Most of the hares went down to Can Tho on Thursday’s ferry. It was with some relief that we boarded this vessel at 1255 for a 1300 departure. The uncertainty factor surrounding this vital journey had been huge. Daily telephone enquiries during the previous week had produced the following responses: it was sailing, it was not sailing, it might be sailing, it will sail at 0800, it won’t sail at 0800 or 1300 and interestingly, what ferry? Nothing is ever easy in Vietnam! The boat journey was exciting as the driver knew only 2 speeds. Playing dodgems at 40 knots with fully laden sand barges in narrow canals certainly kept the boredom factor at bay. Does anyone know why one company takes sand from Can Tho to Saigon and another company brings it all back again? Our journey was interrupted at one point for re-fuelling. All the foreign passengers extinguished their cigarettes. The driver, standing beside the fuel inlet and below a ‘No Moking’ sign, immediately lit up! With only the odd swamped boat in our wake, we eventually reached Can Tho after a 4 hour white knuckle ride. After checking in and a change of underwear, we headed along the waterfront to try the delights of The Mekong Delta Restaurant. This modest little eatery was to be our base for the week end.

Good To The Last Drop was in charge of arrangements, ably assisted by Mrs Ha, our boat lady for the Hash. On Friday morning at 0900, the Hares set off by boat to the land based pillar of the new Can Tho bridge. It was going to be a long hot day. The temperature in Can Tho is a good 5*C warmer than Saigon and the humidity is much more noticeable. We sweated and grumbled along a never-ending river-side concrete path for what seemed like a life-time. Eventually, we made it to a large piece of open ground where we were surprised by a small buffalo herd that appeared, as if by magic, just 30 metres in front of us. They had been doing the only sensible thing on a hot, humid day and we had disturbed their wallow. It was just amazing to see 20 heads appear one by one, seemingly from nowhere. As we got closer, they decided to leave their small wallow in the hollow and ambled off to quieter pastures. Our duties done, we enjoyed a relaxing boat journey home and a cold beer at the Mekong. That evening, we all went to a party at Good To The Last Drop’s modest home.

The rest of the Saigon Hash turned up at mid-day on Saturday. Bush Pisser and friend took one look at the blazing tropical sun and retired to the pool side of their 5 star hotel, never to be seen again! Woofter, Good To The Last Drop, Mighty Quinn and Titanic Balls had just returned from setting the trail for Sunday so we all exchanged gossip and pretended we hadn’t seen each other for months. News reached us the Phnom Penh Hash was having trouble getting across the border. They were further delayed because their bus was involved in a couple of minor motor bike accidents. We agreed to meet them for dinner. At 1500, 45 hashers from Saigon and Can Tho boarded their boats and cruised over to the far side of the river for the start point. Most of the trail was along a new concrete path that followed the river and then cut left along a canal. Although there were few options for false trails and checks, those that were laid seemed to work. El Flatulante and Doggy Style did their best to extend an 11 Km run, sniffing out the wrong trails with odds defeating certainty. After 90 minutes of hot and sweaty toil the front runners made it back to the Down Down site. This was a small tin roofed cafe, set up to cater for the bridge construction workers. What they made of our antics can only be guessed at. Some of the slower runners and all of the walkers were briefly delayed because a crucial gate had been locked by an angry owner. He threw Nut Sucker to the ground and then berated the other Hounds. He was lucky the gate was now locked or Nut Sucker would have had him. Another route was found and they joined the front runners just before they disappeared in a pool of sweat. According to Bush Wallaby, that was, by a long way, the hottest run he has done with Saigon Hash. He didn’t get much of an argument on that score.

GM welcomed everyone to the Circle and then handed over to the RA, Titanic Balls. His usual fare of nubile Virgins was not available so instead, he introduced the Can Tho Hashers and a couple of the guys who had traveled independently from Phnom Penh. Pencil Dick was asked to do the honours with the Hares but he just went and sat on the ice. Whenever ice, Hares and Pencil Dick are mentioned in the same sentence he just heads for the ice. Mind you, it was very hot so he might just have been playing it smart! Good To The Last Drop, Raymond, David and Graeme were then thanked for their efforts in organising, sponsoring, cooking and recce-ing, respectively, the Can Tho Away Hash. As this was supposed to be Titanic Balls last stint as RA before he leaves us for the States, he was thanked by GM for all his past efforts and then presented with a lovely bouquet of flowers by our resident Metrosexual, Tonto. Formal proceedings over, Woofter then charged Tonto and Nut Sucker for supporting the tennis that seems to be a permanent and boring feature of most sports channels these days. Good To The Last Drop was charged because it was Germany that instigated the Olympic Torch farce in 1936. The Australians joined her for re-introducing this boring Olympic Torch nonsense in 2000. Finally, the Americans were brought up for boring the pants of the world with their never ending Presidential Elections.

