It was the usual warm day in Pattaya, the sun was out ( I had nothing big enough to put it in) and as I stroll along Beach Road I remember commenting in my usually naïve way “I’d love it to rain, that second Carlsberg was a mistake last night, and I could do with a cool shower to help me around today”. What an arse I was, how I should have known better.
And so after a friendly meet at the Scandi (ok I was rightly prosecuted for not knowing where it was-Pattaya’s a big town for a country boy), we pile into brand spanking new reliable transport and off out to Kheng Krachen waterfall for a friendly jog through the even, accessible Thai country that I know so well from hashing in Bangkok.
What a civilized little spot, public toilets, a little shed to shade oneself from the Sun, and friendly faces to clear the last vestiges of the hangover that still reminded oneself of ones humanity (ok…alcoholism). There was even a real, full sized beer lorry that rolled in to deliver hope to the already dehydrated hashers, but sadly, no beer!
So, the Bushman and Grub Screw to Hare, nice guys… reasonable and respectable, no problems there…..about an hour and a half eh? Why not take the long run? Can’t think of any reasons.
The pre-run circle was an amicable affair , the Festering Streaker once more reminding us of the rules that the Bush was sacred and not to be trashed, that the Bush…..was to be obeyed and that third one , you know the one after the first two that’s not the fourth one.
Bushman was clear on our instructions for directions at the Waterfall (only a fool could go wrong), and Lunch Box delivered his usual supply of ammunition for self humiliation and victimisation through his own inimitable form of Gallic questioning.
And so it was up and away to the first check, obviously a falsie to start, but not a problem for those brave stalwarts of the Hush Bash. On On we go, No More Cum getting closer to nature than he really wanted, with a variety of legless lifeform (no I don’t mean you Ringworm) crawling through the undergrowth too near his leg.
The impressive Thor-like ability of Festering Streaker being able to summon up thunder with one blast of his horn sent me a mental note to stand well away from him when he plays the last post.
The next check was a biggie, took a while to find, but soon we zoom off through the beautiful, still flat Thai countryside, with a drink stop a few minutes ahead. Drinkies enjoyed by all, and the prospect of a little waterfall ahead to deliver a little variety to this already enjoyable run through gorgeous terrain.
What a nice bit of variety, a hill….don’t see many of those in Bangkok, but a clear path is there to follow, up we go.
Damn the hangover’s not just hitting the head, but the legs are feeling it as well…not enough training eh? No problem, just go down the gear box a little and you’ll find your second (or is it third or fourth?) wind quite soon. Yes, it means getting separated from the bunch ahead, but you’ll be fine. Up and up, the friendly face of Grob Screw on the waterfall just lending a hand, and an equally amicable group of young Thai’s willing to help me along……but wait where’s the trail, I can’t have missed it…I’ve just climbed all this way without needing to ……ok back down….don’t worry….the trails there.
And there’s the trusty ranger, waiting to send me off from the waterfall and up a bit of a climb. On-Onwards and upwards, it’s getting a little bit dark, and the rain’s made it a little bit slippy, but there’s no reason to worry, you’re alone, tired, climbing a rain eroded 60 degree slope with your feet slipping, just roots to hang onto and a big enough drop to be a little inconvenient at the bottom, but at least you’re on trail…..but at least you were on trail…..no! where was that last paper….oh shit going down the slope is harder than climbing up…..3…2…1 time to PANIC!!!!!
ARE YOU?…ARE YOU?…I shout….silence was the stern reply. Then a far off call from the distance, but how to get there? Shouting for help was the best option…..but how long had I been off trail? What time was it? If I went back would I miss all the beer?
And then, as if from nowhere the Ranger appears, what a hero, he guides me back on the trail, and mud caked, soaked, and so ****ing thankful when I spot Ringworm, I have never been so happy to read the back of a Hash shirt in my life.
In comparison the rest of the run was a pleasant little stroll in the woods, and I thank Grub Screw and Bushman for making me realise what a yellow livered coward I really am. Ta guys.
Oh the beautiful solace of an open shed in the rain, with hot food on the burner, two halves of shandy in the beer truck, and a strong possibility of living till Monday (ok Sunday morning……about 4.00).
The post run banter was bubbling. When confessing my plight, the consolation from No Meat was sincere “……how could you miss the trail?”….darling, how did you find it???
And things got better, PPD may not dance well, but she cooks as only goddesses can, and despite Lunch Box’s Biology lecture on bacteria reproduction rates in pre-cooked rice a feeling of semi-humanity was returning with my third bowl of warm nectar.
All tracers of Friday night’s hangover had gone, the medicinal properties of 5 cans of Carlsberg can’t be underestimated, and although we were happy to drink and abuse eaxh other in our little shed, the circle was called. We’d previously heard Festering complain about the quality of the ice, and he sure was right.
Grub Screw was privileged to be the first to cool his ardour, and straight away we have enough crushed ice to keep us in Margaritas until Christmas.
He should have bought some fresh ice, not that frozen rubbish he ended up with. Festering Streaker starts proceedings and confesses he is none to happy as he has bent his horn, and although you can still blow it, it now takes him all night to play the tune he used to play all night.
Ringworm and Lunch Box are next up for…who cares….there’s not enough victimisation about these days, and eventually the debt of 10 baht from the Auction is vastly inflated to 12 baht by the munificent Box, and I believe he even tried to pay it!
The continual rain could not damp the spirits of the Hashers.
Superb icings for Wanking, a Northampton lad with a Chinese name, for VV- almost continually for …………….., and wanting all his life to be a ranger, and managing to stand by a few today.
The ultimate gentleman Ringworm provides a comfortable seat for Buckley, the sight of both of them balanced on one cheek on one ice cube is one to remember.
No More Cum takes a stint for wearing removable leggings (whilst many of us are looking out for removable legs), and Rabid Bitch is cruelly misundertstood and received a Rule Six violation (I’m sure Fester said there were only three, oh well) which he really did not enjoy-sorry he loved, and doesn’t mind how long he stays on the ice for, as he likes it lots.
No More Come flexs his mighty jaw Weetabix eating to become Bush Hash Hero, following a slight rule adjustment of just one in one minute, Ian Botham could eat three!!!-yeah, yeah-ok, he did used to cheat and add milk-that’s Somerset lads for you.
There’s a naming ceremony for Deposit and Withdraw, for her services to the international community following her true vocation. There’s even down-down’s for the Rangers who were truly wonderful, and even for Knickerless’s driver, our generosity knows no bounds.
And so our cheery band zoom back to Pattaya. For myself its always nice to see a corner of Thailand I’d not before, and I was so glad whenever I found a small piece of paper. Admittedly, not quite as glad as VV was to find a corner to squat in, especially, Chamberlain style, in his hand a piece of paper. I hope it cleared up soon mate!
How sneaky he was to make the bus break down just when we’d run out of beer, we all wanted a quick view of the roadside to irrigate our souls, and he needed a big one!
And then, incredibly, he had the psychic ability to get the thing started again just when we’d all finished-what are the powers of Asterix look-alikes, incredible!
We pile out onto Beach Road and bid our fond farewells, tired, scratched, battered and bruised, but luckily alive, and the pubs are open!
Rabid Bitch
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