Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“Evening Vespas”

“A few Vespas around here” one of our number in The Mirth Mobile remarked as we entered the Northerly nether regions of Tegallalang on the way to Gudang and Horny Heering’s (his t-shirt name) run at Gunung Kawi last Saturday. What started as a trickle soon became a stream then a flood of the bloody things. There were Vespas up the yin yang: every conceivable color and configuration known to man and some that definitely weren’t. There were Vespas with trailers, Vespas with ape hangers, Vespas with steering wheels, Vespas that had had circumcisions for religious reasons, Vespas the color of Fukashima employees on a bad background radiation count day, Vespas whose original owners were long dead and whose remains were interred on another planet.

Then we finally encountered it, roadside on a huge grassed area the size of Luciano Pavarotti put together: yes folks that’s right, the biggest Vespa owner convention of all time! And where else would you expect to find it but smack in the middle of Bali in Northern Tegallalang. Of course that’s where it would be, it only stands to reason - nothing surprises me anymore.

After an epic struggle with a herd of massive tourist buses and did I mention Vespas? We finally made it to the run site. This is where we encountered a relieved White Bait who was extremely glad he made it there as he actually went to the wrong Gunung Kawi at first. Can you believe it? Silly fellow, ho ho, hee hee, ha ha, it is to laugh. I didn’t even know there was another one. How long have we been here on this sceptered isle? Never mind (too long?) In the absence of a Hash Master, Gudang addressed us in Nosferatu tones: a one hour walk on the short and a two (TWO!) hour short on the long were to be expected, and we took off up the hill through the kampong with the “No Blow Jobs” sign on the door, left hand side of the street, but I’ll get to that later.

“NO” I hear you anxiously retort, you want to hear about that right here and now! Alright then, you dirty bastards. This infamous sign is run past by hashers every time we start from this obyek wisata with little comment. If you ask me it’s an obyek wisata in itself and deserves a few lines. This work of art consists of silhouetted figures rendered in the style of pedestrians crossing a road or children in a school zone, but with a much more lurid “flavor” so to speak. A male silhouette is in an upright pose leaning back cigarette hand, hands on hips while a female clip-art outline with a ponytail is getting busy on her knees in front of him. You don’t actually see the action indicated as there is a circle with a “no go” bar running through it that obscures the “money shot”. There, satisfied you prurient buggars? What does it mean? I have no idea unless it prohibits that kind of activity in that particular doorway, in daylight hours at least, but I’m surprised it doesn’t attract busloads full of camera wielding Japanese tourists from down the road clicking away for all they’re worth.

Now where was I? The run, yes, this was an absolute delight and one of the best if not the best this taxation year so far. The scenery was magnificent and the run cleverly concocted to take us zig zagging through lush padi and sloshing through at least 500 meters of bone (and other things depending on height and gender) chilling river and shady canopy. The checks (and even the split) were cunningly clever and kept us well and truly on our toes. The trail sent us slogging up valley walls and admiring the palm and jungle vistas below crisscrossing the river several times, which took full advantage of its cooling properties on a fairly hot day even this far up the mountains. The paper was a bit confusing somewhere in the middle of the short where it appeared as if the hare either changed his mind or was briefly abducted by aliens, which left a perfectly legible and generously papered trail up to the top of a section of terraced padis then back down again to the exact spot from where it diverged without a hint of a circle or cross, hmmm. In fact, yours truly happened to be in front of a handful of Hashers at this point, who chastised me mercilessly for my perceived gravely foolish detour (harrumph and ahem).

The only mar on the whole affair was at the first traffic bridge where motor bikes with trash bearing locals stopped to heave the days collection over the railing and into an otherwise dramatically attractive gorge, thus creating a truly disgusting glacier of garbage cascading down the sides of a completely and horribly maimed piece of natural beauty. What a crying shame, but otherwise the run was as novel as all get out and unanimously praised by even those not given to outbursts of overt enthusiasm (Balderdash, not that I know him too well, nor will mention him by name).

We were fortunate to have Wooden Eye to drench virgins with his cluster but the circle never really got off the ground, other than the episode in which in which Jangle Balls was persuaded by Tampon to “simulate” biting a Harriet’s bum. Hashers just would not, well, circle or keep quiet which is why they should be tracked down late at night during the week and killed. No, that would be wrong and possibly illegal. Hilarity ensued anyway at social drinking, which was enthusiastically carried out to the letter by malingerers and malongerers who malingered malonger. Back on Jalan Tegallalang scary mutant Vespas lurked in the dark still.

So, thanks to Herring and Horny Gudang for a great run, and see you at Tampaksiring on Saturday.

On on,
J.B.