|
HARE: |
Marlies Tjaden |
|
CO-HARE: |
Patrick Russell |
|
VENUE: |
Genting Valley |
|
SCRIBE: |
John Castleman |
Good Directions, although some guests found the directions via Lucky Light (which Lucky Light?) confusing.
More than 70 hashers gathered by the river awaiting the call to hills.
Co-Hare Patrick made a dramatic wet but quite illegal appearance before the run to brief the assembled throng. “Not a short run….and 2 quite big hills”
Thanks (?) Patrick, but why? Why did we need to know it was not a short run and there would be 2 hills? ….I’ve been running with Petaling for over twelve years and that’s standard fare, I would say.
OK then the water warning! Clearly we would be running far from the lovely brook and we didn’t want thirsty hashers de-hydrating.
4.10 sharp and the pack was loosed. The road runners took to the bitumen while the coyotes trotted along a bush track above the river, then down to the water where we were presented with a bank check.
A few crossed the river here only to find themselves at the back when ON ON was called down the river. The trail crossed the river then meandered through bamboo up a gentle incline to Check 2 near a hut with some mildly amused locals.
Soon we were onto the first hill, a steady climb along a pleasant green track. The third check marked the turning point on hill 1.
Here we headed back down to bamboo again and over a small valley onto a very green trail at Check 4. The trail was broken up a lovely green track up through rubber to the right.
Slowly the pack, other than Rob Stott, became aware that this was Hill2. The calling became less and the panting increased. As we neared the top, I paused to admire the brilliant little red flowers that grow at the base of the ginger. The diversity of these forests is amazing, young bamboo among the ginger, tall bamboo softly waving in the breeze, bananas, rubber trees, ferns and those young spiky palms.
The 5th Check was near the house with the green wire fence which we ran below. Somewhere here I came across Mia performing a lively dance running her hands over her boobs and inside her bra. The cause was Karanga, for those unaccustomed to the stranger sights on the hash, those gutsy little red ants which do hand stands on their heads while taking a bite on your tender parts, have caused more than the occasional ants dance. You have to kill them and prise them off one at a time and still find a few inside your shirt or hair after a run.
Then as promised, we commenced a long downhill run down leafy paths, occasional terraces and finally across a shiggy creek. Running just before me was Estee, who blithely strode across a well puddled, pugged, bed of mud.
A scream and plop sound and she dove face first into the mud pack.
Will we see Estee Lauder cosmetic counters offering shiggy facials and jungle mud-packs?
The last bit of the run from the 7th Check was a bit boring, had to concentrate on the ground for sticks and trips while wending way back to the river.
The final crossing was a delight, cool but not cold water, which was almost refreshing enough as bodies plunged into the clear and cleansing waters.
The final touch though was the co-hare appearing with a crate of cold tigers.
Aah, Malaysia doesn’t get much better than this. A cold beer in a cool refreshing stream. Well, maybe the water melon up at the beer truck wasn’t too bad either.
First runners in were Francis Chan then Colin Hercus, round about the 90 minute mark.
CIRCLE:
Service mugs for Tee (15 years) and Patsy (10 years). Shouldn’t we all get a mug for that!
The clubs new Zimmer Award first frame-up was presented to Charles (KY) Lee.
Sinners’ down downs and awards were showered on the mud wrestlers, Jimmie Legget, Paul Smith, Patrick Russell and (Sunglasses) Kiasu.
ON ON.
The OnOn was at the new Lucky Light (or was that Lucy Lite) restaurant back on the road to Batang Kali. At the lights which count backwards. (wonder if the Batang Kali kids can count forwards? )
Kiasu and 9 virgins were down-downed.
T shirts came off until all were properly attired.
We saw a couple of torso
and Marlies even more so.
Mug holders from Puget Sound were presented by a guest who also offered an anatomical song. Directions on finding the right bathroom and what to do if finding oneself or some-one else’s self in the wrong bathroom were given.
Heart-Breaker, Wolfgang and Kwan were also on downed but I can’t remember what for. The food was excellent Gwailo food and the restaurant (who also do local food we’re told) was given a round of applause.
