R*n 952: Nether Kellet

Hash number 952, another abandoned and long time ignored hash picked up at short notice by LP and FCS ( thank you 🙏) with only a handful of hashers attending. (well 2 handfuls if we count hash hound). Speaking of which, we were all enthusiastically greeted by Morag, anointing most of us with hash hound paw prints as a sign of hash love and inclusivity.✌🏻

Keenly commencing just before the stroke of 11, we were promised ‘cheeky‘ hills, herds of placid cows and diversions forced by lumberjacks in the woods. More of the latter and indeed bears! later.

Cheeky hills?? The  definition of cheeky is slightly rude, disrespectful or bold, usually in a playful, charming or amusing way. OK, the report shall reflect this...

So the trail began impudently but playfully up past the promised placid cows who didn’t budge an inch as we passed by them,and  a duo of detectorists. We restrained ourselves from asking if they had found any gold. What they had uncovered was an iron stake which they left temptingly on the kissing gate. Maybe useful for the upcoming Halloween influx of vampires but otherwise useless and certainly not treasure.

Round the town, then back and impudently up over the field to and around Lundsfield Quarry. On on through the outskirts of Carnforth and around football pitches where we enjoyed the repartee between shockingly pink clad football players and their unsuccessful goalie. Clearly, they were not happy pink players and he not the best of goalkeepers!

The route forged onward to the canal where we came to LP and FCS‘s beer stop set up. It looked like a small shop and they could probably have made a bob or two selling to all the usual canal crowd.

Back over the canal the trail turned both bold and saucy  again as we ran up to Crawstone Woods in great expectation of a crowd of muscled lumberjacks. Oh disappointment! Just a few blokes with brushcutters giving the verges a short back and sides. Not a plaid shirt in sight nor any Monty Python chorus to be heard.

Flippantly the trail then rose through the woods, still devoid of lumberjacks. However we were shortly to encounter a stealthy bear waiting silently for unwary hashers to cross its path. Probably making too much noise, we safely avoided attack and panted up on the impishly flirtatious field slopes to arrive on the homeward bound lane .

Down downs given were all for ‘seeing men about dogs’ on trail. Lots of canine interest today apparently with ages ranging from the youngest to the oldest hasher.

Thank you hares, -a sassy and audacious ascent of 131m and 8.45 Rambo kilometres. The sun shone and our local stomping ground provided an entertaining r*n.

The usual crowd retired to the on inn - the Canal Turn for sustenance and further jollity.