Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“Machu Picchu”, or “Japanese Tourist with Camera”

I made the above observation to a Euro-Hasher who was running close behind as we passed by the steep carved out cliffs of stone last Saturday on the Hash at Bedulu. “Machu Picchu” he cried, (which as we all know is an historical stone city in Peru, unless we don’t) gesticulating at the precipitous walls above. I responded “Japanese tourist with camera” and got a blank stare for my trouble. I really should just keep my big mouth shut on these occasions. Not everybody has the same juvenile sense of humour as me, although up ahead I heard an Aussie Hasher exclaim “Now I know where me bathroom comes from”, and a Brit ponder in reply “I wonder where they mine Bintang Singlets then”.

It’s always kind of amusing and somewhat revealing listening to various nationalities respond to imposing or remarkable sights on the Hash. True to national form a newish Indonesian Hasher on BHHH2 taking perhaps his first look at the high rock faces declared “Wah, batu” (basically “Huh, stone”) craning his neck upward. Their reactions on these occasions are nothing if not endearingly literal, much as the American “Wow, that’s a shitload of rock, dude”, which I also faintly overheard in the background. Mind you I was over the river and half way up the opposite valley wall by then, but I still heard him.

I don’t know about you, but I found last Saturday’s run very pleasantly surprising indeed, when I did actually find it (but that’s another story), with which I shall regale you now, seeing as you asked and it will help fill up a page. We proceeded as directed to the roundabout/statue on the map, turned right as directed and were confronted with a hatless and red-faced either ring–in Hare or early starter I’m not certain, Captain Pugwash, who remarked drily “I guess I’m the traffic director, then”. He advised us to turn around and backtrack to a barely visible cardboard sign BEFORE the roundabout/statue, a maneuver we could have easily performed if there hadn’t been three other Hash-mobiles attempting the same thing in a ridiculous snarl on a Jalan the width of an I-phone 4. This featured Horny Herring reversing shakily and unnecessarily for 50-odd meters. Anyway, never mind, we made it.

As I was saying before I was rudely coitus interuptus, it was an unexpectedly eventful and feature-filled run for where it was located, and many thanks to Bouncing Czech, No Deposit and Perhaps Others (not a Hash name, but might be) who put it together. The river valleys, gorges and rocks were at least as dramatic as other more Northerly locations, the crossings on bamboo bridges were deep and rickety enough to be adventuresome, and the valley wall views and padi expanses were, well kind of verging on the vast even, thank you very much. It was quite the workout too. Fortunately we had mercifully overcast conditions for at least part of the run but it was bloody hot. Even if I did find myself whipping my cap around backwards on top of my sweltering soggy head to cool down from time to time in shady, convincingly junglified areas, it was definitely a hat run.

The lager-mobile was an especially welcome sight this week. It really doesn’t matter what Hashers may say about our particular brew of the moment as opposed to others; it’s as pointless as comparing the relative merits of various breast sizes. If they’re there in front of you, you’ll take them. I enjoy a beer as much as the next man, unless of course the next man happens to be Night Jar.

The Grandster graced us with his presence once again this week and was, as usual, hilarious in the circle. The problem with him though is that I can never remember exactly what subject he was holding forth on because at the time I’m so busy pissing myself laughing, I can’t commit it to memory. This week however I do vaguely recall that political correctness had abandoned him. The “N” word, The “J” word and I believe the “C” word at some point were bandied around with some abandon. So the big three were covered, but it was still funny as shit. Dancing Queen is kind of the same, especially when he produces the Bo Peep-Hook-and-Dunny-Seat combo. That in itself, plus his accent and psychedelic rayon shorty shorts are pants-urinating enough, no matter what endless joke he tells. Who, in fact, cares about the joke, right? Not me, if it’s funny, it’s a bonus.

It did in fact rain this week while D.Q. was in the circle, but never mind. He’s kept it at bay for so long he deserves a small lapse in Thor-like ubiquity. Then there’s the argument that it could have been him that made it stop.

Anyhowdy, well done everybody who contributed to another great day on BHHH2 (TWO!) including Wooden Eye’s guest appearance – we don’t see enough of him even though there’s enough of him to see, and Jangle Balls, of whom there’s barely enough to see.

On on
J.B.