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:
Another trail that I’m glad I didn’t have to do. Congrats on finishing it. Your July 4th plate looks good; you’ll recall I did surf-n’-turf for my crowd in May. My coworker tried to tell me he’d heard that surf-n’-turf was considered hackneyed in the culinary world; I say fuck the people who think that way. Surf-n’-turf rocks!
Hmm, I never heard of anyone disparaging surf-n-turf as hackneyed, but to each his own. I’ve always considered proper “turf” to be steak like you served, but I guess chickens walk on the same ground as cows, so it’s technically correct. I thought the presentation was nice, especially for what is a low-cost resto-bar. Not shown was a tasty salad and a delicious vegetable soup. It was a nice meal for under $10.