Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“One Flew Over The Labia’s Nest”

Auman is where last Saturday’s Hash was located and pretty much what I said when the Hash Map was sent out last week: “Ow man! That’s a helluva long drive for a Saturday Hash”, but it takes a not particularly tall man to admit he was wrong, and I am that very man. It was around an hour and a half door to door to Labia’s House Of Funk up in them thar hills. Once you are out of Blakiuh and Petang in general, the driving becomes a sheer pleasure through, by turns, undulating and spectacular green scenery with nary a four wheeled vehicle to be seen on the winding country roads.

We seemed to pass the time profitably enough anyway, pissing ourselves and giggling like the juveniles we are at heart over wisecracks no one of our advanced maturity has any business finding humourous (typical Hash Saturday behavior in other words). The only adult in the Mirth Mobile was a solemn 17-year old, whose name on pain of death I cannot reveal and I’m afraid must remain in a Hash file locked in a concrete vault with 6 feet walls on a distant planet for another 500 millennium (Balderdash - his name, that is).

Arriving at the scene relatively early we found that quite the crowd had already materialized and were milling around the dusty precincts of Labia Manor. This for some reason, after driving for a while through the hills virtually without seeing another living soul, came as a bit of a shock – especially seeing as a lot of them were rank and file virgins. We decided to inspect the establishment and take a stroll as Prince Charles would say “Arind the Grinds” with a view, in my case, of staying the night. The red brick bar and dining area looked cozy and inviting, and had incredibly clean windows (yes!). It also boasted a lone Halloween figure in dark garb with a frighteningly grotesque visage. At first I thought it was a horrifically deformed and recently exhumed Freddy Kruger, but soon realized it was only Keith Richards when it spoke, telling me the guest rooms were upstairs, mate. These were also spick and span and spacious while not being Buckingham Palace, but more than good enough for me. The deal was sealed, I was to be a paying guest at Labia Hall.

And I do recall a run being involved at some point, don’t I? Labia sent us off up an asphalt road the quality of which made a mockery of most roads in Sanur, Denpasar and the badlands in general (it may have even been cambered properly) with the words “Not so hilly or steep” ringing in our innocent ears. Is it an occupational pre-requisite for ALL Hares to so blatantly bullshit to their gullible charges? It would appear so.

The run turned out to be as painfully perpendicular as any set at these heights and put the fittest of us through their paces. Even Mudflaps was heard to mutter at one point “That’s it, I’m doing the short” (she didn’t) between rasping gasps whilst struggling up a path that a Himalaya mountain goat would have refused on the grounds that it was too dangerous. Even up here everything was dry and brittle as testament to this year’s extended El Nino dry.

Unstable ground crumbled and gave out under our uncertain footfalls, and there was no point grasping for a hand hold as dried out branches came apart at the touch. More than one terrifying moment found me waving my arms around like a semaphore flag man gripping a piece of treacherous bamboo or hollow bark desperately trying to regain balance on the edge of some yawning precipice. One singularly unfortunate English gent put his foot directly through a bamboo bridge section and tumbled into the dry riverbed below sustaining injuries and drawing blood.

However, it was beautiful - rugged but beautiful - the views were astounding and distant and for literally miles there was no human habitation in sight. The jungle while being a bit unforgiving this week, was fascinatingly thick and without a path to follow, impenetrable looking. Naturally there was the obligatory garbage pile at the end of one quiet village we passed through on the road back, but generally speaking it was rubbish free and put one nostalgically in mind of the Bali of the 70’s and 80’s.

Back at Labia Castle Lord Lips conducted a more-hilarious-than-usual circle out of which the virgins, seemed to get a huge kick. A naming session resulted in a last minute offer of Cod Piece with which the son of Horny Herring was anointed. Labia recited his credo using a particularly colorful, repetitive and all - purpose adjective, adverb and gerund. Jangle Balls gave us an infomercial about the cancer causing sausage eating habit and possibly pussy eating habit (it’s a lifestyle choice, are you willing to take the risk?) Spook and O. Grinder ended with a particularly pants - wetting “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”

Personally, I’ve never had a better night’s sleep or more tasty rib-stickin’ country cookin’ for dinner and brekka. I’ve been known to be a picky eater occasionally, e.g. I’d rather chew on a rat’s testicle than eat some of the Hash satay sticks offered in the past, but this was excellent nosh and I’d recommend it to the Duke of Edinburgh, if he deserved it. The beer was good too. Verdict: top run, top night, top spot.

On on,
J.B.