Himalayan Mixed Hash Run No. 1598 13 Jun 2009
Location by the quarry below Chobar Village Hares Hoi Sin, Supersuction,Miranda, and Liz
Hashers 41, of whom 13 paid for beer Hashit Supersuction
Trash StripTies Trashflash Rotter, Frozen Stiff
Remarkables virgins: Shristi Shrestha, Robina Cole, Santosh Shrestha, David Amsalem, Babu Ram Acharya, Phil Perry returnees: Jackie, Ram Prasad, Ritesh, Anke leavers: Diana, Robert
The Pictures The Trash

Video: entering the Chobar Temple

For those with poor visualisation skills, Supersuction uses models to illustrate the marking method

And straight off down into the quarry, where the lead runners missed out at least half of the Hares' jiggles

Early check with Deathly Dame

Hares all

Virgins in Abundance

David earns the instant Hash Name 'In and Out'

Leavers Robert and Diana (the one who could not be named, although we did try hard)


Supersuction looks forward to a week's fondling

Off the beaten path; through the midst of town on a motorcycle... Yea, sure, some experimentation is enjoyable once in a while. Keeps the hash fresh. We're not AGAINST experimentation. But after one of those HeBitch (and Jo/Jannie/Jenny, people keep forgetting that) hashes, we hashers do crave some dependable fun for a change.

And that was what we got! Set by familiar, rock-solid hashers: the Major, SuperSuction, Miranda, and .. forgot your name, sorry! Just between the quarries at Bhutkhel. At a familiar and safe spot. No way to motorcycle yourself out of this one. Just one beacon of fear in plain view. The White House was luring, but after recent antics, white-house horrors of past seem like a walk in the park. An uphill park, mind. Keeled Over did offer the route as an alternative run, but no-one really listens to Keeled.

The troupe was nice and young. For hashers that is. That's nice. Quite some virgins as well. Just refreshing I say. The run started off vertical enough. We ran right into the quarry proper, and forced ourselves up towards where the excavation of whatever was excavated started, only to have to walk down again. Such is the hash. Them virgins got a taste of what they got themselves into.

And they got themselves into luscious green scenery. With nice mountains as a backdrop. The White House still looming, but I for one knew the hares didn't have the balls (how did you know that? - GM)! At some point we veered to the left, as was predicted by whisperings in our midst. OK, so the hills were out, and in their heads the veterans were connecting the remaining major landmarks with dotted lines.

But that didn't distract from the fun. It was a classic Hash in more ways than one. The Scholars/Hole-in-one tandem was in place again. They whizzed past the mid-team in alternating, but characteristic formations and patterns. As did Liquor; whizzing past, in his own characteristic way. HeBitch was late of course. Uncharacteristically, Billy looked like she was gonna die at the first holding. Lying on the ground, lifelessly throwing limbs around, like a fish doing a last gill-motion, grappling for non-present water. Let this be a lesson people: don't go Everest-climbing.

At a certain junction, Hurry Krishna was done with following the trail. Held out pretty long. He already knew where the next holdings were gonna be so he went off scoring chang, and he took HeBitch along for company.

The rest of us plodded on and approached an uphill village from the right. WOULD we be led to that cosy little temple in the middle of it?? And along that route your scribe bumped into Kruel, all worn out. Could hardly stand on his legs. Looking like he had 4 severe plagues at once. First Billy, now Kruel. Perhaps the blistering heat in this monsoon-less monsoon-season?

I left him sweating and panting away at some corner-store, and bumped into Hurry Krishna again, coming from the left. Chang under his arm. Not so much in a hurry. Next to him Hebitch. Chang under his arm. As we approached the hill with, with temple in middle (Hurry Krishna didn't even bother looking for paper), Hebitch was dropping off the map. Looked like his assets were hugged by 4 bear-crushes all at once (as did our layed-off wallstreet investment-bank virgin btw). Had been puking and not eaten all day before. First Billy, then Kruel, now Hebitch. Come on people, take some care of yourself. The Hash isn't THAT much fun. Just stay home. Catch up - or develop - your social life.

Then from the temple, in that village, up on that hill, straight towards the on-in. We just followed Hurry Krishna. Those tasty hot pakoda-type things were already waiting. They make my day you know. Cheers to whomever makes them (it's Mrs Rotter, you dimwit. I only get her to make them when numbers get a bit low. As attendance is now rising nicely I'm thinking she can have a week or two off - GM). And those new compressed brownies of course. Who can top them next week!

Eventually the circle closed in on us, but not before Liquor made off with my bag with keys, money and phone. Cheers. And also with someone's helmet. So someone, if you're still missing it; Liquor has been spotted with you helmet on, pedalling along the Kathmandu roads on his tricycle, with this big grin on his face. Also, someone put her/his bidon (water-thingy that is) in my bag. It's not that pretty so please reclaim it.

Anyways, in the circle Rob and red-shirted-red-faced-girl were clamouring for hash names like there was no tomorrow. Bit embarrassing. But hash names have to be earned. So they got none. Then Keeled almost got a down-down. Is that worth mentioning? Better not encourage him. Drat, too late. Or he did actually get one? Hmm, can't remember. And then some other people got some downdowns as well. And eventually SuperSuction got the Hashit for looking/sounding like Howezat. So that makes it three Howezat-related hashits in a row? Spin it thin why don't you. Can they squeeze out a fourth one? I'm sure they can. This whole Howezat-affair is spiralling out of control. And I want no part in it! No I say! Bada-bing.

And there the scribe rested . . .

control. And I want no part in it! No I say! Bada-bing.

And there the scribe rested . . .