Thanks Marlies for an excellent virgin hare performance and most enjoyable hash.
Venue : Bukit Cahaya
Hare : Jimmy Legget
Co-Hare :
Scribe : Paul Smith
Five Go Hashing!
It was fairly typically a damnably warm day as the new GM bade “On On” under cloudless skies and set of another years Hashing with Petaling. A few metres down the metalled road and it was ‘on right’, immediately setting off up a steep hill. “What sort of a stupid Hare would start a run like this?”(Up a hill, in a location at the foothills of the Central Malayan Range [hills big enough to cause, bi‑annually, monsoons in India!] and in the midst of a country where hills are quite often the norm as soon you step off the road………..! Obviously a twat?)
“This is a jolly tough hill” suggested Saru, exhaustedly, after the first hours clambering on all fours.
“I think so too sweetings” agreed Roger agreeably. “In fact its sooooo big I feel we ought to measure it!”
With that, it was new GM Terry to the fore, replete with PHHH official measuring tape to determine the validity of the offending hill.
“7.53 metres” declared a tired but indignant GM, “and that, according to Petaling Rule 637A, Sub Section C, makes this hill illegal!”
A sombre silence pervaded.
“Illegal by 6.53 metres actually” intoned Opera, Petalings favourite son.
With that the ruling was made to avert the hill.
“Thank goodness for that” agreed Chai Fling “I’m frightfully tired. That Hare is simply a rotter!” she continued bleating as the pack wound its way back down the contravening hill in a generally relieved manner.
Ten minutes, and 9 metres later, Opera stumbled on the first check, beside a charming, crystal clear stream. After sitting down en‑masse, and spending 3 hours waiting for Opera to break the check on his Jack Jones, the pack heard Opera call the ‘On’ from over the stream.
“Bridge!” requested Saru expectantly, but sharply. “Where’s the bridge?!”
After spending half an hour checking 10 metres both upstream and downstream no bridge was found.
“According to Rule 8209G, Sub Section 34” advised Terry, “the Hare is under full obligation to provide a device (may or may not be a bridge of stone/wood/steel construction) to allow the Hash to continue on its somewhat sedentary way. Failing that it’s the Big Black Men.”
At that the four Big Black Men who had been sitting amiably beside the stream, watching the Petaling HHH charade, stood up and approached the pack. By simply loading each member of the pack in a Ministry Approved back pack specially designed for carrying unfit, spastic‑like, fat‑bastard, overly‑mature Hashers through 3cm deep torrents the Big Black Men soon had PHHH on its sloth‑like way again, much to the disappointment of Chai Fling, who was particularly fond of Rule 8209G, Sub Section 34’s alternative solution (and who said Petaling was inflexible?).
Another 30 metres and it was check #2, arrived at by a somewhat spiteful, if not downright vindictive, circular around a sapling. This time, no matter how long the pack sat on it’s collective fat arse and waited, Opera just couldn’t break this dastardly check, despite checking for distance’s up to 8 metres towards the horizon.
“That’s it. I’ve HAD IT!” exploded the new GM, injury being added to insult by his dummy striking him on the hip after rebounding off the tree onto which he was clinging for dear life. “That Jimmy Legget is just trying to ruin my year before its started! Rotter! Rotter! Rotter! ” he opined vociferously whilst stamping his feet in a futile, puerile, juvenile, senile, PHHH‑like manner.
“I think he’s a rotten sport,” agreed Roger, agreeably.
It was then that Saru brought down a powerful silence upon the Hash (except Opera who was still checking all the way round on the other side of the sapling.)
“I’ve had enough of that sod‑dodder Legget. I’m going to short‑cut back to the cars.”
What should have been a shocked silence, but was actually completely the norm coz it happens every week, was just another admission of the triumph of age over matter.
“But that may be dreadfully dangerous darling” suggested Roger, a tinge of panic working its way into his high pitched, schoolboy‑like voice. “You may have to traverse ‘a very severe old logging trail (?) that is dry but is covered with fine sand and pebbles. It may be difficult not to be out of control as you make your way to the bottom’ or get eaten-up by a frightful thing or be out‑partied by a 60 year old Superstar Co-Hare called Arsehole!”
