Harrier Magazine May 2013

Lady In Red Loss of a legend

Vol. 12 No. 5

May 2013

Editor’s Notes:

(Formerly Asia-Pacific Harrier)

www.harriermagazine.com Editor/Publisher Jim Edens publisher@harriermagazine.com Administration Lisa Sukita customerservice@harriermagazine.com Design / Layout / Digital Edition / Website Jimmy Wilkins jwilkins@harriermagazine.com America Correspondent Sean Gilmour seanspg@gmail.com

CONTENTS

Europe Correspondent Julie Burgess jaburgess@planet.nl India Correspondent Bina S. Africa Correspondent Eric McGaw Contributors Editorial / Photos / Graphics Joseph Beam, Kurt Bodmer, Julie Burgess, Dietmar Brand, Mike Cooper, KC Marshment, Jim Edens, Sean Gilmour, Stu Lloyd John Mellon, Barry Rasberry Bina S., Randall Salisbury, Ian Slater, Lisa Sukita, Jimmy Wilkins Paul Woodford **If we forgot anyone, please tell us.

Contributors Welcome!

We welcome anything related to hashing. * All submissions are subject to the editor’s axe or scissors.

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed in this publication do not necessarily reflect those of the magazine, its advertisers, publisher or contributors.

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The Hash world lost its brightest star with the passing of Donna Rhinehart, known around the world as The Lady in Red. Her inspirational story is told by a friend who knew her well.

The Beatles sang of a summer cottage on the Isle of Wight in their Sgt. Pepper song When I’m 64. The local Hash House Harriers have been running strong there since 1983.

Join us for a colorful visit to incredible India.

Love it or hate it, once you’ve experienced India you’ll never be the same.

Beehive Babes in Trouble makes its digital debut in the May 2013 edition of Harrier Magazine. And Colonel Ken spins more expat misadventures from his Hardship Posting series.

Over 50 great HHH and running events are hyperlinked for your pleasure.

The Harrier Magazine Team looks forward to seeing you on trail again soon.

Happy hashing.

Jim Edens Editor-in-Chief & Founder Harrier Magazine - Fun on the run since 2002 International Edition with readers in 120 countries www.HarrierMagazine.com

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On The Cover: Lady In Red Photo By Joseph Beam

Features 8 Loss of a Legend 28 Isle of Wight 42 India: Love It or Hate It

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Events Las Vegas RDR 2013 Freezing in Frogland Pan Indo 2013 Chennai H3 13th Anny Pan Africa 2013 Pattaya Jungle 10th Anny Wild Wolf BD Bash 2013 China Nash Hash 2013 Indochina Mekong 2013 Brussels Beer Odyssey Fiji Interhash 2016 Bid Hainan Interhash 2014 Vietnam Bike Tour 2013 Amari Watergate Midnight Run

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Editor’s Welcome Bee Hive Babes Hardship Postings Hash Boy Hash Calendar Running Calendar On the Ice Back Issues

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Loss of a Legend

by Joseph Beam

O

n the Saturday before her 57th birthday, Donna Rhinehart (Lady In Red) passed away in Phoenix. Everyone who knew her loved her.

She was a kind, generous friend to every hasher she met, including me. She made a huge impact on hashing through her campaign to make red dress runs the signature event of the Hash House Harriers, and to convince kennels to contribute money raised from red dress runs to charities in our communities. I don’t think she’ll ever be forgotten. She’ll certainly be missed.

There is no higher calling than to make a positive impact on society with the time we are allotted in this world. In other words, is the world a better place because you were here? I believe that all the people that knew Donna would be in resounding agreement YES! We are blessed and the world is a better place for her having graced us with her presence during the short time she was here.

Most will look at her participation as the motivation for a run that nearly all Hash kennels in the world do (Red Dress Run). Those of us that had the privilege of knowing her personally would consider being the motivation for, and a founder of, the Red Dress run one of her lesser achievements, although it will be what she is most remembered for.

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I will spend a lot of time talking about the Red Dress Run with a personal explanation of when, what, where, and how, and use a blog Donna wrote to set the facts straight and educate novices on why there is a Red Dress Run. We will touch on the marvelous contributions to charities, better understanding between people, and one hell of a good time the Red Dress Run has come to represent, but first I want to speak of the woman.

The essence of the real person is not what is done in the limelight but what is done when no one is looking. I will start here.

