R*n 413: Haverthwaite

Last to arrive at the on on again, so I deserved to get the scribe duty.  On arrival though an amazing spectacle greeted me.  Such a throng of hashers, visitors, sceptical virgins, committed virgins and spectators as has not been seen at an LVH3 r*n for many a month. What a testament to the spirit of the hash when so many produce a vote of thanks by voting with their feet to demonstrate support in a way that... Sorry, I'm ranting on a bit now. Back to the write-up.

The hares introduced a contemporary flavour to this r*n with a new alphanumeric vector decision algorithm, involving a reversal of the flow by a degree of marker indicators, cleverly designed to entertain 11-year olds like Ben, who I must say was an absolute rock in adversity while lesser hashers just floundered in shiggy and lost all sense of dignity.

Having disposed of Gillian and Forever Blowing on their elected uber-wimps option, the conventional wimps/rambos partnership launched themselves across the Barrow road and straight away needed much help from a hare to find ongoing trail, diving into the dense undergrowth and over a slate wall which the hares seemed to have half-demolished to facilitate our progression. The r*n from there involved climbing steeply uphill in woods to attain lofty heights, then somehow lost the height we had toiled over and under the main road to continue across open fell in the general direction of what was supposedly a rewarding viewpoint, though in fact pointless as we could see nothing but clag and drizzle by then. &Still, the thought was there. Luckily said drizzle soon abated and a further romp through glorious shiggy brought us to the hidden beer and biscuits, of which there were barely enough to go round the multitude. Shame the hares didn't think of providing loaves and fishes - that would have fed 5000 hashers I would have thought.  Sorry, couldn't resist another fish joke.

Following the signs to the trout farm we passed a tarn with signs warning that fishing was not allowed, so we high tailed it back to the Anglers' Arms, gagging for fish and chips. But not before a tumultuous circle in which Ben was charged with something or other and several other down downs were administered, which I can't recall, as usual.

Seriously though folks, another terrific, atmospheric trail with plenty of shiggy and obscure checks, by our master hares Speedbump and Dormouse.  Long may they set and sweep. The pub food was pretty good too.