Run #1390 - Mum and the Shiggy Swamp Thing

April 14, 2008

Hares: Dreary
Where: Fish Creek at the end of 24th Street SW
On-In: White Hart Manor Pub
Big Rock: Cheap ...plus 20 cent wings!
Attendance: 30

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The calendar said mid-April, but the biting north wind, ominous black clouds and spits of rain or snow or whatever it was, made it seem less balmy than mid-April in, say, San Diego.

And the warm memories of the previous day's 22C rapidly were becoming a faded memory, and led to the obvious question asked by hashers in a myriad of instances: Did that really happen?

Mud, snow, ice, slush and a rather chilly Shiggy Swamp greeted hashers in Fish Creek Provincial Park — some parts of which haven't seen sunshine in about three years — on a trail set by grizzled hash veteran Dreary, who always thinks it's summer.

It was sorta like a Rocky Mountain hash without the mountains, and just a little shorter. But there was plenty of slipping, sliding, slogging, muddy shoes and bushwhacking to whet the appetites of even the hardiest hashers.

In fact, dry conditions and warm temps would be an obstacle to Dreary when he tells the story 20 years from now about setting this Fish Creek trail. By that time, the trail will have been navigated in five meters of snow and -30C wind chill with grizzly bears on the loose.

Luckily, everyone made it to the end with all their arms and legs intact, and no obvious signs of frostbite, before heading to the White Hart Manor pub for cheap beer, cheap food and lotsa merriment.

The hash likely marked the farewell performance, at least until the inevitable Steppenwolf-BTO-like reunion tour, for the Lumby Dancers.

It seems that Lumby-ette Party Pumper is trying to move to Houston so she can get an up-close and personal look at Texas rednecks to see how they compare to their Alberta brethren.

She's already made a down payment on an oversized pickup truck, which comes with Confederate flag license plate holders. She's also learning how to speak with a drawl, and how to order grits without gagging.

Of course, it may not be a smooth transition, since the U.S. suspects that Canadians marrying Americans and then moving to Dubya Country is often a scam. Why anyone would move to Dubya Country is another issue altogether. Stay tuned.

The Bulgarian Princess' extended love affair with the Hash Thingy continued for another week, when she "forgot", wink, wink, to carry it with her on trail. So she got to keep it for another week.
Just a brief recap: Snowplow gets her 50th run mug, leaves it in the bar, comes back, can't find it, then it's returned to her next week (Hash Thingy I), then she forgets (Hash Thingy II). Stay tuned next week, when she goes for a hat trick.
Mum celebrated her 21st birthday — for the 30th or 40th or 50th or 60th time, or something. She says her mum is 29, so figure it out from there.
White Balls made a triumphant return from his extended holiday in the Land Down Under for the World Interhash and other assorted frivolity. Snevil, another Australia attendee, returned the previous week. Both appeared to be over their jet lag, which is probably a good thing. But since they've experienced more warm weather than most hashers have, they're not allowed to whine about goose bumps.
Gumbo tried to play the chivalrous gentleman role when he put his jacket down in the Shiggy Swamp, figuring some unidentified damsel in distress could use it as a foot path and not get her feet wet.
Oops, all Gumbo got was a soaked jacket that he had to ring out at the beer stop.
Dr. Fill wanted to honour the Lumby Dancers, but then forgot that Hash Test was also part of the three-woman troupe, which hurt her tender feelings more than anyone will ever know. Dr. Fill's alter ego will offer free counseling sessions starting next week.
Randy Bastard was delighted that his beloved San Francisco Giants, who are supposed to stink big-time this season, actually won a couple games. But he's not buying World Series tickets just yet.
The incessant chatter about the Golden Triangle bike ride on May long weekend continues unabated, but no one really cares, maybe not even those doing it.
A word to the wise: If you're ever perplexed and aren't sure what to do about one of life's little problems, just think WWFD? What Would Fabio Do? Then send the check to Auntie Frank, c/o ...

Go Flames Go — unless, of course, you root for the Oilers or Canucks or Ducks or Sharks or ...

On-On!

Duke of Hurl

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