"Is there anybody there?’ called the hasher,
hashing on the foggy moor;
And her feet in the silence trod the mosses
Of the fell’s ferny floor:"

You, dear Listener, and Walter de la Mare will be delighted to know that I will not be corrupting his poem anymore!

A day of freezing fog and the threat of road closure on the A590 meant that a variety of Wimp/Rambo routes were taken to get to the start of this morning’s r*n. We all descended on the sleepy hamlet from every direction and waited for the hare.

As you know we have often lost Highway by the end, or even half way through a r*n, but never before the r*n has even started! Layby never turned up, by popular consent we decided that she had been so exhausted from setting the Rambo trail that she had to retire to her bed.

Not wanting all our extremities to freeze off we formed a quick circle, left a message on the spotlessly clean door of the Hare’s car and checked it out.

Halfway over a frozen furrowed field we intercepted the returning hare, quickly made arrangements for the transfer of the bucket – important stuff, beer we can do without – but not Peanut biscuits!!

The pack soon became 2 halves, the rambos formed the advance party and ran a separate r*n to the remainder of the hounds. I was somewhere in between, trying to call back as often as I could, while still keeping sight of the disappearing green jacket of Cums to Order as he set off after Twisted and Lurch. Fog is a funny thing – body-less voices sounded so near and yet no-one could be seen. Perhaps that is why a “Friendly Cumbrian lady with Dog” was so pleased to see the back of the wimps as they finally left her peaceful and quiet patch of Southern Lakeland. Twisted aimed to confuse by calling – “On On – only joking” ha ha!!

Slippery stiles and crunchy squeaky ice over potentially deep boggy swamps were the hazards of the day – but the sight of hoar frost on dried grasses and hanging on cobweb festooned twigs which looked like sprayed on Silly String were the treats for those athletic Lune Valley Hashers – one day we must come back to see what the views really did look like!

A chatty and convivial host met us at the Beer Stop, (must be the taciturn and equally convivial Highway’s twin brother!) and informed us that the long Rambo split led to a stunning view of Beacon Tarn – at least it was yesterday anyway! The horn sounded near, but no r*nners appeared so we decided to get a headstart on the long split. After half a mile of no flour, and no prospect of any view when we did reach the summit, we decided to check back and followed the Egyptian hieroglyphics which looked tempting like HOME. Lurch was disappointed not to complete the Rambo trail – apparently the first time this has been done in his ’Hash Career’!

By this time we thought that we must be bringing up the rear of the pack and so kept on with the intention of catching up with the Wimps. Imagine our surprise then when the only wimp we found was Morticia, trying in vain to squat unseen behind a rock! En route Lurch performed a dramatic Hash Crash, causing his back and skull to make contact with the frozen ground.

Back at the Red Lion Antiseptic’s feet were gently steaming in front of the fire as she and Highway nursed their beers. Not having run far enough, Twisted set off on a Fish hook of her own in a vain attempt to find the wimps who, even with the experience of Cyberseptic, Intellectual Snobbery of Sir Tom Tom, the dynamic GPS skills of UpperSkirt and the superior navigational talents of Bubbles were about to set off and follow the Out trail for the second time that day!

It was good to welcome Every Little Helps to our merry band of Half a Mind hashers – hopefully she hasn’t been frightened back to Manchester from her new abode in the Lune Valley and she will join us again – not least when she brings the Manchester H3 to our humble Hashing Grounds for the weekend of March 20-22^nd.

The Landlord was a very nice man and we had a cosy seated circle by the fire in which WhiteNoise received her 200 r*n T shirt – almost speechless with pride she was!

And so with promises to return and re-run with better visibility and warmer hands and feet we departed whence we had come.