Intrepid runners mobbed Earsby Youth Hostel from far and wide to be greeted with hearty soup and negotiable sleeping arrangements. Then the pack was off! Across boggy field and muddy track, past barely-interested cows and squeezing through modestly-sized stiles they ran in the pursuit of flour and the promise of a warm pub (log fires were even spoken of in hushed tones). As they lost track of false calls, lurking cow pats and October chills, there seemed the distinct possibility the hares had sent them round on one enormous loop and they were heading to the pub nearest the Youth Hostel. Well, not the very nearest as the landlady there was open only to the very local, locals. Word of the Hash had obviously got round!

Just over three miles later, the pack descended on the historic pub in the centre of Earsby and supped well earned brews of the Peddle witches. All enlivened by fabulously spooky decorations. With a short stagger home to the Youth Hostel, it was a great start to the weekend celebrations!

On on

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