Most of us were showing signs of recovery by this stage so it was agreed we should try and name Jennifer and Justin. An ambitious move, some would say, as we had failed on 2 previous occasions. They are from New Zealand, he works in rubber and she is a teacher. You would think it was a No Brainer and perhaps that was the problem. We struggled to get past Bum Gravy and Latex Lamb before someone came up with Ballroom Bitch for Jennifer because she likes to dance. The ice was obviously getting to her because she immediately suggested Almost In for Just In. These names were thankfully accepted by their fellow hounds and RA completed the naming ceremony. Doggy Style was heard to mutter, ‘Considering the time they have spent on the ice, Torvil and Dean would have been more appropriate.’ They both appeared at the dinner that evening, so no long term damage was done by Ballroom Bitch’s suggestion.

We got back to Can Tho exactly on time and readied ourselves for the Hash Grand Dinner. This was held in a restaurant within 5 minutes walk of where most people were staying. By now, the incredible organisation shown by Good To The Last Drop was beginning to concern some of the more traditional Hashers who were nervously looking over their shoulders trying to spot the impending disaster. They were going to be disappointed. The Phnom Penh Purple Pansies joined us and we had a very agreeable dinner. What a grand sight we all made, decked out in our new Can Tho T-shirts, care of Mighty Quinn. Just don’t try to wash them in hot water! At 2200, some of the older and wiser heads called it a night. The younger and more enthusiastic Hashers went back to the Mekong where they set new records for beer drinking and late closing.

That’s it,

Woofter

[Note: Hash Stats has yet to retrieve the sign-in sheets from Nutsucker's clutches, so the attendence list below was put together through alcoholic mists of the weekend. If your name isn't listed, please be patient.]

[Update! P2H3 posted their own version of the weekend's events. Here is Blah Blah's run report, which we've gleefully cribbed from the P2H3 blog]
Run report: Blah Blah

The Bus Diaries - a journey of discovery

Shaking off the cob webs after two days of free beer would be challenging for any, however to do it at 6:30am was the hurdle set by Tokyo Joe as a group of intrepid hashers met outside Wat Lanka for a trip to join the Saigon H3 in Can Tho, Vietnam. The day started off well, we made good time, we were in high spirits, we arrived at the wrong border crossing. Yes, despite the flagrant use of Tokyo Joe’s GPS, the bus company took us to Chrey Thum crossing only to discover foreigners cannot cross. Back on the bus, back up the Bassac, back to Takmau and back on to the original plan of going to Phnom Den. Despite losing a couple of hours the pack was still feeling the love, with Josh in particular taking the extra time to muse the mysteries of lactating males and a series of photos he recently saw of what sounded like a mass mooning exercise. Still we were not to be beaten and once through the border crossing were on our way when…. thump…..our new bus driver managed to clean up two motorcycles in one cunning maneuver. Off to the clinic we go.

Needless to say after all of these delays we arrived at the end of the hash and hence missed the first run. Still, enthusiasm abounded and donning the P2H3 silk bow ties supplied by Tokyo Joe we made our way to the dinner and later in the evening to the Mekong Restaurant where Flying Plod, Blah Blah & Mr Tinkle took particular delight in joining the silken clad Just Add Beer in a rendition of songs eminently suitable for children television shows. Magic Mushroom and Tinkle Spinner set about charming the Saigon Hash with their usual aplomb and Saigon Hasher Pencil Dick pitched in with a particularly fine ad-libbed verse to one of our tunes.

The next morning the pack boarded a boat with around 30 Saigon hashers and off we went for the run. The Saigon H3 had done a 12km run the day prior so were a little weary as were the P2H3 after their 14 hour bus ride. None-the-less a number of runners set off with Yap Yap off at a good pace in order to snap some photos and Naomi showing all the Saigon Hash her derriere as we went through a pleasant route amongst the canals of Can Tho. The circle saw the return of the aubergine, exquisitely dressed in its P2H3 silk tie, and the admission by Fester that he as actually Festering Chronic Masturbator, a fact he somehow forgot to convey to the Saigon Hash during his stay in Ho Chi Minh. Mighty Quinn was also forced by Tokyo Joe to admit that her mother hash was not the Saigon Hash as she has always claimed but in reality the P2H3. A day for releasing suppressed information indeed.

Many thanks go to Good to the Last Drop and the GM Woofter for putting on a good show and showering us with left over t-shirts from some abstract joint run they had with the Vung Tau Hash years in the past. We look forward to reciprocating at some stage when the trauma of the bus ride is but a faded memory.

The hash then split with some heading off to Ho Chi Minh and the rest boarding yet another bus for the trip to Ha Tien, beaches and lovely Vietnamese waitresses. However that is another story