The day started out well. Another good turnout at the Caravelle and an early afternoon shower in town looked promising for a cooler run. Unfortunately, the cooler weather didn't quite reach the run site south of Saigon. Hares Nutsucker and Tonto promised the pack virgin territory and on looking at the terrain you could see why the Hash hadn't run there before. The hares also promised a well-laid (this was a lie), well-marked (another lie) and scenic (yet another lie) trail. Tonto, the wanking, er, walking hare loaded himself up with three bottles of beer to sustain him for the trail ahead. Running hare Nutsucker seemed rather unsure of herself. Luckily she had a finely detailed hand drawn map to assist her. It would have been more reassuring if she hadn't been holding it upside down, though.

So, after a few minutes of standing around in the baking sun loading ourselves up with fluids, the Hares sent us off up the hard-packed road. We ran along, looking for flour. And ran. And ran. No flour. Nothing. Nada. Sweet FA. Until about 600 meters from the start someone spotted flour at the base of a light pole. "On! On!", called the pack. More running. A few hundred meters later, another blob was spotted. In fact, the pack spotted exactly three blobs in the first kilometer and a half of running. Well-laid, my arse. *Sigh*

Coming to a T-junction, some of us (including me, unfortunately) went left and the rest went right. After jogging up the road for a hundred meters or so, I looked back over my shoulder only to find the pack disappearing over the horizon in a cloud of dust, with nary a call of "On Back!". Methinks we'll have to open a class in Remedial Trail Calling, or something. *Sigh*

Another two klicks up the road (and two more blobs of flour, which turned out to be the sum total for the run) and we came to a river and a town. Nutsucker peered at her map and declared, "Something's wrong! This town wasn't here this morning." *Sigh*

Some kind soul gently took the map from her hand and replaced it the right way up. "Oh!", our intrepid Hare exclaimed, "We have to go back that way", pointing back the way we had come. *Sigh*. Back to the junction we went, with one little scenic loop over a bridge, just for the hell of it. On arrival back at the junction, Nutsucker suggested an extra loop before heading back to the beer. Deaf Teapot suggested heading back for the beer. Half the pack mindlessly followed the Hare, with the more intelligent of us opting to follow DT's advice, realising that we had already earned our beer and any further effort was not only pointless but also a waste of valuable drinking time.

In the fullness of time, the remainder of the pack straggled in (Peckerhead and STD committing the unpardonable sin of arriving on the back of motorbikes), followed by the walkers. The walkers reported a very interesting and scenic run ("We saw a temple!", Venom Sucker gushed. "And a banana tree!", from Sheep Sub, who was still quivering with excitement.). Have the Hares really lowered the bar for a successful run by that much? *Sigh*

The circle was ably orchestrated by Super Slag, with Peckerhead as our work-experience RA. Sinners abounded, plenty of ice for the Hares, run and walk reports were unbelievably complimentary (scores averaging 6.5, the reporters most likely either drunk and/or bribed), numerous Hashers singled out for wearing inappropriate attire (Molly complained about being nailed because she wore a miniskirt to the run. Nothing wrong with that, IMHO), Peckerhead for returning to the closet (much to the relief of those of us who are not colorblind), Pencil Dick for being pussy whipped, and Venom Sucker and Wildschwein for strolling around the trail arm-in-arm.

The On On was planned for the German Brauhaus, but on arrival it we found that the Brauhaus is closed on Sundays. The ever-resourceful pack spotted a rather large and lively Vietnamese restaurant across the road and adjourned there instead. And a damned fine meal it was, too.

On! On!

Pencil Dick