for the Hash circle.

By the time the circle was completed, I’d had a few San Miguel Zeros and wasn’t feeling the need for any more. The girls I sponsored were even drunker than I was and wanted me to join them for some after-Hash bar hopping fun. I declined and suggested to the drunkest one that she should go home. I even offered to pay her trike fare. She refused my offer, insisting she was okay. A few minutes later, she dropped her beer, and of course, the bottle shattered and sprayed its contents around. Shortly after that, she fell down on her ass. Well, I sponsored her, but I’m not responsible for her actions. I’d seen enough, though, and headed out. (For the record, she did message me this morning apologizing and saying she would refrain from overdoing it in the future. I respect that and tend to believe her.)

I decided to walk to Kamto and grab a bite to eat before heading home. But before I’d gone far, the skies opened up, lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the rain poured down on my umbrella-less head. I took shelter in the recently reopened Johansson’s. They didn’t have Zero available, so I did a Light. It wasn’t busy, and I didn’t know anyone there, so I entertained myself with my phone. And that’s where I encountered a beggar. She was relentless and didn’t want to take “no” for an answer. I know she had been drinking, but damn, I wasn’t in the mood, and I told her so, but she wouldn’t accept my refusal. I was actually getting quite perturbed, so I just ignored her continued entreaties.

Oh, one thing was different about this. She wasn’t asking for money. She wanted to come home with me. And as hard as it is to believe, I just wasn’t interested in what she was offering. Now, regular readers may be thinking that doesn’t sound like me, and yeah, I can’t really remember saying no to an otherwise attractive woman so clearly in the mood. Just goes to show that my “big head” still can veto the usually horny little head on occasion. (She also messaged me this morning and apologized for her “naughty” behavior blaming it on all the alcohol she had ingested and feeling overwhelmed by loneliness. I told her no apology was necessary; it just wasn’t the right time to get together.)

After my second beer, the rain let up, so I paid my tab and made a dash for Kamto. A couple of friends were there as well as the sexy and sweet bar staff. I ordered up some food (quesadilla and chicken wings) and a beer. I’d been there maybe thirty minutes when it occurred to me that the waitresses might be thirsty. I reached for my wallet to ascertain that I had sufficient funds for that act of generosity–and it wasn’t there! I checked all my pockets–nothing. Looked under my seat and on the floor–nope. Well, I had just used it at Johansson’s, so I must have left it on the bar after paying my tab there. I dashed out of Kamto and literally ran up the highway back to Johansson’s.

The bartender seemed surprised to see me back. I asked her if I had left my wallet there. “No, sir,” she told me. I looked around under my barstool and thought, “oh, shit. I’m fucked.” I had my credit card, a little cash, my Alien Registration Card, and some other stuff in there that would be a pain in the ass to replace. I decided to retrace my steps to Kamto on the slim chance that I might find it on the street. The bartender followed me outside as I began my search. I’d taken just a couple of steps when she called out, “what’s that on the sidewalk?” I’ll be damned; my black wallet was lying there soaked with rain. I picked it up, looked inside, and all the contents were intact. I must not have placed it securely in my pocket and it fell out unnoticed not far from the door as I exited. That was dumb. I was lucky that no one had walked by and noticed it on the sidewalk (most people walk on the shoulder of the road).

It was quite a relief, and I was glad to be free from the burdens that would have ensued trying to replace my shit. Back to Kamto, bought the drinks for the girls, ate my food, and triked home, resolved to be smarter and more careful in the future. Could be I’ve used up all my luck.

To the Hash pics then:

So, that’s how things went down before, during, and after the Hash. Is there a common denominator?

As Fridays go, yesterday was a good one. And I’ve got the pictures to prove it. Oh, if you don’t like hiking photos, scroll on down for the pics from the SOB dance contest. If you don’t like sexy Filipinas either, you are on the wrong blog!

First, let’s take a gander into the future, shall we? Next Monday, I’ll be Hareing with Scott and Martin. It was sunny yesterday, and the forecast is not showing any rain on Monday either, so we tweaked our planned trail to include a hill and some off-road trekking.

A nap, a shower, then I was off to the Whiskey Girl bar for the SOB. I was pleasantly surprised to hear from Lydell, my favorite Snackbar waitress, asking if she and fellow waitress Heidi could attend the SOB with me. Come on down!

