Date : 5th April 2003
Venue : Genting Road to Kuala Kubu Bahru (Malaysia)
Scribe : Nick Bloy
What a day! For everyone, it started early with alarms going off from 4.00 am. so that participants could get to the Cititel Hotel by no later than 5.30 am. to pick up the buses that would take them to the forested foothills of Genting Highlands for the start of the 3rd Hash Challenge 42 Km's including some of the toughest terrain imaginable--up to 13 hours of running, hiking, hobbling, wobbling and worse. Who were these apparent idiots? Some 150 men and women, milling around in serious running kit in the pre-dawn cool, under-dressed, over-excited (and over-hydrated judging by the numbers running in and out of the lobby loos) and over here in KL from Thailand, Singapore, Vietnam, Indonesia, Taiwan, and in vast numbers from Ipoh.
A moving sense of camaraderie pervaded the air as participants boarded the buses, everyone recognising the imposing and impending nature of the shared experience we were all about to undergo. That was until, at precisely 5.27 am, as the last bus was filling up, a cry of Aussie anguish cut the air "Where s me f******* team-mate, sport?" Team Blue Cow, of dubious Polish, French and Antipodean heritage, was missing a member. Adam still curled up in the land of Nod, sweet dreams, etc (which is where we all should have been. Ed.) had failed to hear his alarm. Frantic phone calls averted disaster and the last bus set off only 15 minutes late, with the driver determined to make up for lost time.
This effort was thwarted by the excessively tight and distracting running shorts sported by Magda which clearly caused so much unnatural abdominal pressure that an inevitable pee break was necessary a few Km's short of the start. Magda and number of males jumped out to find relief.
Strangely, given the extra manoeuvres required by Magda to a) find privacy, and b) peel off her shorts and c) do whatever else is necessary, she was not the last person back on the bus. However, the driver thinking that she was, set off only to be halted to re-open the doors to let in Jonathan. With a certain cocksure swagger, he apologised by explaining that he had a very large bladder (whereas the scribe thought silently that, more likely he had a very small passage through which to evacuate it). Anyway, enough of this trivia, the start area was upon us and dawn was breaking.
We disgorged from the bus onto a flat roadside site of uncertain application, and after stretching, hydrating, photographing and general bolloxing about, the Hash Challenge commenced with teams setting off sequentially to avoid unseemly bottlenecking.
It took 15 minutes to start the 36 teams in this manner and the reason soon become apparent the paper trail took runners almost immediately onto a narrow track that headed vertically up a slope that can only be described as less than a mountain, but much more than a hill". Single-file, the teams plodded uphill for what seemed like an eternity. Some teams tried desperate overtaking manoeuvres which were occasionally rebuffed by comments such as "oh, you re from Singapore are you?" etc. (But I thought it wasn t a race? Ed.)
Finally, the trail hit a peak approx. 1300 ft above which offered spectacular views. On reflection, one can only imagine that Hugh, the hare for this section, had to be helicoptered in and out to set the trail. But what goes up must come down, and suddenly the pre dawn rain that had cooled the air and made the uphill leg quite pleasant, revealed its downside; namely the slippery, slithering nature of the descent, for which skiing technique was more appropriate than anything else. Finally, the trail opened up onto a tiered rubber plantation and with space to spread out, runners leapt from terrace to terrace enjoying for the first time some unrestricted latitude. The first checkpoint soon followed. At this point, the pack had completed 8 Km's of serious hiking, running and sliding in approx. 11/2 hours faster than expected and a testament to the training and fitness of the participants.
The second section was the most uneventful, serving to lull the participants before what was to come next. It required a gentle canter through relatively flat terrain along a tarmac road, past the hot springs and the first chance to be reunited with the support truck with our extra gear. After that we galloped across a couple of rivers and up a gentle slope to the second waterstop.
The stop was set out in the open after a brief river crossing. The scribe is sure he was not alone in the thinking that things were going rather well the big peak had been conquered and the legs were feeling strong in fact, the whole thing was a bit of a breeze. The checkpoint even had bananas and watermelon a bit of a picnic, we thought. It is only with hindsight that one remembers the sadistic glint in Robin s eye as he let each team through the checkpoint and onto Section 3 of the run. And it all started so innocently--up an easy trail that rose gently from the valley floor. It rose and rose, and finally cut left into secondary jungle, the trail following a contour line. Not too bad, we thought, anticipating a nice downhill run to checkpoint 3, but the full horror of this section was about to unfold.
