Hash 471 : 7.6.08 : Submerged in Hac Sa : Hac Sa white houses

Hares: Roger & Out & Maid in Macau                Scribe: Nancy Boy

With Cunter Ass Thompson, our roving correspondent, studying zen and the art of tuk tuk driving in India the trash hasn’t been put out as much as it should have. Anyway, here’s Nancy Boy’s vague recollection of Hash 471.

There had been so much rain that I was thinking of emigrating to the UK for the sunshine. Hareless and soggy, the hash was looking all bedraggled (so what’s new?), but at the last moment local heroes Roger Nowt and Made in McCow volunteered to hang their lives on the line for the good of the hash.

The end of the road past the posh white houses is a romantic spot where one can gaze dreamily out over the South China Sea, and this was one of those sublime occasions when you could truly feel at one with nature. The less hardy sheltered under the back door of Nancy Boy’s car in the forlorn hope that it would keep them dry for the next hour and a half on trail, but in any case that was where the beer was. I don’t think they’ll be doing it again in a hurry because the carpet’s still drying out and the smell of mould’s a bit off-putting.

A submarine drifted past, a clear sign that there wasn’t much chance of getting flour to stay in one place for long, so the hares opted for a live trail, in the hope of staying just far enough ahead of the pack for there to be a trace of flour for them to find. They were still alive as they floated up the steps to the circuit around Hac Sa headland, and Nasiturd’s accountant’s brain went straight to work, calculating every potential short cut. It was so effective that he decided to keep it.

The walkers took off at the kind of breakneck pace that tortoises can only dream of, chatting as they made their way up the stairs, followed a little later by the slightly more energetic chatter of the runners. The check at the top presented no problem to Nasiturd’s accountant’s brain, which immediately had a wave and he suddenly found himself FRB en route to the top of the steps by Cheok Van Gardens, where a runner / walker split split us up.

Undaunted, we put ourselves back together again and set off on our respective journeys of discovery. The runners’ journey took us to the road above Cheok Van Beach. Not wanting to contradict the Hasher’s Mantra, ‘Don’t lose height’, we hovered about searching every nook and cranny for a splodge of flour rather than venture down the beach road. NYPD’s instinct kept him going straight around the bend, but that was no surprise, and he wasn’t seen again for some time. I understand he’s currently circling over the South Pole looking for Macau airport.

The accountant’s brain had taken over by now, for what else can explain Nasiturd’s sudden dash down to the beach, where sure enough he struck gold, or at least some squishy flour? ‘On on’, he called in triumph, and we all trooped down after him. The Gondola Restaurant was about to slip its’ moorings, but luckily stayed there long enough for another splodge to be spotted on the wall at the bottom of the steps. No more could be found within 15 metres, and now there was now a general reluctance to venture too far up the steps, but sure enough more was eventually found virtually, indeed really, at the top.

Where did we go next? Oh yes, from there it was a downhill dash to the stables, which soon developed into a crawl up the stairs to 6, 7, 8 or 9-ways. Near the top, a hasher hove into view and who else could it be than NYPD? His ‘accidental’ short cut past the Cheok Van stairs had now put him in front of even the accountant’s brain, but not for long.

Colonic and Nancy Boy joined forces with NYPD to scout the trail overlooking Hac Sa. Roger Nowt had avoided setting any checks at the various staircases up to A Ma statue, the Shrine of the Immaculate Helper. Presumably he was worried about her washing them away, but anyway we eventually found a check where the stairs hop over to the back of the hill. Nancy Boy dutifully went up to look for flour, whilst the others carried on along the trail, found some and kept on going.

Nancy Boy politely closed the check, then ran along to the next check where the trail loops around the next hill, to find that his erstwhile companions had run off without closing it. 10 minutes later he found the trail, generously went back to close the check and carried on, a little surprised and not a little proud that nobody had caught up yet. After that he only had to solve a couple more checks through the Hac Sa reservoir park and along the beach past Norman’s before getting back in – last.

It now dawned on him that everyone behind had SCB’d straight down the stairs from Many Ways to Hac Sa and had been standing about dripping for some time already. ‘Good, serves the bastards right’, he thought. I’m not sure which SCB got in first: NYPD or The Brain, but I seem to remember hearing that Scheisse somehow leapfrogged into the lead whilst we were all wandering about above Cheok Van, and caught Roger & Out somewhere before the end.

All the wet little hashers now surrendered to Mother Nature and moved to the bandstand in Norman’s Garden for the circle, where it was nice and dry and we were able to have fun with the beer, making lots of noise because there was nobody else silly enough to be out in this weather. I don’t remember much about the down-downs except for wondering whether I’d be able to remember anything about the down-downs. I can’t, but then that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

On on

Nancy Boy