“No, Saru is quite right” considered the new GM. “Rule 3098, Sub Section 43, para 19; ‘If you are a runner of questionable ability and fitness, and find yourself cut off from the rest of the pack after 7:30PM, under no circumstances stay on paper. You should make your best effort to determine the completely wrong direction (preferably down a sound‑proof ravine with a particularly nasty rocky stream awaiting you in the pitch ‘kin black) wait till it is indeed pitch ‘kin black and fuck off in that general direction just as fast as your podgy little legs’ll take you there!’”
“No Roger, I’ll be just fine. The cars are just there.” Saru pointed out, indicating the cars some 30 metres away, cars which had never actually disappeared from view throughout the whole Hash! So, with Ramli watching the whole sad debacle whilst leaning against the beer wagon in a disconsolate manner, sadly shaking his head, the pack decided, like it did every week, that enough is simply enough and wandered back to the beer wagon after 6 minutes away from it to talk about the good old days when PHHH could actually get up a reasonable sized hill without complaining more than Jews getting off trains at Auschwitz!
But after 46 100+’s each (once it had been established that all present were paid up 49 years in advance) the pack started to recuperate, stopped passing the oxygen bottles between each other and started on the Sherry and Babycham’s.
Another simply splendid PHHH day and all home and wrapped up in bed by 7:30PM! Spiffing – just fuckin’ Spiffin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??
PHHH – Your chance to Hash with WUZZIES!
Venue : Hulu Langat
Hare : Paul Smith
Co-Hare : Winstanley Scribe
Scribe : Saru
It was a hot day, as it has been recently, and we were going to a runsite that should be banned. This particular runsite is located in an area of many many mountains and only a few valleys. It has a history of nearly destroying some well known hashers. The only saving grace is that a rumor has been floating around that the U.S. Navy will be attending. I miss Roger but he is gone so what is a little girl to do……….
Arriving at the turn-off to the runsite there is supposed the “one and only” hash sign. However, this “one and only” hash sign is well hidden and some of our members drive past. Maybe Issac needs to buy new glasses for Gail the Navigator. The always willing to help Rambo finally put up a proper sign when he arrived. I doubt if that helped the Kirkman Klan as Nancy had loaded their carriage with swimming gear and was trying to navigate Paul to Ulu Renning where I set my run last week. None of this is a good beginning.
We drive towards the end of the road (as instructed) through what might be a Malay Reserve. It is making me nervous because this does not look like a good area to be drinking large quantities of beer and singing those horrible hash songs. What to do lah? This is Paul Smith’s big day. Most of us drive to the end of the road (as instructed) where the only shade is. However, a spot has been reserved for the Beer Truck approximately ⅔ of a kilometer away. We have to trudge back up the hill to leave our keys and partake of some cold water. Ah yes….the Navy has arrived and they are a fit and handsome looking lot. However, it appears Mei and Elaine have already pounced on them. No worry……there are plenty of them and Roger is gone……..what’s a little girl to do?
Our handsome and wonderful GM gives a warning it is a tough area and may be a long run. Stay on paper, drink lots of water. He sets us off promptly at 4:30 pm. I just admire that GM so much…..he is definitely wonderful.
It is a grind up the hill at the very beginning of the run. What kind of stupid Hare would start a run like that? The front runners who took off in storm have soon slowed to a gentle walk. At the top of the hill the first check is found. After a brief search paper is found leading down a plantation road to the left. The front runners roar off again and most of us follow at a more gentle pace. After a couple of hundred meters the paper runs out and it is determined this is a very long (and illegal) false trail. Back up the hill where someone finds paper leading off to the right. It is now a bit of bashing through the jungle, down a road, up a hill, more jungle bashing and up another hill. However, the pack is together and we are doing a lot of single filing up the continuous hills and through the bush. After a couple of more checks we find ourselves going down a very severe old logging (?) road that is dry but is covered with fine sand and pebbles. It was very difficult not to be out of control as we make our way to the bottom. Needless to say – it was back to the top of another hill.