The scribe has vivid memories of the early part of the contour line traverse along a trail cut laterally across steep slopes and dropped into a small stream/gully that emerged from spooky shadowy foliage and plunged on downhill after the crossing point a bit of scramble into and out of the stream bed and 50 yards on, a check. Hmm the trail no longer existed. Was it a back check? Were back checks allowed in the Hash Challenge? No one was sure, but the front runners explored the easy options first. No paper. Hmm. Who was the hare for this section? Someone ventured that they thought it was Rambo ..!. Aha, and at this point, we somehow knew we might be in serious trouble.
The scribe does not know who broke the check (a male voice called on-on), but the sheer nature of the gully across which we had to traverse, made one respect his tenacity or doubt his sanity. As runners inched their way around the steep, slippery and somewhat rocky incline, one had to wonder WHAT THE F*CK WAS RAMBO THINKING? A slip here would likely result in broken bones. But, with the amazing clarity of vision and purpose that comes from being in dangerous situations, it seems that every runner negotiated the traverse without mishap. And a wonderful feeling it was to get to the other side. But having got there, where the hell actually were we?
No path, steep slope, jungle all around and a paper trail that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Bugger it no chance of going back at this point, so onward and upward And upward and upward. We did see some wonderful sights huge boulder formations covered in green lichen forming grottoes in which who knows what animals lurked . .possibly some serious felines apparently Rambo had seen tiger claw marks and detected their urine during his recces. And finally the peak, and sunshine, and views. And then sadly, another slippery descent. The trail down to checkpoint 3 was interminable, opening out into a gravely scree path, riven with ankle-breaking rainwater channels and, by now, the full effects of the mid-morning sun. Staggering into the checkpoint, all runners will no doubt remember Rambo welcoming us with a wolfish grin, and telling us that he had spent a cumulative 40 hours clearing the trail out of virgin jungle with a parang. The scribe doubts he was alone in thinking that, were there a parang at hand at that moment, Rambo would by now be cutting through jungle in The Great Hash Trail In The Sky. But sadly, no weapon could be found, and one s murderous impulses had to be subdued.
But we should all applaud the man for creating undoubtedly what was the most defining stretch of the Challenge.. he is a force of nature and we all benefited from his efforts.
Whereas the previous checkpoints had been swift affairs, checkpoint 3 was extremely leisurely as individuals recovered, and teams reconstituted. If not for the mosquitoes, a decent nap would have felt appropriate. At this point, The Masochists appeared to be the most motivated with a relatively quick turnaround. With Nan ushering them off, they seemed destined for victory . until that is, one noticed Paul (aka the Hash Shag) sporting a bare and trim torso, and a very dodgy hat. But more of which later.
The trail led down a tarmac road that cut down into a valley of rubber trees and into a river, the other side of which a check. The scribe s recollections of this section are somewhat befuddled, partly the after effects of the "Rambo Traverse", but more crowded out by his observations of a female runner and her husband undergoing a serious marital spat. Let s call her High Maintenance Woman (HMW) and him the Beleaguered Bugger (BB) for the scribe does not know their names (I know, but I'm not allowed to say Ed 2).
HMW was a tall, blond extremely fit and attractive filly Australian, possibly. Runners may remember her from section 1, overtaking like a native Singaporean and communicating by walkie-talkie to her team members. HMW had clearly been in serious training for months. Unfortunately, BB clearly had not, and was regularly harangued by his wife for letting the team down in person at each checkpoint, and over the radio during sections. During the fourth section, as we trotted through the tracks in a rubber plantation, she confided to the scribe that they were not longer talking. With marital relations at such a seriously low point, one wonders if things were ever patched up. If not, Paul Smith wants your mobile no.
Section 4 included some serious river bashing, and it makes sense to take a timeout from the chronological description of the Challenge to reflect on one of its constant themes.
A River Runs Through It.
