It was a dark and gloomy December morning but at the war memorial and tree of friendship in Carnforth a small group of hashers were standing 2m apart as all good Tier 3 citizens should.

A group of 6, anyone would think we’d planned it, and off we set. Only 2 admitted to peeping at the Emergency Map, but the other 4 were blithely confident of a bone dry, clean trail as that is what the hares had promised. For the first few hundred metres they got their wish but then the Rambos were diverted off the road and out towards the Shiggy fields, quick sand and water treatment works near the shore of Morecambe Bay. What could possibly go wrong?

Well first we approached a check from the wrong direction so we obviously had already missed our way so being well behaved little hashers we retraced our, currently clean, footsteps and took a footpath past a house that was built at nearly twenty to five. Hard Astern said it was 1638, but what’s 2 minutes between friends?

Through the derelict outbuildings, definitely a Thunderdick project waiting to happen we survived the first of many slippery and wobbly stiles and our footwear was never the same again, as Forever Blowing went in up to her knee and everyone else gave up all hope of clean trainers.

A reedbed gave Lurch his first photo opportunity and we proceeded down to the shore road and finally rejoined the check from the intended direction, over a bridge and onto a dry footpath that led us to the back road between Warton and Silverdale. Ready About could be heard muttering about Front Running Rambos with long legs whose lack of checking made for no recovery breaks for those of us with shorter legs!

Arrows a-plenty led us to the village where we rejoined the wimps trail - we even met a lone Fiddler searching for flour and STT down a darkened alleyway - at least that’s what he said he was doing.

On out of Warton we headed East towards Pine Lakes and on to familiar territory for those who had done our illustrious GM’s first trail back in pre-lockdown times, but this time with the help of daylight we could see where we were going - even Lurch without his glasses spotted the arrow heading across the A6.

The hares were very considerate to lay a gravel path alongside the chalets which we enjoyed until it morphed into a slippery slip that led us eventually to another muddy field -yay- and The Exhibitionist’s low point as we slopped under a many arched bridge (remember that one for a future quiz!).

I think it was here that we decided the Septics were liars of extraordinary magnitude!

At some point on trail there was a BS, was this a Beer Stop? No - Bullshit. No refreshments and no chance for little legs to pause.

Joining the canal at a point that we knew was a long way from the start was only good because we knew we were heading in the right direction and Glassy Lady was off, pounding the towpath with her other half in quick pursuit. Hash Flash was distracted doing some arty farty photos which look fab.

The checks tempting us off trail couldn’t fool anyone until the play park where Lurch set off at a serious sprint up the hill back to Kellet Road. On In (sadly no second ‘n’) led us back to the metropolis of Carnforth, a quick photo stop and on home to suggestions of variously, log fires, hot chocolate, mulled wine and mince pies - oh and clean dry feet!

Happy Christmas to all who followed after - Santa Claus IS coming to town, I saw him on trail, a solitary r*nner looking for his little helpers.

Well done hares - you got us out of our houses on a day when none of us would have done so without encouragement!