Run #3189 by Christian K at Kali Corner

A rather intimate crowd of just 22 hashers turned up at Kali Corner for Christian’s latest attempt at recreational suffering. The Hare had generously laid short, medium and long options, supposedly providing something for everyone. Naturally, several heroes marched in early proudly announcing they were doing the Long, only to crawl home later via the Medium. Ambition: Long. Legs: Medium. Excuses: Pathetic. The first bar immediately demonstrated Christian’s commitment to recycling. A few weeks earlier we’d already enjoyed the delightful experience of following paper straight to a sheer waterfall cliff with absolutely no fucking way up. Apparently it was such a success that we needed an encore. The pack reached the dead end, stared hopefully at the vertical wall, swore at the Hare, then backtracked until someone eventually found paper leading around to the top. From there the decree was simple: follow the water uphill. At the first crossing there was knee-deep mud and much pathetic crying about wet shoes. Poor innocent bastards. They had no idea what was coming. Because the “trail” for the next 40 minutes was basically the creek itself. There was no keeping the shoes dry now. The pack accepted its soggy fate and started sloshing upstream, scrambling through water and mud while Christian presumably sat somewhere dry feeling very pleased with himself. Eventually the choices appeared: Short for those possessing common sense, Medium for those requiring additional punishment, and Long for anyone whose childhood clearly lacked sufficient abuse. With 7 km and around 750 metres of climbing available, there was plenty of misery to go around. The Long runners eventually staggered home in the dark, presumably having reconsidered several major life choices. Back at Kali Corner the refreshments were flowing and the small turnout made for a suitably cosy but entertaining circle. Pope and Black Lee somehow ended up battling to determine who could walk on water. With biblical precedent firmly on Pope’s side, Black Lee never really stood a chance — and duly lost. From there, charges, down-downs and assorted nonsense flew left and right until everyone gradually settled into the far more sensible business of drinking beer and talking bollocks. Verdict: Excellent old-school hash fuckery. Three distances advertised, several egos downgraded, one recycled waterfall trap, 40 minutes of compulsory aquatic footwear testing and enough climbing to justify several beers afterward. Small pack, big entertainment. On On — and next time Christian says “follow the water,” bring a fucking snorkel.