Not the Brad Pitt movie about fly-fishing, but rather a reference to the way all manner of rivers and streams were woven into virtually every section of the Challenge. It is not easy to remember which type of river was crossed or followed in any particular section, but we enjoyed them all. There were mountain rivers, strewn with large boulders creating rapids and waterfalls, shoulder-deep in places and bubbling with cool, crystal-clear water that one could freely drink. There were smaller streams cutting through the trails throughout. And there were the rivers of the valley floor, more alluvial in nature. Runners were able to cool off frequently and avoid heat stroke. This more than offset the frustration of the constant removal of shoes to empty out river sand and the grit that grated underfoot. One team suffered more than others from the constant wetting the (very. Ed.) aptly-named F*ckwits. Terry had spent weeks agonising over the right choice of footwear for his team . Should he get the Banshee Royales by Adidas? (Terry s verdict: "great grip, nice colours for Sara, but prone to grit coming into the unconstructed sides"). Or the El Cheapo s also by Adidas? (Terry s verdict: "superb sole construction, lightweight uppers and go-faster stripes on the laces"). Terry went for the El Cheapo s and whilst it may have been true that the soles had great grip on one side, the sad fact was that they had water-soluble glue on the other. After 8 hours, the team s shoes had all but disintegrated, leaving them to flap their way home in record-slow time.
* * * * *
I think it was from a river that we emerged just before checkpoint 4, which was set up in the open on a small ridge and with a canopy thoughtfully strung up to provide shade. At this point, the temperature was reaching a peak, and much rehydration was required by all teams. At this point runners prone to cramp started to seize up and the medics (God bless em) were working overtime on massaging away the muscle spasms. It was not long after leaving the checkpoint that the trail entered what we had all hoping for. Finally, an oil palm plantation . How blissful this was flat, open running terrain under a canopy that allowed in sunlight, but cooled the air . surely Heaven is lit in the same way? At least that is how one felt on entering this section. Running in oil palm is very soothing . In addition to the open nature of the trails, there is an absence of mosquitoes and a general feeling of ordered nature. Nothing can go wrong in such plantations not that is, unless you happen to be Colin Hercus. Now Colin is a speedy runner and in the plantation section, he was giving full throttle this would prove to be a painful mistake.
We stumbled into checkpoint 5 on the bank of a river. This was the most beautiful refuelling point and all runners lingered here, cooling off in the water or enjoying liniment massages from the medical crew. Rick spent at least 30 minutes having his upper thighs massaged, feigning a groin injury and doubtless dreaming of Bangkok. But, particularly noteworthy was Colin s pitstop, which we all enjoyed.. Colin, having eschewed tight bicycle shorts in favour of a looser cockpit had apparently suffered friction damage to his manhood (Such as it is. Ed.) as it bounced around unfettered.
A discreet enquiry about whether any of the female medics would consider applying a dressing to his blistered member met with a surprisingly enthusiastic response (a wonderful sight was Colin having his tackle discretely dealt with by Rebecca-by-the-River and someone asking "Exactly what sort of endurance event is this?" Ed 2) and some serious sticking plaster was duly applied. Colin stoutly refused the offer of a Vaseline massage (rightly concerned about any residues of liniment on the medic s hands given the number of anti-cramp massages that had been dispensed) and continued without undue delay, but nagging questions remain .. how sticky was the sticking plaster? was Colin circumcised before its application? .. is he circumcised now? These are mysteries that may never be revealed (Thank God Ed).
It was in this section that the scribe had his own moment of lunacy, getting lost for over an hour and letting down his team-mates. It was a terrifying experience to be alone, disoriented, in serious steep jungle and without a fricking clue as to which direction to go. Thoughts of Jim "Tiger Chow" Thompson started to percolate through his tired brain. Only the fleeting glint of the river way down below prevented the scribe from remaining stuck overnight, at the mercy of who knows what. He slid down 200 ft into the river and finally found his wonderful team-mates Rick, Nancy and Nadia waiting at the final check point. Thank you to The Bride s Nighties (as in "we re off like the ." a more sophisticated version of Rapid Boleh) (I don t get it. Ed.) for waiting for me. And a message to all runners. NEVER STRAY OFF PAPER, PARTICULARLY ON A CHALLENGE.
The final section turned out to be the breeze we had hoped for a trail led into open meadows and to a check which was broken in a river bed. The only disconcerting aspect of the section was the severe thunderstorms and lightning that punctuated our checking. We headed up a couple of small hills and found ourselves on an old logging trail which climbed up for about 2 Km's. Towards the top of the hill, we saw a sign indicating only 2 Km's to the finish . the trail rose a little higher and FINALLY a gravity-assisted descent through a rubber plantation, round a small lake and suddenly people, cars, food, and most importantly the beer wagon Never was a sight more rewarding. As each runner and team appeared at the finish, warm applause would ring out in appreciation of the Challenge that had been completed.
