The Hash last Friday was hared by Lost and Found, Ab Flab, Diplomaniac and a surprise Virgin Hare, Iris, a friend and compatriot of Gabrielle. The trail was set at some distance beyond the "Bear Caves", in and around a gorgeous gorge, which the Hares discovered in the Spring, when a swift stream was running through it. Now, unfortunately, it was bone dry, but it still offered spectacular scenery, even if not a perfect running ground.
The convoy arrived punctually and disgorged quite a number of kids, almost as many as adults. However, they did their parents proud and followed happily, when at the end of the gorge Mamoun, one of the Fathers, rebelliously took over from the walkers' Hare and, not heeding the mothers' protests, lead the group back over a perilous rocky ridge.
All arrived on time at the site in a cherry orchard offering shade but no more cherries, where in the meantime, Ab Flab and her friend finished spearing the bits of meat that they had spent all previous evening (and possibly night), cutting and marinating. Wise Pranker and Omar Sharif lit the barbecues and White Thrashed started on the dowdowns, while a chilly wind was picking up from the direction of Lebanon - not the only chilly thing blowing over the border these days....
While the run got the usual, but quite undeserved booo´s, the walk was praised highly by most.
The Virgins were Iris, John from Washington DC, an optimistic student of Arabic (why nobody asked for his tel. nr?) and White Thrashed´s sister and brother-in-law, who spent the afternoon sunbathing in the camp chairs, but were spared a downdown by the RA - family connections count, I guess.
Rowdy, prevented from going to Beirut by the happenings there, was given, instead of commiseration, a downdown for getting the number of the Hash wrong. How important is that?
Next downdown was for the confused, the Hare Lost and Found who lived up to his Hash name (and also lost and found his mobile phone), and Mamoun for the crime mentioned above.
The returnees´downdown went to Mamoun´s lazy wife and son.
Iris was got again for being forgetful, but I forget now what she was forgetful about. In any case, she did not forget how to back a car and got Diplomaniac out of a tight spot, when, for reasons mainly to do with the absence of mobile signal, she had to leave before even tasting the so deliciously looking barbecue and the plentiful salad; backing is not one of her many skills. Walking back from the road to the site, Iris could sustain herself with some black cherries given to us with the usual generosity by a local family.
Guided on her way to Yaafour by the lone light of the UN position on top of the Hermon, Diplomaniac was wondering, if the nourishment ever found its way to the hungry mouths in the rapidly descending darkness. Maybe the Hash should be starting a bit earlier - if there will be one, that is....
Onon, I hope,
Diplomaniac
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