Tuesday 22 June 2010

Triple Crown (3)

On to the final stage of the Triple Crown, and an early start on the second Sunday in order to get up to Póvoa do Lanhoso to begin from Pretty Vacant and Big Stick's great work-in-progress/house. By the time everyone, including Horny's carload, had arrived we were around an hour late, but, well, it was a beautiful day so who cared?

From the start, a checkpoint outside the gates, we spread out and managed to lose Inaction Man immediately; probably his military prowess enabled him to slink away like a panther on the prowl, but whatever it was, Big Stick missed him as he led the assembled throng off in the opposite direction. Down the road we headed, wary of the impending ups and downs, rightly as it turned out as the next move was up, through a field, then down a road, then up another, then down again. And so it continued.

Through wooded paths and fields we moved, at a decent pace. At one point I found myself treacherously tipped over by a mound of earth, for which I was inevitably punished later. The heat began to rise as our sweat began to pour, so it was a relief after another steep climb to find a pit stop with beer, water and white port with tonic, not to mention a fine view of the area. Hard Drive's sorry attempt to look helpful for the video camera involved trotting alongside Big Stick and the cool box waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the handle but he fooled no-one.

The biggest talking point came later, towards the end, when Big Stick decided to short-cut, pragmatically acknowledging that trying to get Snorter to stick to the route at that stage would be a fruitless effort, and taking two-thirds of the hash with him. This left a group of about eight of us - the real men and women, the true hashers, this noble band of ... sorry, I came over all Henry the Fifth for a moment - well it left us to find our own way back, which we did, eventually, and by the correct route I'll have you know. Rather indignantly, but with an air of, shall I say, indomitable superiority, we reached the quinta to find the evil hare and his henchmen sunning themselves with beers in hand.

Down-downs were duly completed, with Guiseppe named Castrato and Irena Flashdancer. The bash was a cracking barbecue punctuated by the unusual feature of sessions of granite-shifting. It was a late arrival back in Porto, but a great way to finish the Triple Crown. Well done everyone on another big turn-out, and especially to those who made all three.

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