and for a brief view from a latecoming walker click here

My inaugural Hash, number 1664 (don't we know this already? - ed), began when the GM picked me up from Sanepa in his rumbling, white Land Rover. GM and Dead-in-the-Water were in the car, along with the GM's dog, Bessie. The GM whipped out that day's Kathmandu Post to showcase the big news: Dead-in-the-Water and Joss's asses were formidably featured in the Travel section of the paper. The Post's writers said something like:

“The Hash is an exhilarating yet cheap experience.”

While “exhilarating” and “cheap” are both great, I was more excited about the ass-featuring. (I'm not saying anything - GM)

I thought:

“Great! If I keep coming to this thing, maybe I can have my ass featured in the Kathmandu Post, too!”

Good journalists as they are, the writers at the Post failed to provide any contact information. (contrary to what DoggyStype was saying on this webshite - GM)

Then, the GM started lamenting about the “golden years” of the HHHH, when the group didn't include “wankers” like me and Happy Clappy, who we picked up along the way.

We arrived at the 1664 Hash location, which was at Karkigaon, north of Balaju. (that sentence was padding, rather reminiscent of a Towed Trash - GM). A surprising number of people showed up despite the perpetual monsoon rains that had most of the Hashers in a state of sog before the run even started.

The Hares for the day were HeBitch and Dr. Death. HeBitch told us:

“This run's easy. You just run up to a temple and back down the hill.”

This statement was most certainly a lie.

The run started with a bang as the runners scrambled down a muddy embankment and proceeded to precariously teeter on the mud dividers between rice paddies. The runners continued on at a frenetic pace, looking for the “blobs of paper” on the ground (we musn't include Hole-in-One in this looking activity - GM). The experienced Hashers told me the rules of the paper trail, but I thought that every time we passed a “blob,” it could have easily been mistaken for a pile of rubbish left by a villager.

The route wound us through some spectacular backdrops, including lush green rice paddies (Dead-in-the-Water, are you impressed?), small clusters of brick homes and herds of baby goats. Cutting through the impressive scenery, a welcome change from Kathmandu city, was the GM's “encouragement”:

“FUCKING WANKERS! KEEP RUNNING! WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS, A VACATION?”

We proceeded to cross several rivers, with the help of Kimmo, who flung us across the raging waters one by one. After about 45 minutes, the rains subsided and the sun made its appearance. It was a welcome change in weather because I was beginning to fear that my mud and waterlogged running pants would fall off. As the run continued, I was thoroughly impressed by the talking ability of Lady Chatterly and Shuttlecock, who gabbed for the majority of the run.

About an hour and a half later, the runners made it back to the beginning, mud-caked, sweaty and ravenous. Luckily, there was food and drinks for all and HeBitch even passed around some heavenly brownies (from Dr Death's didi's oven I believe - GM).

The circle commenced with the GM's demands and the virgins, including me, Laura, Kieh and Beth were initiated. Then, the GM “punished” the Hashers for various things like private-partying, wearing holey and non-holey tights and falling during the run. The GM “punished” a group of three with mugs of beer because they were texting during the circle. We all concluded that they were most likely texting their loved ones: “I'M IN HELL!!!” The GM and David (In-and-Out) christened themselves the “handsome bastards,” and proceeded to go to the center of the circle to show off their good looks.

We considered the possibility of HHHH t-shirts, which would cost 700 rupees, but the money would be donated to a charity. Someone asked if we could donate the charity money to ourselves to cover the increased beer costs. The GM then complained about his dwindling pension fund.

After the circle, the ex-virgins gathered around the Hashit and stared in awe at the acrobatic prowess and erotic nature of the goblet's metal figurines. (Can we anticipate the same from the one who drank from it, I wonder? - GM)

“Wait... Is he doing his own wrap-around ball grab?” we pondered.
“Wait... Are they lesbians?” we asked each other.
“No, definitely not,” we concluded.

All in all, Hash 1664 was a smashing success. Everyone returned home in good spirits, with minimal leech bites and excited for more abuses, I mean excitement, next week.