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Hash Trash

Denver Highest Hash Trash - 20 June 2004

As Short Dick @ Law, Rin Tin Tits, and Little Head bounced up the extremely rough road to the parking area, we came upon a lone hound walking up the road. Honeysuckle Divine had abandoned his car rather than try to pass some approximately automobile-sized potholes. He was too quick for us to run him down, so we picked him up and carried him the last mile and a half to the parking area.
Six hounds (Honeysuckle Divine, Little Head, Rin Tin Tits, Short Dick @ Law, Sloppy Droppings, Ultra Wimp) and a hare (Big Bird) gathered in the parking lot and took off for the summit at about 3:15. About 40 minutes and three lifetimes later (okay, fat boy, 1.5 miles and 900 vertical feet), we regrouped to decide what the verdict of the weather would be.
There were some threatening clouds popping over the mountain top, but they kept clearing off in short order. However, while we were waiting, a climber coming down from the summit said that he had seen lightning over the Seven- Mile Range so we decided not to even try for the summit.
Honeysuckle, the only one of us without much experience in Colorado's mountains, didn't understand our concern. So we explained with lots of scary stories about storms -- electrical and otherwise -- at high altitudes. When later the weather did indeed decide to roll in (then out, then back in) on the summit, we informed Honeysuckle repeatedly (all afternoon long) that "We saved yer life, man!"
Before we actually started trail, we also learned that Sloppy Droppings had just learned what a "fluffer" is. Given her interest, it's clear she's considering this as a positive career move. Surprisingly, Big Bird didn't know what a fluffer does, so we made her tell him. (They both drank for it later.)
We also learned to our shock, amazement, and delight that Short Dick's sausage is quite solid, six inches around, just about a foot long, and quite tasty. Big Bird nibbled the tip, but we all tasted it, even Short Dick himself. There was some talk about renaming him "Sucks His Own" though I daresay there must be better options. After we finished, it was -- unsurprisingly -- quite a bit smaller.
Once that was done, Big Bird went out and laid a trail back down to the parking lot. The Flatlanders would have loved this trail: *all* downhill. There were a couple of more or less flat places, but the rest of it was downhill. Quite impressive.
On trail, we discovered that UltraWimp's dog is going to be a real asset on trail. Sydney can sniff out trail. Not sure whether she was following Big Bird's rank odor or if she was actually smelling out the flour, but she didn't make a wrong turn all the way down. Time to name her?
After a lengthy Circle (considering there were only seven people there), we adjourned to Kermit's for chili, more beer, and delighting and confusing the usual biker-types there with exploding condoms, discussions of fluffers, and accusing the man at the bar of having a "NICE ASS". The sign on the wall said that LowLife had been there recently. Didn't somebody get a picture of that? Post it!
Disrespectfully submitted,
Shut Yer Manhole

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's Sunday as I, Honeysuckle Divine, write this. Up at 6AM, I'm hung over, and I can't sleep. I consider, were these smart Hashers (oxymoron) or just wimpy wankers last night? "Saved my life" shit! All I know is I have got to get a fourteener under my belt, maybe two! With that thought I take matters in hand....... No, no, just kidding. I don't mean a Roman Polanski or Michael J. thing..... I need a Colorado fourteener! So I hop back in the BMW with its scrapped bottom and drive all the way back to peaks. OW! OW! OW! The rocks seams to hurt my body as much as my car as I drive up that badly eroded road to Gray's and Torrey's Peaks. The wheel rocks violently in my hands as I strategize how to conquer the next 10 feet of travel. The Pines on either side are lush green, but I had no time to admire them, even at .05 MPH. The road takes all my concentration. Scccrrraaaape Ahh hell, I need new mufflers anyway. Again I give up, park, and hitchhike the last miles to the trail head. It is a glorious day in spite of aftereffects of the previous evening. I run up the first two miles and power hike from there to Torreys. The snow belt crossing was truly scary. One slip and I'd be a statistic. I won't try to detail the agony and the ecstasy of the summit other than to say both were extreme. I had planned to do both peaks but rain clouds were coming in and I start to grasp the danger. I ran down the entire way to my car. Four hours and I am a hurtin Hasher. As I drive down the minefield my Gatorade bottle implodes with a bang! I relate it to how all the organs in my body feel. But all in all it was a great day. And I hate to admit it but it would have been stupid to make for the Summit. We live to hash another day.
See you at Red Dress, and thanks for saving my life.
Honeysuckle Divine

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