Alright, you want to see the dancers. I get it. Well, none of my photos came out (too dark), but I lifted these from the sponsor’s Facebook page:

All of the teams put on a nice show, and I had an enjoyable evening, especially since I had company. We all went to the Aftermath party at Wet Spot at the conclusion of the contest. I was doing my best to moderate my gin intake, but going non-stop from 4:00 until 9:00 put me higher on the inebriation scale than I like to be. Made it home safe and alone. As usual.

Back at it this morning with my solo Barretto walk.

I made a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies this morning. I hadn’t done that in a long time. I had more dough than space on my cookie sheet pan, so the glops of batter turned into one giant cookie. No big deal, I just cut them into squares, and they tasted fine.

At lunchtime, I pulled the ingredients for some burritos out of the fridge.

And that is where things stand as of now. It’s fixin’ to be Saturday night, and I’ve got a bunch of SOB raffle coupons to spend before they expire. Damn, I’m retired, but it feels like I’m working in the bars these days. Hmm, maybe if I call it a hobby instead. Yeah, that’s the ticket! I’m retired and pursuing a hobby in my free time.

Life is good!

What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Or gave my heart a song.

But oh, to her I loved
Who loved me not at all,
I owe the little open gate
That led thru heaven's wall.
--Sara Teasdale

Just an old poem I came across today via Facebook memories. Don’t read too much into it. Yeah, I’m not feeling loved these days, but I’m okay with that. Mostly.

I’m always slow on the Hash trail, normally near the back of the pack. Yesterday, there was an older guy I didn’t know in our sane group, and he was so slow he made me look like a runner. Now, the ethos of the Hash is that it is to each his own, the trail is marked so anyone can follow it, and you are welcome to set your own pace. For whatever reason, I felt responsible for this guy, so I hung back to make sure he found his way and didn’t get hurt. It felt like I spent as much time standing around waiting for him to catch up as I did hiking.

About halfway through the trail, I elected to take a shortcut. I usually do that to avoid a difficult climb, but this time my motivation was to shorten our hike because we were moving so slowly. And once I deviated from the marked trail, there was no way the slowpoke was going to find his way back without my guidance. Anyway, it was a little frustrating, but the guy thanked me afterward for hanging back with him. And honestly, if I were Hashing with a group I didn’t know, I’d hope someone would care enough to keep their eyes out for me. On-On!

After Hash, a few of us went up the road to Johan’s for some more beers. Then I got a message from my friend inviting me to join her at Snackbar. How could I say no?

I feel like on the cusp of something; I’m just not sure what it is. Nothing to do but stick around and find out what happens next. Y’all are welcome to follow along right here.

I made some poor choices yesterday, including the one to attend the Hash. Nothing against the Hash; it’s just that the first pool party in over three years was being held at Treasure Island during the same time frame. Well, I’ve got something like 130 consecutive Hash runs, and I wasn’t ready to break my streak just to look at sexy girls in bikinis. But I shouldn’t have been so quick to ignore the fact that Vienna Sausage (Guenter) was the Hare. No one to blame but myself for the subsequent misery.

The trail began at the end of Rizal Extension. There’s no easy way to get there, and now that the Hashmobile is deceased, we were on our own to reach the starting point. Of course, walking is one method of transport, but it’s a long hard slog uphill. In fact, it is so steep that some trikes don’t have the power to reach the top. From my house, the shortest path is to go over the mountain via the My Bitch trail, and that’s what I did. It took me a hard forty-five minutes to reach my destination, and I was hot and tired when I arrived.

And then the fun began. Vienna described the trail as “6K with a few humps.” It felt much longer than that, and those humps equated to four hard climbs and steep downhills. Not to be completely negative, it was mostly new territory for me, and that’s something I usually enjoy. The problem was I wasn’t familiar enough with the area to be able to discern a saner course of action by shortcutting.

After the first hard up and slippery down (there was a light rain falling early on), we came to a decision point–climb again or take a flat route on the streets to the On-Home venue (also Vienna’s house). Half the sane group took the easy way, but I stubbornly chose to go on, thinking I’d shortcut from up top if needed. That choice proved to be ill-advised. After another tough uphill slog, the trail almost immediately turned back down. My visions of finding a shortcut were misguided, so I had no choice but to plod onward. And what awaited me at the bottom was yet another climb to the top. And guess what? Yep, the trail once again descended. Nope. Not me. I had a pretty good idea that if I continued upward just a little bit more, I’d intersect with My Bitch. Turns out I was right about that. From there, I knew where I could pick up the trail again without any more ups and downs.

And that’s how it turned out. I was one of the last Hashers to reach Vienna’s house, and I was soaked in sweat and in a decidedly foul mood. Again, this is all on me. The Hare has every right to lay a path of his choosing, and I can choose to follow it or not. My inability to recognize viable alternative routes early on is my failure. I won’t be sucked in with talk of “humps” in the future. Lesson learned.

