HASH 724
Well who would
you choose?
Dick’s man
This week a dozen or so hashers headed for a sundowner and Thai food at the Eagle’s Nest Bar &
Restaurant which is located at 17,000 meters above Nathon town. The idea was to see if the bar &
restaurant could be used as a future venue. The Big & Wee Yin in their brand new Honda with red
number plates bailed out at 9 meters above sea level due to light inclement raindrops and having totaled
two pickups higher up this 17,000 meter slope at an infamous hashers house on their steepish driveway.
The idea was to test the food and drink before the end of happy hour. It turned out there was no happy
hour and prices for a big bottle were very eloquently priced at 80 baht a bottle. OK they started at 100
baht a bottle before Bin Runnin’ pointed out the falangs were a miserly bunch who couldn’t afford the 20
baht mark up.
Anyway only Lima Papa & Bin Runnin’ tasted the magnificent fare and the rest of our intrepid hashers
suddenly developed dementia and fled to the lower slopes of the ring road with each of their cars being
led by a dog for the blind from the Dog Rescue Home. It took the dog three hours to guide them all to the
ring road but thank god all arrived without mishap. I’m led to believe on reaching the ring road a fleet of
Mini Vans arrived to take them home as they deemed it too perilous to drive due to oxygen sickness and
the danger of local motor cyclists.
Onto the 724. I wasn’t able to attend Jock’s Hash from my villa located high above Santaburi Golf Course
as the workers from the mainland had arrived unexpectedly at 2pm to build me a new IKEA kitchen.
I sent my man servant Odd-job to witness the proceedings. He staggered in at around 3am on Sunday
morning claiming he’d been led astray by Forest, Ferrel, Forbeskin, Froggy and Frigadella. Nuff said.
So much of what I’m writing might not be quite truthful. Perhaps a little blurred by copious amounts of the
amber nectar.
At spot on 3:30 the GM, Go Around & his henchman, the bottle opener, Corkie called order and set the
circle. A roll call was called and to our delight, Crive, No Woman No Crive, Bags and Honey Trap had
returned. Pissbowl thought he’d also returned but we know better - he’d never left. The Jock let the
wankers loose 5 minutes before the Rambos for god know’s what reason we’ll never know. But he did.
No paper for the wankers for the first kilometer. Not that it really matters, they never see it anyway.
5 minutes up, the Rambos sprinted off for about 15 seconds and encountered their first hill. A really
cunning backcheck had them floundering about like a school of mullets. Once the trail was figured out it
was on, on and after the wankers. Amazingly the second check was figured out by the wankers before
the Rambos arrived. Froggy, take a bow. Ok it might have been Tootie Fruity, but well done whoever
spotted the correct way. Thereafter the split sent the Rambos and wankers in different directions. It’s
rumoured Mutton Jeff thought he knew a short cut but truth be told he had a sore foot. Le Mullet couldn’t
believe the trial was heading west and not east. East was flat, west was uphill. Claiming degenerate
knees he gamely crawled up said hillock. At the top of said hillock a check saw the Rambos searching
for none existent false trails. Hash Shit for the Jock? Shortly thereafter the Rambos and Wankers
rejoined like a mother’s comforting umbilical cord. See what I mean about Odd-job? Shit happens. If I
ever need to send out the hired help to cover the story it will be One-more, my gardener next time. We
then headed into the quaint village of Snake Farm south which saw us skirting the temple much to the
hobbling Mullet’s amazement. At some stage Pissbowl or Crive broke a check to lure the Rambos and
wankers through a false trail with absolutely no paper thereafter. Durr! It was at this stage Leopard Piss
had to reveal to his running partner, Ze Millitt, On, On was definitely not Pissbowl or Crive’s way but in
completely the opposite direction. Lima Papa was actually the Jock’s bagman and had gone out at
4:30am to help lay the paper earlier in the night or morning before. Being still dark at that time the evil
Jock presumed the Piss would have no idea which way he was going. Once through the temple it was
familiar territory and on in to our beautiful circle site. Odd-job tells me it would be a great site for a bar-bque sometime. What do I know? I wasn’t there.
Can’t tell you too much about the circle apart from Gromit complaining about too much concrete. But I
can tell you it was voted a shit hot trail. Bogtrotter & Bagpipes back soon we hear so we can look forward
to great trails again from Bogtrotter before he heads back to Jock land again next year.
Feral next week so we can look forward to another great hash. Somewhere over the rainbow we’re told.