R*n 76 started from Turner Hall Farm campsite, Seathwaite and the On Inn was Newfield Inn, Seathwaite.
Hash Handle | Hare | Hound | Total |
---|---|---|---|
Bubbles - Hare | 18 | 49 | 67 |
Lurch - Hare | 11 | 46 | 57 |
Antiseptic | 6 | 18 | 24 |
Cousin It | 1 | 34 | 35 |
Cum Yak Yak | 1 | 19 | 20 |
Cyberseptic | 6 | 20 | 26 |
Forever Blowing | 11 | 55 | 66 |
Fugitive Nipple | 2 | 16 | 18 |
Hash Drunk | 11 | 50 | 61 |
Morticia | 8 | 34 | 42 |
No More Cum | 7 | 37 | 44 |
Pick Me Up | 11 | 48 | 59 |
The Duke | 0 | 9 | 9 |
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13
This was our 1st visit. We also visited on...
Run 76 started the day before as we all arrived for the circle, so keen, about 18 hours too early. We had a pre-run warm up the evening before (to the pub Slackbladder - not up a mountain first!) we ate and drank our fill and then wandered back to our beds, but back at the site we were all impressed by the size of Nipple's magnificent erection and decided to stay for more liquid refreshment.
The day of the run dawned, the Septics enjoyed two breakfasts and returned to bed, Slackbladder stuffed himself with tons of food and then, as he needs more running practice than the rest of us left for Wasdale to see if he could find any flour there - he looked very hard and returned later that evening without having seen a single bit of chalk - look harder next time.
The more observant among us noticed an extra tent in our midst and we were eventually joined by ambassadors of the Newcastle hash, Babyshit and the Monk who had managed to find us after what must have been a rough night in Newcastle.
Lots of bacon and sausages later the hares disappeared to do their worst and we settled down for a lazy couple of hours, we had so much to do, slip on our hash shirts, slap on our hash hats, slop on some hash sunscreen, down some hash bevies, but we only remembered to do the last one, and the hares returned and crashed out under Lurch's also magnificent erection.
So Run 76 finally began, down towards the Inn - but not near enough for some hounds we ducked down through the woods, over bridges various and headed up, up and up through the jungle that is the Duddon Valley, we waded through marshy meadows, over dry stone walls, down and over and up becks until we found our treasure - a welcome bottle of water.
The wimps and rambos parted company only to reunite at the stepping stones beer stop, a very wet battle ensued.
Baby-I'm-definitely-not-getting-my-shoes-wet-shit definitely got his shoes wet and a good time was had by all. Joined by the smaller hounds we proceeded to wend our way up the other side of the valley eventually to return to the campsite and a blazing sun.
Now most people at this point would top up their sun cream and seek the shade, but no our illustrious mis-management were intent on doing lobster impressions for the rest of the weekend. Hope it doesn't hurt too much guys!
Down Downs - you expect me to remember them all?
Sayings of the day:
Write up by Forever Blowing
18th July 2003 at 9:53am