Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

Friday 20th April 2018
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R*n 297 location

R*n 297 started from Rigg Lane car park, Quernmore and the On Inn was Bubbles & Forever Blowing's, Caton Green.

Who ran 297? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Bubbles - Hare42179221
Forever Blowing - Hare31178209
Antiseptic30128158
Bedside Manner74855
Bitter1688104
Cousin It46771
Cyberseptic34117151
Dormouse64147
Feels on Wheels137184
Highway1098108
Lurch33163196
Major Twit12109121
Master Baker1091101
Minor Twat1395108
Morticia29149178
Pudsley36770
Sir Tom Tom11011
Thunder Dick95160
Twisted1692108
Upperskirt16173189
Wednesday47478

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Sunday 22nd March 2009 at 11:00am

DaytimeR*n 297 »

Quernmore

Some things don't change. Despite having not run with LVH3 for several months, it was reassuring for me to find that the Addams Family still have no intention of making it to the start of a run by the correct time. Thus it was that we set off from a rather deserted car park at the base of Clougha, following a helpful trail of flour across the moorland for several hundred metres until the familiar gaggle of brightly-beclothed hashers came into view, checking out a split at the bottom of the hill.

Obviously the trail went up the steepest available route, only to come back down again thanks to a cruelly placed fishhook, before veering off above a stream in the direction of Littledale. The sadist hares' markings led the hashers on a merry dance through as much shiggy as possible, causing Highway to ingloriously end up on all fours in a bog, before climbing yet another hill to the awaiting beer stop.

A few drinks and biscuits later the run recommenced, heading through yet more boggy terrain, which could only have been deemed acceptable as a route by a morally bankrupt man. Lurch paid the price for this when his shoe was snatched from his foot by a particularly squelchy patch. Next we dipped into a small and picturesque valley where we were advised to beware the peacocks, but none appeared. Somewhat apprehensively we pressed on, the fear of being ambushed by brightly-plumed birds no doubt playing on the mind of even the most hardened runner present. Fortunately navigating the next section of 'path' was mentally demanding enough, as it erratically clambered over rocks, under spiky bushes and across fences. Finally we emerged onto a road and it was a short stretch back to the car park.

Bubbles and Forever Blowing presumably felt guilty for the ordeal we had been put through, so they opened up their home where a rather exotic but tasty selection of soups was laid on and the barbecue was fired up for some traditional sausage butties, which were appreciated by all.

On On

Pudsley

Write up by Pudsley

28th March 2009 at 5:53am