A Wildman Trail

If you’ve been paying attention, you may have noticed that Wildman has been writing comments (honor to all those who take the time to write trash or otherwise comment about the trail) to the trashes on the website detailing how the ideal trail should be laid. He has written wise words about keeping the pack together, and how a good check should function. He has written hard fast rules stating that “you can’t lay a good live trail when you are a solo hare given with about 15 minutes a head start.” He has even gone as far as to rate Tard Core and Flaming’s last trail an 8 out of 10. So you would think that with all this wisdom, insight, and profound arrogance, that we really would have been in for a real treat with Wildman as our intrepid co-hare along side Fuu Fuu last night. But it soon came quite clear, that even our most veteran hasher, with all the technical knowledge and hare-brained theories, can lay a shitty trail.We convened on the side of a random street on Mount Tabor to immediately find evidence of pre-laying, and it was clear that the great FRB Wildman couldn’t even lay a good live trail with a capable co-hare.  As our hare, Fuu Fuu, set off alone (because his counter part was still a mystery), he conspicuously jetted into the dark woods.

The beginning of the trail showed promise–there was a fair amount of shiggy and the falses kept the pack together for a while.  But it wasn’t long before the FRBs broke off from the rest, and Cockjaw, Gayzelle, Chubby Chaser, and I waited at the first beer check for a good 15 minutes until we were joined by the rest of the hounds, who complained that they somehow followed flour all the way out to Hawthorne.  Some how our tyrant, Bee Fuck, lost trail completely and never showed up for beer.

As much of a cluster the first leg the trail was, the second was like it’s mentally deficient bastard cousin. After following a steep hill covered in blackberry brambles, we completely lost trail, and it took some wandering until we finally found a check. But unfortunately there was no way to tell which way the trail went.  The arrows on trail (there were more than enough), had no directionality and were little help.  So some of us went one way, and the rest, the other, with no better than a 50/50 chance of moving towards the all too allusive beer.   I was unfortunately  on the losing half of those odds, and we ran off in the wrong direction for quite some time before realizing our mistake.  O, being the slave to technology that he is, finally called Fuu Fuu to find trail, who simply told us to go back to the start.

So my dreams were crushed, my first chance to experience the highly revered trail (revered by Wildman anyway) of Wildman, and I had to spend 2/3rds of it walking a Beeline off trail to the start.  What a disappointment.

The On In was at a beautiful little cove in the woods, complete with a fire pit, big wieners, and a block of ice.  Honor to our hares for a fantastic On In location. After last week’s less than smooth religion, half minds were on their best behavior (in a drunken stupor) and Cockjaw was in true form.  Honor to Cockjaw for a quick recovery and showing us what a good religion should be.

Let’s all continue to learn from Wildman’s wealth of experience, even if that means what not to do, and remember that we’re all half minds, despite what our mothers tell us.

Sunday: A Sunday jaunt through Forest Park at 10:00 am
Monday:  Cums Liberally and Twatsicle do the Kahuna at the Barbur Transit Station in SW
Tuesday: Big Shitter eats a Beaver
Wednesday: Heavy Flow Day and Sixty K-9 deflour Just Danielle at the Hump
Thursday: Gym Nasty does the No Name


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