Your Faithful Scribe laid this past Saturday's trail. As advertised, it was modest in length, but challenging; there was a cookout, and the mandatory Summer pool ending. Most of it was through the Addicks Reservoir (George Bush Park), but there were bike trails and city streets as well.
My favorite parts:
- Laying trail 7:30 Saturday morn and coming across all manner of fauna: A Momma feral hog and five piglets dashing mere feet in front of my bike; two deer who seemed fearless of me, even as I walked up to them; a dodo-like bird with a long curved beak in a flock of about a hundred. Amazing.
- Also ran across a collection of teenagers belonging to some kind of camping youth group: they didn't want to be there, and the only thing they got out of the overnighter was mosquito bites. The Jonesing for cell phones, iPods, texting, Twitter and Snapchat was palpable. Suck it up, boys. God only knows how you'd react if you ever had to miss a meal.
- Lube Job showed up with The Rat attached to his helmet with so many industrial grade tie wraps holding it in place that it was clear he had no intention of surrendering it. And he didn't need to: Lube Job won the Cycho Hash for the second month in a row.
And what of the inherent contradiction? The Cycho Hash declares itself the reincarnation of Space City: kindler; gentler; not a competitive bone in the collective body; all of the pacifism without the benefit of cannabis. But then we go and encourage somebody to "win" the Hash, and even build a ritual around it.
- Cums Happily agreed to do Hash Cash whilst I was picking up the last of the provisions. When I arrived, she handed me the cash, which was organized with all bills face up and sorted by denomination. Every imperfection in the assortment of bills had been smoothed out. She might have arranged them by serial numbers, too. CH is, natch, an accountant.
- For the umpteen regular and irregular Cyco Hashers who didn't show up because of the threat of weather, maybe next time I tell you "I've got this", you will take my words to heart. As the pack assembled, a massive front moved in. The temperature dropped 15 degrees in mere minutes, and as the pack departed, the rain started. Within minutes, the front moved off, leaving the coolness behind and the trail intact. At the On On, the front once again threatened, but rain drizzled down just enough to refresh us once again. Then it moved off and the sun burst out, producing a rainbow. All in all, a glorious day.
You're welcome.
- Saturday afternoon, I got an e-mail from a Hasher who shall remain nameless who advised that "it's generally a wise idea to leave a note or map on one of the cars at the start, in case anybody arrives late". I contemplated the numerous possibilities, showing up on time being the most obvious, along with the tried-and-true Saran Crap method: start in a random direction and ride in ever-widening concentric circles until you hit flour.
Anyway, dear letter writer, maybe I left the maps off the cars because I fear complacency. Maybe I was being Edgy....
- Speaking of Saran Crap, the Cycho Hash honor system remains intact. He approached me to 'fess up that he had forgotten his wallet, and would have to pay me at the next Cycho Hash he comes to. I immediately thought of Wimpy. If you don't get the cultural reference, you're probably not Cycho Hash material.
- Puke and Twist & Shout are next month's hares. Now this should be interesting.
- And before I forget, many thanks to Li'l Pussy and FMR for the use of the domicile and their help in designing the trail.
WHP
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