Bali Hash House Harriers 2

“Like a Recurring Bonkasa”

Collective hair went up on the backs of several HHH2 necks when we read the new Hash Map last week. “AAAAARRGH, it’s Bonkasa!”, DUM DUM, DUM DUM (Bruce The Shark music from “Jaws” punctuated with hysterical weeping). We had our various issues with the last run at this location; the Hares of course were traumatized and scarred for the remainders of their lives because of the testes elevating rapidity of the rising water levels in ole man river, and a frustrating series of unfortunate events caused by the intervention of, well, the Hares. I myself (and people who say “I myself” I sincerely believe should be executed at dawn by firing squad on Nusa Kumbangan, so I myself will do that) had a kind of “Hotel California” feeling about it, i.e. you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. I (myself) and three more idiots (themselves) got ridiculously lost in mid-long and ended up returning to the run site well after sudah malaam in a barang bekas truck to howls and cat calls of derision from the crowd - a long story. So, needles to say, we (ourselves) were a bit wary of returning to the scene of the Dee Barkle (herself).

Personally, (another Nusa Kumbangan contender, why would anything that one thinks be anything but personal?) I think Bonkasa is up there with the best run sites in Bali. And it was no disappointment last Saturday, thanks to Hares Kuda Lumping and Muddy Man (no shit, Muddy Man). What a wonderful proposition for an afternoon of jaw dropping beauty the place is. The novelty began almost immediately crossing swaying bamboo bridges balanced over rushing waters, climbing a spiral staircase and dashing through a semi-darkened cave-like area. The concrete sides of “gotts”, as promised by the Hash Monster, sorry Master, our resident Non-Cockney Labia were “slippy” and moss covered - slow going - but there were plenty of opportunities to crank up a good jogging pace out in the paddies and through kampongs. I had the mildest of conflicts with myself as to whether or not to take the long or short. As we know, even conflicts of this nature if not quickly addressed can fester and develop pustules or bubols becoming eventually gangrenous and in many cases resulting in amputation. No wait! Those are symptoms of Outer Mongolian Pony Carbuncle Disease. After the last run’s D. Bachle in Bonkasa I simply mumbled to myself a subtle “F..k the long”.
These are a few of my favourite things (as the actress said to the Bishop): The long descent on the concrete steps to the Ayung River and the subsequent path along the riverside through marvelously thick, green trees and jungle, the view from the other side of the river atop the ridge of the flowing water and now opposite valley walls. Good easily followed paper, NO GARBAGE, The button-cute, spotless and palm lined kampong road after that, and the mini - banyan forest about 2 km from Pura Dalem Bonkasa. The beer truck. The beer. The bottom of the glass. Another beer.

It’s all good, (now there’s one I wouldn’t pardon St. Francis of Assisi for using - sorry Frank order your last meal). There were a f..kload (an esoteric Turf Club decimal measurement as in “the favorite was a f..kload ahead”) of virgins in the circle this week and the Uncockney One had his work cut out for him. In the absence this week of Religious Advisor Dancing Queen, Grand Master Night Jar took to the floor and in the natural course of events began warbling (do Night Jars warble?) “Four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness” and the verses flowed freely starring Mrs. O’Malley and the amazing elastic powers of her breasts, the village idiot and the amazing elastic powers of his foreskin etc. etc. Incredibly, as if in a recurring Bonkasa, N.J. ONCE AGAIN dropped the N-Bomb (Nausea) by telling the world’s filthiest joke as he did at this very location not a month previously. Virgins were turning shades of Kelly green and mauve purple just by being in the same archipelago as “it” (the joke, not Night Jar, but then...). Surely it’s too soon for that joke to be legally told within that period.

Jangle Balls decided it was a smart move to mercilessly take the piss out of tourists in joke and song and was lucky to get away from the wantilan in one piece. Here’s an excerpt to the tune of a recognizable Wizard of Oz song:

I wouldn’t be cycling down the Bypass
Looking like a jackass especially in the rain
Talking to some other eejit with his nostril full of digit
If I only had a brain.

He may as well have waved a red flag at them, but unbelievably they actually thought it was funny in a strange and provident turn of events. Fortunately for him, there was no Bogan factor determinable.

Well folks, it’s just about that time of the week - and night - for Yours Truly to brush my teeth, kiss Mum and Dad goodnight and pop my teeth back in. See you Saturday at a locale T.B.A. Too Bloody (far) Away, just kidding.

On on.
J.B.