R2H3 Trail Trash #109

R2H3 Trail Trash #109 - Farmer John's Folly

Only the most intrepid hashers showed for this one and they were easy to count! A pack of three and two hares. Just like the oldest of times!

The start was an old warehouse about halfway between Highway 27 and Highway 53 along Highway 140 up north in Armuchee. This has been an intriguing area for me as it looks some adventure could be had. And I was right.

Since there was no volunteer for bimbo duties, Yes They Match volunteered to give up her haring duties and throw Vincent VanBlow to the dogs. He presented the group with the new Beer-Munity Belt since Terrorish allowed a homeless person to wander off with the cherished trinket during the last hash. A belt, you see, will not smack the finder in the face so much he explained before he was off to parts not yet know.

The pack was already warm due to the 90 degree heat and sun so Joe was so damn busy he told his boss to ef off right out of the gate and the pack was off. We ran behind the warehouse and around the other side and then suddenly found marks through a guy's front yard. Shitigation spoke to the unsuspecting homeowner who advised his dogs were barking but he had seen no one. We found trail behind the gentleman's house and Hugh was chased by his dogs before stepping over the fence to meet Farmer John face to face as he sat upon his trustee Honda.

Now, you see, often a pack may find themselves on private property by mistake or by design and occasionally (and hopefully) the property owner is either amused or prepared in advance for the pack's arrival. Well, today neither was the case. In fact Farmer John was far from amused and was not willing to accept most any explanation from the well meaning adventurous pack. Instead, Hugh and Purple Pill found themselves escorted from his property with haste. They could only hope that Shitigation was treated with such kindness, was not detained further or placed in shackles.

So Hugh and PP set off east bound on 140 to a creek that Hugh knew existed as they planed to try to make for Armuchee Creek. Going was pleasant until the creek raised to the height of the pair's nether regions and then finally to the top of their heads - who said head? Relegated to swimming, Hugh and Purple Pill made for the bank only to discover they were not clear of Farmer John's land. Believing they were far enough to evade view and imminent capture, they threw caution to the wind, scampered up the muddy bank and sprinted for the woods that concealed Armuchee Creek. They had just arrived when PP asked what the sound was she was hearing. Hugh shrugged it off to be an airplane but then recognized it as a Honda Rancher and they sprinted for the water. As they arrived at the southern edge Hugh observed Farmer John standing on the other side, hands on hips. He had a recommendation, find another place to play.

Hugh and PP explored the other size of Armuchee Creek and Hugh decided desperate measures were necessary, and although he felt his zen was strong, he called YTM. Just as she answered Purple Pill exclaimed they were on trail! Yippee!

They followed trail through the Burk Farm property until they reached the area in which Russell Airport is to be expanded and the County has drained the old reservoir within. It was tough going as the shiggy was thick and the hare? Well he forgot his TP so searching for flour marks in this shiggy was a sentence worse than hell. Up and back, back and forth the two intrepid hounds went. Blackberry thicket be damned! Just a few yards from Jones Bend Road, Hugh decided making for a dirt road would be the best idea and he and Purple Pill were able to momentarily extricate themselves form the blood letting and bushwhacking. Eventually, they climbed to the top of the old levy and Hugh spied the prize in the distance - Armuchee Park.

Convinced this was to be the finish, they dove in headfirst, thrashing and beating down the most vile of bush bearing the sharpest of thorns. Jones Bend Road was now just feet way and Hugh could nearly touch the passing cars. But he was feeling defeated until he heard Purple Pill say, "Well if you can't do it get out of the way! I will smash that shit down!" This was all Hugh needed as he could not let chivalry die on this hot humid July day in Northwest Georgia. No self-respecting RA would allow for such an embarrassment. So forward he pressed finally to emerge at the end of the runway, bloody but not beaten. At his side the shredded yet delighted Purple Pill.

As they made their way toward Armuchee Park, Hugh spied what could only be the remnants of a chad bag and its remaining contents strewn about the road. On flour! Then, the phone rang. It was Shitigation, "Are you guys ok? I have been in for a while. Clearly you guys went the wrong way." Clearly, sir, you were not among those intrepid enough to give their all for the hares and their trail. Hash smarter, not harder they say. I say I could do that from my couch man!

Finally Hugh and PP were at the creek and on-in. The hares had even dragged the coolers and bags to the river's edge.

Circle was short. Everyone was blessed with a down-down of some sort. Hugh and Shitigation both for using tech on trail as Shitigation explained he simply made for Dalton Road once Farmer John confronted him. The hares for not bringing TP and PP was, of course, FBI (or in this case OBI). We enjoyed a few cold ones and a quick swim before departing for a tick check and poison ivy wash.

Thanks, hares, for taking the time to lay a trail for just the three of us. We had fun. If it had not been for Farmer John, it would have been epic and we just might have found the beer check....and that new Beer-Munity Belt!