Tuesday 15th July
19th Annual Oil Hash, Darkest Surrey
I do love a good hash, especially at the end of a working day. As a friend of mine once said of the Singapore Hash 'I never saw the logic in running away from a truck full of beer.' In similarly baffling fashion we started at the excellent Onslow Arms in West Clandon, purveyors of fine ales and good grub. Having been positively posthumous for this fixture two years ago I vowed to leave in plenty of time . . . and duly arrived about an hour before the off. The sun shone, there was a beautiful beer garden . . . what's a man to do? I supped tea of course. Oh, not the hand-picked leaf infusion made with boiling water; no, TEA the real ale. Perhaps, with hindsight, not the best move.
Niguel arrived and we were well met in the car park amidst a throng of gathered oil folk sporting a joyous variety of shirts signifying hashes past and far-flung. The chatter was noisy and excited as the Hashmaster and lead hare called us to order. Caution was expressed over heavily nettled paths, giant rabbit holes (it was unclear if the holes were especially large or if the diggers were of some mutant strain) and busy road crossings. In all around a hundred souls, men, women and children, assembled for the 'on-on', the cry given to indicate the continuance of the trail.
Underway on a sunny, balmy evening I had cause to regret my pre-race brace almost immediately, the embarassingly loud sloshing from my belly covered only by the early gravel-crunch as we headed for the road. Within the first mile and a half we'd encountered not one but two check-back markers. To explain to the uninitiated the trail is marked by strategically placed (read: randomly dumped) blobs of flour. When the mischievious mood takes him (or her) the hare will mark a flour circle on the path; this indicates a break in the trail (possibly false trails ahead) and that the lead runners should check this out. The idea is to let the slowbies catch up and so generally keep the main pack together. A 'check back' is when all the ongoing trails are dead-ends (marked with a flour 'X') and therefore the only logical route is back the way you came. And so it continues.
Our check backs took us onto a local golf course. Hashers are no respectors of such hallowed boundaries (though I suspect one or two of my fellow runners might have been members) and we trailed across fairways and buggy paths to follow our markers. The first couple of miles were as advertised laced with heavy doses of stinging nettles and vicious tendrils of spikey bracken. Much cursing and scratching ensued as we picked our way though thick grass and woodland, the cries of 'checking!' 'Are you?' and finally 'On-on!' ringing out across the still of the Surrey evening.
Finally, mercifully, we broke into open ground, faced with a magnificent vista stretched out from this high point of the run down towards my favorite part of any hash - the beer stop. Imagine the scene; field upon field of golden wheat, a crude path cut through them, edged with hedgrows and oaks, all bathed in the hollywood golden glow of the sun setting on the far horizon. It looked for all the world like a cross between the green-screen perfection of a 300 set and an Ian Botham Shredded Wheat ad; magnificent. We ran through the fields, hearts lifted to finally be running unhindered, ankles free from the clutches of clinging undergrowth. Someone was taking photos at this point; I hope to post some here later if I can track them down.
At the end of the fields more open running, this time down a long and winding road the leads not to your door but - better yet - to the beer stop. Very hot, extremely sweaty, I was relieved to take a break, all the more so for the half-pint of TEA gratefully sucked down. Whilst this didn't help the sloshing (which had continued unabated, coupled with some unexpected heartburn, for most of the run) it made me feel much better. We'd covered around ten kilometres in an hour and twenty-two minutes with about one mile left before more beer and, for me, a curry.
Many thanks to Niguel for the invite and to Alistair for his hard work and harder trails.
A great event, I'll be back next year if they'll have me.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