And there sat Ilona, ticking off the teams as they finished. But who had finished first? (Not that it s a race. Ed). Blue Cow. WHAT YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS?! The last time the scribe saw Team Blue Cow was at checkpoint 5 with Magda complaining about a damaged toe nail, and the guys looking like they were ready for the undertakers. Only Pascale looked serene. What about Rapid Boleh and The Masochists? Well it seems that the former were marginally hampered by the final stamina of Ellen (but who amongst us would not have hampered this team?). (Scott says he wouldn t have! Ed.).
Despite the fact that either Sigi or Donal was the first individual runner home, the team was not placed first. And The Masochists? Well, this takes us back to Paul s hat was it an Akubra? or a Fedora? whatever it was, it s wide brim was about as aerodynamic as a brick and the scribe s back-of-the-envelope calculations show that for every Km Paul ran, he lost about 30 seconds in time despite having endured a full body waxing the day before.
So, although his team-mates, Dave, Christy and Opera, rumbled into the finishing area ahead of Blue Cow in a solid phalanx of wind-tunnel efficiency (Did you notice how short was Dave s haircut?), and the fact that Blue Cow WOULD have been pipped by Paul by a hat-adjusted time of 5 seconds, nevertheless Paul was still 20 minutes away. BLUE COW CAME IN AS A WHOLE TEAM and therefore won the event. Well done to them all, for the team members had trained hard for the event.
Scott was quick and noisy to point out to all and sundry that had he been running (he had recent surgery on his knee), he could have hopped on one-leg, blindfold and wearing Paul s hat, and still come in first. But I think all runners will share in the sentiment that there is 12 months of training time before the next Hash Challenge, that it is a team rather than an individual effort and that next year Scotty-boy will have to put up or shut up (and hopefully the latter Matt and Rick are already collecting donations to bribe Lea not to run with Scott next year and receipts are piling up).
Other notable finishes included the multiple IPOH-potamus teams, all of whom finished, with all runners coming in together with their team-mates, and thereby demonstrating the teamwork and discipline for which Ipoh-ites are famous. Well done to them all.
Team Phuket also deserves a mention. The team started fast, with a couple of the male runners emulating the Paul Smith bare torso look. Runners may have noticed this team exhorted on by a feisty, coloured American (I think) girl, who maintained good spirits throughout. And after a while, she needed all her reserves of humour, (exhausted those she didn't get her finishers T-shirt in the right size but at least we got a flash of Nan's perfect pointers when she took her own T-shirt off on the spot to hand over as a substitute- Ed 2) as her team-mates started to succumb to acute sunburn and heat-stroke. The irony was that the one team member who didn t need to cover up, did - and the ones that did, didn t. One has to wonder what they put in the water in Phuket.
* * *
What more can one report? The usual festivities followed in a well-organised way. Paul Kirkman pulled a few recalcitrants onto the stage for abuse . T-shirts and medals were dispensed. Amazingly, the number and percentage of teams and individuals that finished this year s Challenge was significantly higher than last year, so despite the committee s highly sophisticated statistical modelling, there were not enough finishers shirts/medals to go round.
Never mind .. because what this means is that the Challenge has become a landmark event, noted in diaries and trained for months in advance. At this point, it is appropriate to highlight the enormous gratitude that all runners should feel for the organisers of the event. If you have read this report this far, please read it to the end because without the commitment of the following extraordinary individuals, there would be no Challenge. Hopefully they will be encouraged to put on a similarly magnificent event next year.
SPECIAL THANKS TO
General Committee
Herr Dr Wolfgang von Drubber -- well known evil genius. Hash Challenge catch-phrase "Ve haf vays of making you valk!"
Ilona Finnibum -- Org Sec extra-ordinaire
Nan Hasacashbagai -- wallet lightener
Carlo "Bald & Frying" Pan-garzinio -- On-site & genset repairs
Adnan Osman Bin Laden Down With Barang -- Transport
Soh "egg" Yoke Chun -- greasy spoons / catering
Hares & Sweepers
Hugh Murray - John Dodgson - Paul Kirkman
Charles Lee / Rambo Chan Shirley Tan Dennis Chin Francis Chan / Frank Wijnands- Klaus Haschke Tony Kampen Robin Cox /Abraham Klok Kana - Nim Chee Yoong - Shan
Medics
Nina Abdul Rahman, Margret Lim, Rebecca Philippin, Mabel Pangrazio, Ima Druba
Water-stoppers
Peter Brooke / Rob Stott / Roloef Schoemaker / Patrick Russell / Peter Russell