After a soggy night under canvas, caravan, campervan and Shepherd Hut the hash arose to a moist campsite. Having been kept awake most of the night by Pimp’s snoring, I awoke grumpily and, exiting my tent I discovered the campsite floor had become Cumbria’s newest Lake. The tents were de-rected and packed away, and Pimp, Cockatool and I headed into Keswick for some breakfast.

A Weatherspoon’s Large Full English Breakfast was given 15 minutes to digest before we were off again, this time towards Threlkeld. A stunning skyline greeted us from the car park, with fells rising all around us, promising only one thing: ascent. (Ironically) following a short decent from the car park, the only present hare Speedbump confused right and left and sent the pack the wrong way. This was soon rectified, and the pack wandered West-bound beneath the mammoth Blencathra; its cloudy, hostile summit looming tall above us like a Conservative government.

We encountered a check at the bottom of a field, and several possible ways were identified. Just Rob, Forever Blowing and Bone Idle were the first to venture, but after several minutes of checking through long grass and several groups of sheep there was no progress. Speedbump had even been joined by Dormouse at this stage, but neither were offering any clues. Eventually, the cry of “OnOn” was heard from the top corner of the field, and we all followed Cockatool’s distinctive and over-familiar tones uphill.

After a couple of miles of fields, footpaths and frolicking, the hash discovered some road. This easier terrain gave the front r*nners an opportunity to stretch their legs, and the climb continued. The trail led us through a farm and back again onto the traditional Lakeland footpaths that we know and love. A Fish Hook and Re-Group offered the trailing hashers a chance to catch up, and Speedbump advised the Wimps to stick close to her. The Rambos, never one to r*n from a challenge, took climb once more, and Pimp led the way up a trail as steep as a 2009 MP’s expenses claim. In his power he flew up and over the marking; a sneaky three dots that took the trail back around and immediately down (well spotted by Forever Blowing). After several minutes of calling him back, we gave up – he was a sacrifice to the fells.

We reconvened at the transportable beer stop, where the Wimps and Rambos enjoyed a tasty and refreshing beverage. Pimp eventually re-joined us after claiming to have been on trail the whole time (dodgy hares…). A quick hash flash was taken by Tight Arse and once again we were off, bounding down footpaths like Bubbles when last orders is called at the bar.

The final section of the trail led us through woodland, where roots sprouted from the ground and hashers were rewarded for good eye-sight and agility. A final climb took us back to the car park where we changed footwear, circled and departed to the Horse and Farrier for Sunday lunch. As he often does, Cockatool tried to take over the circle and name Just Rob. His suggestion was well received, but he was firmly put in his place by Bubbles and RA Dormouse stepped forward to christen “Sir Arsealot” (in honour of the time spent on his arse throughout the weekend).

On behalf of the visitors, thank you for having us. We had a great time and I’m already looking forward to the next one.

OnOn

Babe Magnet

NH3