I had three San Mig Zeros before the beginning of the Hash circle and then was informed that there were no more Zeros in the ice chest. I switched to SML (twice the alcohol and twice the calories), had one, said “fuck it,” and made an early departure from the Hash. So yeah, I only had four beers all night. I went to Kamto for some grub and switched to gin and sodas.

Alright, now that I have all that off my chest, let’s go to the pictures.

So, let’s conclude with something positive–I’ve got a new plan to cut out drinking:

Sorry to disappoint, but this is a Hash post. My usual deviant behavior posts will resume tomorrow.

Yesterday’s Hash trail was okay, at least the part us “sane” Hashers completed. A moderate climb early on, then mostly just street walking back to the On-Home at Treasure Island on Baloy. Admittedly, we did bypass the portion of the trail that included another long climb and a longer hike back to the beach. We also avoided having to wade through a shit creek. A couple of Hashers that normally do the long trail gave up rather than immerse themselves in toilet water. I honestly don’t understand what the Hares were thinking; there are better ways to get to where they were going. Anyway, here are some photos from the journey:

I went to the Snackbar after the Hash for a few more beers. The girls there were as nice as ever, but I’m getting bored with it all now. Time to change it up. Stay tuned.

The Hares, Leech My Nuggets, Vienna Sausage, and Fuck A Duck laid a well-marked and quite impressive trail, featuring a 10+K long version and a 6+K version more suitable for us “sane” Hashers. There was even a portion that was new to me, something that I appreciate but is becoming pretty rare after 200 runs.

As usual, I’ll tell the story of the Hash run in pictures:

There were a couple of glitches–the food arrived late, and the beer ran out early; that’s the way it goes sometimes. Since I hadn’t gotten my fill of beer when the Hash was over, I hoofed it out to the Snackbar for a couple more.

Alright, I know most of you don’t come here to see pictures of me.

And then eight o’clock was approaching, so I paid my tab and caught a trike to take my soggy ass home where it belonged.

Run #1499 of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers is in the books. Feedback on the trail I helped Hare was positive for the most part. Next week’s Hare, Leech My Nuggets called it a “pussy trail” but conceded it was well-marked. A few Hashers missed a critical junction, but others said they had no trouble finding it. The folks that like challenging climbs didn’t get one, but 7K pushed the boundaries for people used to shorter hikes. The truck ride out to the start was crowded and very uncomfortable, not to mention unsafe. I’ll be pushing the idea that we should hire Jeepneys for transportation at our next leadership meeting.

It was an interesting experience walking my own trail the day after we had laid powder, paper, and chalk to show the way. In my view, we did an adequate job, but there were places I thought the marking could have been clearer. I still believe there is value in making an initial trail setting the day before the Hash and then doing a follow-up on the morning of the Hash. That way, you could refresh powder where it had been washed or swept away and clear up any ambiguities in showing the intended path. I wasn’t able to convince my fellow Hares of the value of this approach, so perhaps in the future, I’ll be making the second trip alone. It’s all good; just looking for ways to provide the best experience possible for my Hashing brothers and sisters.

To the photos then:

Not that kind. This is a Hash post. Sorry to disappoint.

I was anticipating a challenging trail, and Guenter didn’t disappoint. And that’s just the half of it. Our “sane” group elected to bypass this first portion of the trail that featured a climb to the top of Kalaklan ridge on a path everyone calls “motherfucker”. No thanks! Even so, the remaining portion featured two climbs and steep descents. In fact, the last down I hadn’t attempted since my virgin Hash way back when. Yesterday was a good reminder of why. Anyway, I lived to tell about it, so let’s get on with the story in pictures:

After the circle, I stopped by for a couple more beers at IDM. Then I popped into Sit-n-Bull to get some takeout.

In unrelated news, I didn’t lose any weight this week. Go figure.

Survived another week on the Hash trail. This one really wasn’t so bad. A challenging climb with lots of steps early on, then a steeper than normal descent. After that, practically a walk in the park. The overcast skies also kept the heat down some, that was a plus!

We did a new On-Home venue, a place called Yero’s, on the Subic side of the river. It was an outdoor resto-bar setup, which I prefer these days. The food was surprisingly good too. If it were more convenient to home, I’d likely be a frequent visitor.

As usual, we’ll let the pictures do the talking:

So, that’s the way we rolled yesterday. Hope you enjoyed sharing the ride.

