January 2013 | By: The Scrutable Scribe
Pura Ukur Ukur Ukur Ukur Ukur Ukur
This is how many different directions you can take off in and find great hashing territory from this beloved site in Pejeng. It's a bit like Mahi Mahi, the fish so nice they named it twice. This week's run was no exception, an absolute ripper put together by the duo of Comes Up and Goes Down. Words elude me, I hear your derisive snorts from here, I care not, and they do (words, elude me, that is). It was extremely pretty, especially the very long section of concrete subec adjacent an amazing valley in the middle of the run during which a serendipitous downpour poured down just as we were sweating like Indian rapists and getting a tad hot and bothered, despite the shady overhang. I believe we took off in a south westerly direction this time, swung north and pretty much hued generally to that until we turned, headed south and home; about 7 k on the short, 10 on the long.
I've gotta say though, it was a bit disturbing to see the big blue Japanese back hoe in action and the newly carved potential (probably) asphalt roads in mid - formerly quiet and beautiful countryside, lending yet more credence to those who tell us to see Bali while it's still there. Oh well, can't keep 'em in a museum. I don't know what happened to the "moratorium" on hotel building in southern Bali either, but currently there are three huge developments of that very nature in Sanur and another one pending. Let's not go there, rampant and irresponsible development in Bali, where?
Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, our inside Pejeng measurements and directions, which I wouldn't let out on the street if I were you (personally, I Pejeng on the left). Don't get your Ukur Ukurs in an uproar nor your Pejeng Kelods caught in a wringer. Bali will be Bali until it isn't.
Despite the hares being spied returning with what looked like a couple of hundred kilos of paper, there was curiously little of it from time to time on the actual run. There was definitely more than the regulation 10 paces between shreds on occasions and precious few of those – rain perhaps, alien abductions, leprechauns? It wasn't the end of the world as it turned out (again), but (naughty, naughty) a few times given the choice of two paths, it wasn't abundantly clear which was the papered one. Sing ken ken, tidak apa apa, with a run this good who gives a rodent's rectum? (me, apparently.)
The circle was once again a bespattered affair, but a quite spirited one this week. Sgt. Major Nightjar returned us to WW2 with a fine rendition of "Livin' off the Earnin's of an 'igh Born Lady" (gord blimey), and the dueling duo of Konkorde and Jangle Balls told jokes 'til our ears bled (except one of Nightjar's), our back teeth were underwater and we could take no more. Despite tropical torrents and Turret's syndrome - level heckling from R.M. Dog, the show went on with all manner of characters contributing. I swear I saw Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck in there at one point but it could have been just pink elephants or Dancing Queen.
Ring Master Wooden Eye finally announced social drinking at some ridiculous hour and we pissed wetly off shortly after huddling under brollies. See you for Ocker Day next week.
On on.
