Run Report

The run was held at the Tom Rose Park at 58 Wandin St. Nerang.

A group waited at the entrance gate to the park that is an equestrian centre. Several riders and their horses were present so there was a slight wait for them to clear the area. Once they had departed the throng drove in and down to the pavilion covered area, an excellent spot to start the run and right next to the State Forest.

At promptly 6.15pm the Hare, a man of obviously of few words pointed in a direction to the right saying “it’s on down that way”. The pack set off an had only gone about 50 metres when they entered a narrow track. It was already dark and hand held torches or the head band variety were definitely needed. The trail was well marked with shit paper and the hare had obviously recently been to Coles where he was one of those in the mad scramble for a supply of the stuff. It is thought though that he was not one of those persons seen on tv fighting for what they thought was rightfully theirs.

Back to the trail that continued up, down, sideways and roundabout. Where the fuck are we and completely confused? Luckily the pack took pity on the slow plodding author who was of course well behind and bringing up the rear. The pack would stop every few hundred yards or so to ensure that the rear runner could sought of catch up. With all runners having torches this was not too hard.

For some distance the trail went past a few houses that were on the right. Some occupants were observed as the trail was on higher ground than the houses. Occupants were making a noise and it was quite clear that they were not necessarily observing the required social distance apart.

Back to the run that then turned a hard left and more up and downs, slippery rocks, fallen logs and blinking toads. The first check was reached and there were subsequently four or five of them a pattern developed. The most fit runner by far YK2 Jelly would go out searching for the ON On trail to be found. The remainder of the pack, the lazy bastards just hung around the check waiting for the call. This often took sometime as the checks were cunningly set. At one stage the Hare did a “nod nod wink wink” to the Scribe who set off at his fast pace and was in the lead. Glorious lead, out in front , wind in the hair and flying. It brougt back memories of yesteryear, (twenty or thirty years) when the then younger specimen could run a bit and loved the challenge of being up front. Sadly this did not last very long and he was soon overtaken by the throng.

On two occasions the pack made way for mountain bike riders. Once from coming from behind and once from coming from the front. The riders had
exceptionally good lights on their bikes and were obviously experienced and well equipped riders.
The trail varied from time to time from soft sand, more narrow winding paths and tracks with deep furrows that had been made by tractors, heavy machinery or the like. This was all good stuff and not a centimetre of bitumen to be seen. (Get rooted you lazy suburban setting run types).

About an hour in to the run and a Hash Halt was called by the Hare. The advice was that the trail continued for about two kays with several more checks. It was suggested by the Hare that it may be appropriate for the writer and the Hare to shortcut back to the home base as the last part of the run was much more difficult with a particularly hazardous downhill part that could cause a fall and nasty result. The scribe needed no coaxing with this idea so proceeded with the Hare back to the start. Y2K Jelly on the other hand a man of obvious great strength and character was up to the challenge and decided to complete the full run. He was given clear instructions by the Hare that when he came across the checks that he should make left turns and follow the trail that would bring him home.

The short cutters arrived at home base in the time of one and a quarter hours. They then proceeded to crack a beer in comfort at the pavilion and talk the usual hash shit amusing themselves with old hash war stories.

Over and hour passed and concern was then raised that Y2K Jelly had not returned. It was decided to send out a search party. The musings were that he was either well and truly lost or had fallen and hit his head on a rock or was otherwise incapacitated.

The search party back tracked into the bush, a couple of kilometres calling out trying to locate the lost soul. A voice or so it was thought was heard from afar and a glimmer of hope was raised. Alas all went quiet again and was it our imagination running wild or perhaps it was just the moot of a lonely owl. Not long after however a somewhat dishevelled Jelly appeared coming from the opposite direction. We breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the home base where more beers were consumed.
A very informal short circle took place where there was a minute’s silence and prayer for those taking part in the Zoom video conferencing from the comfort of their lounges.

All in all a memorable night and very glad that I did not miss it. Reckon the run was a 10 out of 10.

Call me an f…n idiot if you like. I do not mind at all.
On, On
Ballbag (stand-in-scribe)