It’s that time of year again. HOT season. It’s always summer weather here, but this is when you can really feel the heat. I know it is searing when I find myself longing for the rainy season. That’s just around the corner, and it will be good to complain about being wet and muddy again.

Amid the sweltering summer of Cape Canaveral, when the relentless heat has everyone yearning for the relief of the coming rains, there’s a group of individuals whose steadfast presence provides its own form of reassurance. Among them is a long-time family friend, whose role in fire watch security in Cape Canaveral is rarely in the spotlight yet always on alert. As we all look forward to the season’s change, he reminds us of the comfort found in preparedness and the peace of mind that comes with knowing professionals are ensuring our safety against the risks that heatwaves bring. His dedication is a silent sentinel against potential fire hazards, allowing us to enjoy our summer moments with a little less worry and a little more gratitude.

Well, the Hash goes on, rain or shine. And so did I. Granted, I only did a portion of the Hare’s intended path, opting instead to follow a trail more suited to the heat index. All in all, it was still a pretty good hike. Sweaty, but nice.

There was a Hash meeting to attend prior to the start of the Hash. We finished that meeting at 1:30, so headed out right afterward. That meant the remainder of the “sane” group not at the meeting were on their own. They all seemed to do alright.

When the Hash was done, a lot of us made our way to It Doesn’t Matter for some after-Hash revelry.

That young lady in the background is Armie, my waitress last night. She was also one of the contestants in the Fralics beauty pageant. She’s about the cutest girl in town and has a very sweet personality. Sadly (for me), she also has a boyfriend.

Well, I’ll confess to having a tad too much to drink last night. Just one of those days where I was in the mood to let it go. But, I had the good sense to make one last stop before heading home.

I’m also happy to report that I did not leave my cake in the trike like I did the last time I tried to bring dessert home with me.

I’m also ashamed to admit I forgot to bring my backpack home from It Doesn’t Matter. Didn’t even realize I had left it behind until I got a message from Scott saying that my upstairs neighbor, Joanna, was bringing it home with her. Thanks again, you two.

Let’s go, Brandon!

…I conquered survived.

A successful afternoon going up, over, and down the other side of Easter mountain. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as hard as I expected and remembered. That could be a manifestation of the Hares having found a more hiker-friendly way to the top. Which is not to say the climb was not difficult–it was. The steep downhill may have even been harder than the up; it was certainly more potentially treacherous. I slipped a few times but never lost my feet. Since I lived to tell the tale of my adventure on Easter mountain, let me get to it. And since a picture is worth a thousand words, this post will be almost book-like. Only better!

Given the special nature of the hike and the length and difficulty of the trail, the start time was moved up one hour to 1:30. And since the “sane” group always gets a headstart on the hardcore guys, we made arrangements to leave at 12:30. Since the VFW is right around the corner from Sit-n-Bull, I figured grabbing some lunch before the ordeal was a good idea.

Wolfed that burger down and then headed over to the VFW and loaded up in the Hashmobile for the ride out to the trailhead.

But wait! The fun wasn’t over yet.

And just for the record, I have confirmed that the mountain we call Easter is in reality known as Mount Batulao. You’ll always be Easter to me though.

UPDATE: Forgot to post the Relive video. Here it is:

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
We Hashed a trail that Guenter do
It wasn't long but it was hard
And when we got done, we was tired

Alright, I won’t quit my day job, but that verse did come to me while I was marching along yesterday.

Vienna Sausage (Guenter) was indeed the Hare for Hash run #1492. While the trail was over mostly familiar terrain, the “new world” to which I refer was doing a Guenter trail in its entirety. Granted, I took the short option (just under 3K) but this Hare doesn’t know the meaning of the word easy. The ups were all steep and so were the downs. And he managed to incorporate several of each jam-packed within a short distance. Still, I got through it alive and the miracle of miracles, I actually kind of enjoyed it. Will wonders never cease?

A good day to be on trail. Next Monday, we do our annual ascent of Easter mountain. I’m not exactly looking forward to that hellacious climb, but I want to do it at least once more in this lifetime, so I’ll give it a shot.

Darts tonight and more to come tomorrow.

There are other things going on today and I’ll write about them later. For now, let me post the photos from yesterday’s Hash.

Sorry for such a lame post. Not sure what my afternoon holds in store for me today and wanted to at least share the highlights from yesterday. I am in the midst of a small adventure. I will write about that soon.

Meanwhile, here are a couple of memories Facebook found worthy to share this morning:

That’s all for now. Stick around, it might get interesting.