Run Report for Run Number 139 -- September 27, 2015;
Run 139A at Quy Nhon and Run 139 B at Patricks Wine Bar
HARES: PENCIL DICK AND DICK FROMAGE
PACK: 139A 12 if you count Just Ellie and ILL CONCEIVED
PACK: 139B 27
It was 3.30am Saturday and it had been a hard night of partying. The train to Quy Nhon was due to leave in 35 minutes. Just enough time to quickly pack and race to the station!
Two minutes to go and all the usual suspects had assembled. The train was so very old and the seats were falling to pieces but we slept like babies…. Especially ILL CONCEIVED.
8.30am saw us arrive at the little station of Quy Nhon and then jump in taxis to our lodgings. We had an Esplanade position for the price of a backpacker room….. bargain!!! It sure helps the bottom line when you are staying in a “yet to be discovered” location.
After eating, sleeping, swimming, exploring, sleeping again…… we met up with our host PENCIL DICK at the salubrious, Seagull Hotel, 3.30pm. A pack of 12 Hashers was about to commence their Saturday mountain-climbing adventure.
Stage 1 of Run 139A
After being taxied out of town, we were shown an area where few locals traverse… yes our host took us to an active leper colony. It was located in the most glorious location, directly on the beach…. The disease is now curable so apart from missing fingers etc, the folk living there were quite ok. However there were many empty houses because locals in the area believe they will become sick if they take up the very kind Government offer of free accommodation.
With the educational part of our Hash trail over we then commenced to climb way up into the mountains. At various points up the mountain, we said hello to fine statues of the Virgin Mary and other deities. Its always intriguing how these statues are transported up goat tracks. The hike was fascinating. E CUP is a born mountain climber and was constantly spotted posing on tiny peaks... the views were awesome… and the hike was long and arduous.
Before we realized our fate, darkness fell upon us. Our host apologized for his tardiness in getting us caught on a tiny goat trail on a mountain in the pitch black…. Hmmmmm!!!!
DOSAGE cannot see very well in the dark in thick vegetation with pot-holes all around her. She relied heavily on INDECENT EXPOSURE’S torch light. DINGO has excellent night vision and used it to get down the mountain very quickly and start drinking beer…. with never a second thought to the tottering, blind, baby-toting, helpless remainder of the Pack. Even JUST ELLIE the dog, showed more consideration. She refused to leave us and shepherded us the entire distance.
Miraculously we all came out of it alive and unscathed…. And we still have all our fingers and toes so haven’t contracted any diseases at this stage.
After the de-brief including our tales of misery and woes as we descended the 530cm wide dirt track in the middle of the jungle, in complete darkness…. We had the Circle… No icings but plenty of laughter.
A seafood banquet followed at a local restaurant
Stage 2 of Run 139A
It was Sunday morning, our heads were sore, so were our arms, legs and every inch of our bodies. We were scratched, bruised and probably infected with leprosy!!!
We met at 9.30ish at Seagulls and off we went to do it all again. The walk, …..yes, the runners decided to walk too…..was flat but incredibly scenic. The army had set up a shooting range overnight in a paddock right in the middle of our trail… so we prudently short-cut that section.
The Circle was in a restaurant specializing in chicken dishes…. Right in the middle of the countryside, perfect for a Circle and a long lazy afternoon of drinking and card playing…. Sleeping and doing absolutely nothing.
Then it was back on the bastard train again. It left precisely at 4.30pm from the quaint little Quy Nhon Station, but instead of arriving in Nha Trang at 9pm, we arrived just before midnight…. Yeah you heard correctly. Apparently our status of a "little local train", gave us no grunt in priority when we hit the main track. We kept pulling over into sidings while the big bastards sped past.
All in all a massively fun weekend!!!!
Run 139 B from Patricks Wine Bar.
Just Be was only seven years old. She was a well-behaved child, much-loved by parents, family and friends. So what had she done to deserve this? She’d been on a long, tiring afternoon walk with her Mum and some friends and a distinctly odd bunch of foreigners. At the end of the walk there had been some soft drinks and salad which was rather nice and then the grown-ups had formed a circle and started singing rude songs whilst some poor souls were slowly tortured by having to sit on ice. Just Be watched for a while but soon decided that wanted none of this and so had slipped from the circle to play kick--a-can with a couple of friends who had also been on the walk.
Then suddenly a gap appeared in the circle and an ugly, bald guy adorned with all manner of tattoos strode from the centre of the circle, looked down angrily at her and her two playmates and shouted “You three; no private parties! On the ice!”
Her friends giggled, ran into the circle and sat down on the ice but it was all too much for Just Be. She felt her bottom lip trembling and ran to her mother, clutching her mother’s legs in fear and trepidation. But the ugly guy was insistent. “You, girl, on the ice!”
Just Be squeezed her mother as if her life depended on it and burst into tears...
How had it all ended up so badly. She’d set off earlier that afternoon with Mum and her friends and joined a group of others outside Patrick Wine Bar. Perhaps, looking around, she should have realised then. Most of the foreigners looked like they were habitual drunks and there was something not quite right about the Vietnamese. They all jumped on a bus and headed north out of town to a side street on the outskirts of town where they all disembarked. They formed a circle and the bald tattooed guy and a crazy-haired tattooed woman gave some sort of directions using chalk and shredded paper. Just Be didn’t understand a word but suddenly they were off. The walk took them past a military cemetery, up a long winding path to a pagoda on the hill and then back down a long path on the other side of the hill. Then meandering through an area of quiet, residential streets before, f*ck me, another long trek uphill! Then another long downhill, a few more residential streets and back to where they had started. What was the point in that? She could have just stayed there drinking Coke!
Anyway, a beautiful blonde girl and an odd-looking guy had served up some salad and banh mi and a big box of cold drinks was made available.
Then the walkers had formed a circle. The tattoed guy, whom people seemed to refer to as Cuntstubble Pantless, was the first to be placed on the ice. Three people took turns at denigrating what Just Be had considered to be an outstanding walk. Again, very odd names; Cockstopper, Next Week and Pickle Dick. A shifty looking guy called Sandy Crack forced four people onto the ice for wearing hats! What sort of people were these? A girl called Tillfingerer (surely not) was iced for eating unauthorised foodstuffs. Then Pickle Dick and Knob Doctor each made some convoluted and indecipherable accusation which resulted in some hapless innocent being dragged, screaming onto the ice. There were some other icings but by then Just Be was losing the will to live and slipped away with two of her friends. But not for long.
Much to her horror, Cuntstubble Pantless demanded that she and her friends get on the ice. She ran to her mother but the frankly terrifying sight of the ugly, angry CP bearing down on her was too much and she crumbled.
The members of the circle looked at CP in disbelief. Cruel, insensitive, heartless bastard!
“Cuntstuble Pantless”, they cried as one. “Get on the ice...”
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If you like a regular social (or anti-social) gathering with a couple of drinks (or more) and a bit of sweat, the Hash might be something for you. The Hash is a very social and international, recreational cross-country running for fun activity. Put simply: we run, socialize and drink a little beer.
Nowadays an estimated 2000 chapters, spanning all 7 continents uphold this tradition on a regular base.
Before the Nha Trang Hash had even held its first event it was already featured in Harrier magazine!