Bali Hash House Harriers 2

Secreted Agent (The Whiff of a Distant Turd)

Firstly my apologies for a non-Trash week last week due to a top secret meeting with my superior who can only be referred to by an unbreakable and highly sophisticated code (“M”) in a secretly coded location (“K.L.”) on our handling of a certain (“U.S.”) Republican electoral candidate (“T. Ronald Dump”). Under no circumstances whatsoever can I reveal the outcome of this meeting, or my own classified status (“Make it look like an accident, 007.” “Yes Sir or Ma’am.”) But of course I jest, no politics or high level assassinations on the Hash, as you all know. So I now have two (TWO!) hashes and a rather hefty body bag to deal with. We’ll take a two (TWO) pronged approach to the Hash Trash this week, shall we?.

Prong 1: The Easter run at Puri Titi Gantung, which I believe when translated means the following - gantung: “hold on to” and “titi”, which is self-evident. This event was hosted by that Dynamic Duo, Batman and Robin, just kidding it was actually Bruce Wayne and his dick, Ward Grayson, no it was Horny Herring and Gudang. The run site was a rarely used but beautiful location just the other side of a bridge spanning an absolutely drop dead (if you fell off it) gorgeous and incredibly deep valley coming in at around the 150 mt mark with a distant river below looking like a trickle at that height . You couldn’t actually appreciate the depth of the bloody thing until you were at the handrails which at that point if you are like me and enjoy up close, huge and dramatic drops about as much as testicular surgery, it almost induced a bowel motion. Just as I was peering nervously at the abyss a local wag pulled a skiddie on his Mio right behind me which caused me to instantaneously hop a little more toward the chasm, which in turn caused a fit of butt clenching and something similar I’m sure to arrhythmia. Not the most pleasant of moments. I gave Evel Keneval a dark stare that would have felled a water buffalo in other circumstances (though I’m having trouble imagining them) and moved on.

Apart from that, how was the drive Mrs. Kennedy? (har). This was a really good run if you ask me, and if you don’t. For some unknown reason it started out with a burst of energy from everyone I was running with anyway and we were zig zagging at speed through wild banana trees and scrubby bush. Possibly this was because the people I was running with were Hashers from Guam in their 20’s who were gaily decorated with tattoos and pithy life philosophies. This cracking pace continued for no other apparent reason until we emerged from the jungle onto a really well laid and of course completely deserted asphalt Jalan. The heat was taking its toll, I was dying of extreme thirst and a local hasher insisted on buying me a coconut at an isolated warung, which I promptly down downed like an idiot. With around a pint and a half of coconut milk sloshing around in my gut, I had about as much acceleration capability as a fire hydrant. The rest of the run was an extremely pleasant (and very slow) stroll around the perimeter of the monkey forest which featured quite a few scratching screeching little primates, and some monkeys.

Prong 2: April Fool’s Day run by Chicken Shit at the Mambal Swimming Pool. Let’s “spice things up” by using the popular Q and A format for this run. Q: Have we ever run from this site before A: Are bears catholic? Does the Ayatollah shit in the woods? Q: Is that the whiff of a distant turd? A: Yes, it’s Donald Trump. Q: Did legendary fast talking Bali Hasher Bent Banana show up totally unexpectedly with his spouse, offspring and several grandchildren A: He talks so fast he could kill a brown dog at 50 yards. Q: Did Seaman Stains, also unconscionably absent for two years, rear up too? A: Yes, he’s been house sitting and those chimneys can be uncomfortable. Q: Have we had enough spice now? A: indubitaboopitably

Chicken Shit’s stated objective was to set a “traditional” run harking back to the days when there were plenty of checks that kept the pack together, and a Hash wasn’t an 13 k endurance rally featuring packs of whippet thin, overwhelmingly French Francophiles, there were no middle-of-the-night-lost-virgin freakouts and people actually enjoyed the run as a social get together. Q: And was this Successful? A: Hey wait a minute, didn’t we just agree to stop that bullshit? Oh, sorry, yes he did by and large succeed plus the run had some real moments of spectacular scenery. There were always lofty volcanos in the distance and the padis were as lush and green as they get. The pack more or less stayed together though there were still some elements of tiresome, over-zealous competitiveness, not C.S’s fault. So thanks to a great run by the Chicken Shitter and personally I would like to see more of these types of single run runs. Anybody disagree? The pen is mightier than the sword, you know. Okay, okay, stop rattling those sabers and waving those samurais at me and I promise not to hurt you with my mouse. Q: Have we run out of prongs? A: No more prongs.

See you next Saturday at Deadwood (or is that the Hare’s name?)

On on

J.B.