At the top of this hill we had a spectacular view. We were four levels above Taman Agroteknologi Road. I knew where we were. We were several kilometers and two very large mountains from the runsite. What was amazing was the pack was going down these four levels of grass embankment – most on their butt. They were crossing the paved road and continuing on into the jungle on the other side of the road which was very definitely away from the runsite. This was one hour into the run. Our beloved GM had been right – the bastards were trying to kill us today.
Not everybody was doing this. In the far away distance we could see Graham Davidson running down the paved road in the wrong direction. Evidently, as it turns out, he had paper – but it was the wrong paper. Eventually he ran all the way down Taman Agroteknologi to the Main Road; made a right hand turn; ran a few hundred meters to the turn-off to the runsite and ran back to the runsite on the same road he had driven on to the runsite. This only added about 8.5 kilometers to an otherwise long run. That’s OK…..he’s a well known front runner and deserves what he gets.
Meanwhile the rest of us went down the four levels of the embankment on our precious, soft and tender butts crossed the road and proceeded to follow paper into the jungle on the other side – which I state again was going away from the runsite. Gads it’s going to be a long run today. I am out over an hour and we are still going away from the runsite. (I miss Roger). We crossed the stream, came back to it, went down the stream, out of the stream, back in the stream, down the stream, out of the stream and back into the stream. I lost count of the number of times we went in and out of that bloody creek. We passed by and through the resort which were very busy with guests – most of whom found us an unusual sight. I suppose we were since most of us were knackered and dying of thirst. Those carrying water would not share – I am going to report them to Roger. He will beat the dawg excrement out of them for being so mean to this little girl. However, I did get some “personal” assistance from the U.S. Navy but proper decorum prohibits further discussion about that hot and spicy moment.
We went to the bloody end of that creek and finally got out for the final assault on the two mountains that had to be crossed before we reached the safety and security of the runsite. It was at this point that most of us took the opportunity to clean the sand and mud from our shoes and socks. While I was cleaning my gear the late arriving John Lavelle came roaring by – he had heard the U.S. Navy included one front running Bimbo and was determined to get a look at it. Not to be out-done the late arriving Chu Chu came trotting by looking for the Navy.
It was up the first mountain (another grind) and down a valley and then up the final mountain where we found ourselves on the first false trail. Some hashers felt they were on the Out Trail and were worried about making a second round of the run. One in particular was arguing loudly with Issac who was tired and did not want to put up with too much at this point. In a moment of deep frustration he turned and said, “Dammit Patsy – just stay on paper !!!!”.
Everybody finally got home. First runner (U.S. Navy) 1 hour 55 minutes with Soo and Emila finally coming around 8:00 pm. Definitely a Ten Weeker.
The lovable GM conducted the normal circle with a few Down-Downs. The only thing really different was a name ceremony for one of the Navy lads. The GM graciously allowed visiting GM Harelip of the traveling U.S. Navy do the honors. It was then on to the restaurant.
Total beer consumption at the runsite was 11 crates. Not bad for such a long run. Financially I guess it was OK because we had 23 beer paying Guests.
The restaurant was a bit of a Madhouse. We were at seven tables (maybe eight – a bunch) adjacent to the restaurant kind of in the parking lot. Food was OK and probably well subsidized as we only had to pay Rm 10. On Cash Emila was in good spirits and as part of farewell to being On Cash she had two tables lined up with beers for the final circle. The Hares were duly recognized and Paul Smith was given the Toilet Seat which he proudly wore the remainder of the evening. I think he enjoyed it. This guy is definitely different. There was a virgin runner from Thailand that during the course of the run had kicked the GM. Unfortunately she had kicked him with new shoes. It is a strange world. She had come with Dave Settingin but Opera had brought the new shoes. They each had a beer from the new Nike Drinking Vessels – which included an egg. Oh yes…..no doubt about it. Colin King was in rare form. He had to call for additional eggs a couple of times and the last I saw they were sending them out by the crate. One egg in a beer? Oh no – it was two and sometimes three eggs into the beer.
It was a tough long run. But it was much merriment afterwards. All in all a very good night. We will see how Paul does in ten weeks.
Your Scribe,
Saru
P.S. A personal thanks to the U.S. Navy boy with freckles on his butt that made the evening “memorable”.