Bush scribe report, 10/4/10.

Arriving at a secluded and more importantly well shaded A-site early, camp was set up and hydration commenced.  A low turnout was expected due to the heat and mass exodus of sensible expats during the water chucking period.  Once the 30ish hashers had signed up, the Bushmaster called the circle and welcomed the virgins.  The hares, VV & Dirty Pussy described the run would be an A to B to C run with the current A-site being points B and C if anyone wanted to do the shorter part of the run.  If that did not confuse people enough, the colour scheme and arrangement of checks certainly did.  Individually, some people can be quite clever but as a collective (especially hashers) we tend to have the brains of amoeba.  We all jumped on the bus and headed a few KM north along the 331 to the starting point.

A dirt track led into a plantation then down through a gully, along to the first check.  Straight on, a false trail was found and on-on was called to the left. A big loop through some dry riverbeds led us to the second check.  I managed to find the FT from the first check at this point and by this time, I was right at the back of the pack.  The next check was solved fairly quickly but I still managed to end up right at the back again.  It is here I would like to coin a new acronym which I think applies-SCFRB’s.  Steady away contouring up a hill, the whole pack were milling around the next check with hashers dotted around all over the hillside.  After a while, I headed down hill and found paper which after a short while headed up and up and more up.  The hard climb ended in a recently burnt out area and down the other side of the hill.  The next check was at the bottom, where I found the trail up to the left through the woods and steadily climbing.  The next check was straight on over the barbed wire and I was alone and I guessed that the pack would be stretched right out.  After a very steep descent, the trail headed right to the next check.  Vaseline Thighs caught me just as I solved it and we trotted in to the B site in just over an hour.  Slowly people were trickling in and taking fruit and fluids onboard.

VV showed us where the next part of the run started and Mudcracker, Vaseline Thighs, Jackal and I jogged steadily along the dirt track.  The first check gave us a false trail straight on and the paper started up to the right all the way around the edge of a pineapple field, eventually heading back down to the track we started on and the next check.  I went the wrong way and by the time I got back to the check there was no-one around.  The trail went through a dry riverbed and along some cattle tracks.  Pig Pusher Swine Stabber caught me along here and we struggled on into an open field.  Soon I saw Jackal wandering around off paper grumbling about FRB’s not shouting.  Soon we started passing some walkers through more dry rivers, the trail heading to the 331 and a final push back to the C-site (Also A and B?).

Tadpole & VV were busy at the barbeque and the first cold beers started to go down nicely.  Due to the low attendance and lack of RA, Tampax was going round everyone asking if they wanted to take the circle.  The lights were rigged up and as darkness fell, the circle was formed.  The hares were duly iced along with Linguini Weeny and the general opinion was a good run.  Ringworm was the first RA and after a football associated punishment and joke, he organized a re-match of the Oxford/Cambridge boat race.  Having such a good team captain (me), Cambridge won but both teams achieved a better stage of drunkening for their efforts.  Hobbit’s circle next, who dished out punishment as Tampax fumbled around for his lost car key.  Burlives sang the famous “me no like Blitish Sailor” with enthusiastic backing from $100 Skidmark, who was later joined by her friend for the short anthem “if your girlfriend tastes like shit”.  As the night drew to a close, I put myself in the bucket for a final refreshment then we swung low in our sweet chariots.  For some strange reason, the latter part of this scribe is much less detailed than the first, if anyone can explain this and why I woke up the following morning with a mouth like a Nagasaki sewer cleaner’s flip flop, please let me know.

ON-ON, Cabbagehead