Trash display
|
Shortcuts to the True Trail
| Open/close |
Run #137 - Sunday 18 April 1999 | |||||||||||||||
 And has a Hangover Run ...The sun rose lazily over Bømlo, on yet another splendid day. Well, it would have been a splendid day if there hadn't been so many clouds about. Not to mention the icy cold wind. Obviously the R.A. hadn't done his bit yet. Breakfast was the traditional Norwegian affair, although Foggy and Creepy went for the continental breakfast consisting of multiple triple Glen Grant Single Malt Whisky washed down with Bourbon. After breakfast the pack was mustered on the jetty and clambered on board the still pea-green little boat. The Hares it seemed had laid the trail on a nearby island, so BH3 had to set to sea yet again. After a 20-minute voyage, we reached the Treasure Island. The island didn't have anything as civilised as a jetty and after few tries we were set ashore and clambered up the steep cliffs, pregnant Harriet and all. Dog Handler had rummaged through his bag and cum up with the Hash Shit and Yogi was given the honour of wearing it for some reason I forget. It must be noted for the record that everybody was very understanding as to why Dog had kept the Hash Shit for himself so long: the night had been long, hard and very cold. The R.A. shouted "Let's leave Robin as crew so the boat won't drift off" or something similar. A bearded gentleman carrying a home-made parasol with a pink elephant on a leash emerged from the dense forest. He gave the Hashers a disgusted look, shouted "Never on a Friday" and promptly vanished in a puff of smoke (I think I'll stick to the Norwegian breakfast next time!). After some (soul) searching, what was taken to be the trail was finally located, and "ON-ON" called. The hares claimed that there had been so much snow when the trail was laid that the flour they used must have somehow magically disappeared. Hah, as if its snows in this part of the World in April! The trail was a very meandering affair leading us up and down steep cliffs, through knee-deep bracken and undergrowth, through marshes until we reached the highest point on the island where we had a short rest without the slightest hint of a drink stop. On our way back down again, Crapper was seen humping a tree. He later claimed he had done it to avoid falling down a sheer drop of 0.5 metres. Needless to say nobody believed the Wanker. After another stroll through a dark and damp forest, we arrived at the first and only drink stop. As there was no bar on the island the drink stop was a mobile affair. Yogi called "Beer Search" and set off in search of some beer he had previously hidden. Having sniffed out the goods, everybody settled to have a jolly good time. Abominator and Golden Clipper were observed sitting on the Hash during the drink stop, but both claimed to utilise hovercraft technology in order not to touch the stones! Telling from the greenish hue on the faces of the Hashers standing down-wind, this was probably true. Retracing our steps back to the boat, BH3 set off back to the cabin and the circle. Wallbanger probably thought he was going to be given a new handle as he and his good wife suddenly had to leave as they had a boat to catch (a likely story). Pizzaman and Creepy Crawly also departed leaving the hard-core of BH3 to take care of the circle and the down-downs. The weekend was rounded off with a rousing Hash Song (something, something, something, flap, flap, flap, something, something, something, flap, flap, flap) before the last group of Hashers headed for Mosterhamn to catch the boat back to Bergen, having concluded that it certainly had been a very memorable weekend.
| |||||||||||||||