Let’s begin with something Donna was proud of but which would not necessarily be accepted in polite company. She was a Playboy Bunny with access to the Playboy Mansion.

Remember that this was in the early 1970s when she made her appearance in photo and print. I can see less tolerant and even judgmental people taking this personally enough that it could close doors and damage her reputation. She was also a model and the money was a good source of income.

She regaled my oldest son (Dudmuffin) with stories of what it was like and she even gave him a pair of bunny ears, a pair of gloves, and a fluffy bunny tail. As a young adult the advice she gave him about what women want was priceless and he still practices her directions even today. I think most

would admit that he has had more than his share of luck with the fairer sex. He is now married with two beautiful boys.

Donna married Richard and had three children of her own. After her divorce she supported herself and children in various ways as a writer of mystery novels, illustrator and caterer. She was also a Boy Scout leader, PTA mom, and involved in the Scottsdale School District’s Master Art Program. Her three children grew up to be good citizens, contributing in their chosen endeavors. Donna then adopted four children that needed the love and guidance that only she could provide. Being a foster parent is a selfless act in itself, but Donna actually adopted these four children.

The Hash House Harriers qualify as the world’s largest running club. Despite their size and having been founded in 1938, their Red Dress Run may be the only completely original idea they have ever had.

And it happened nearly by accident.

The tradition of the Hash House Harriers Red Dress Run quickly spread to every corner of the globe, including Beijing, Montreal, Ho Chi Minh City, Helsinki, Moscow, Tokyo, Washington DC, Hobart (Australia) and countless other locations. Over the years, the Red Dress Run has been very successful in raising millions of dollars for a wide variety of local charities. The New Orleans Hash House Harriers attracted 7,000 participants to their Red Dress Run in 2010, raising more than $200,000 for 50 local charities.

Today the Red Dress Run is an integral part of the Hash House Harriers’ heritage and is as iconic as the Royal Selangor Club where the Hash House Harriers was born, and as sacred to them as founder A.S. Gispert’s (man credited with founding the Hash House Harriers in 1938) drinking vessel. It’s a tradition born before few organizations turned to running events as a way to raise money and long before anyone ran in a dress of any color.

The title was threatened by the American Heart Association’s claim to the name “Red Dress Run” for one of its fundraising events. Sadly this was proposed by a former hasher. If the AHA is allowed to own the name, then every kennel that uses the term Red Dress Run will owe the American Heart Association for the use of the name. Lady In Red fought to retain the name claiming that

Most hashers know that the San Diego HHH started the annual Red Dress Run tradition.

The Lady in Red, Flying Booger Tucson, Arizona, June 2004

legally the Hash House Harriers enjoy common law protection of the phrase “Red Dress Run”.

Additional protections are in place and still more legal protections are pending. Paying the AHA for the use of the name could add considerable expense to every run with less going to the chosen charities.

As mentioned above, many kennels are making a difference in their communities. Lady in Red’s campaign took her to as many kennels as she could visit across the United States, to prove that the term “Red Dress Run” preexisted in places the American Heart Association could not possibly have known about. She was truly a national figure, if not global. All this helps to substantiate the Hash House Harriers’ claim to protections from preexistence on a worldwide scale for common-law protection of the phrase “Red Dress Run”.

I have participated in over 200 Red Dress Runs all over the world and some of the stories associated with the Lady In Red are reprehensible. Being Hashers we immediately go to the gutter when we try to explain things we really don’t know anything about. Lady

in Red explained the events of the creation of the first Red Dress Run on her web page and I feel it worthy of setting the record straight using her own words: Red Dress Real HHHistory: The Lady in Red Speaks: How It All Started Ah, where to begin the tale of the legend of The Lady in Red and the original run? Well, way back in 1987, a friend that I had known since high school days convinced me to come to Long Beach, California for a “visit, some beers, and to meet a few friends.” I needed a break and it sounded relaxing, so I packed a toothbrush and not much more as I grabbed a flight to the Coast for the visit.

I arrived early in the afternoon. After we left the airport, we stopped for cold beers and to catch up a bit on personal events in our lives. As we were finishing the last of our beers, J. moved on to something that I could tell he was anxious to talk about. Explaining, J. said that he was leading a double life of sorts, one as an upstanding business individual named “J. T.” and the other “hashing” as “3M.” “Drugs?” I asked in surprise.

He glanced around and lowered his voice to explain that it had begun quite innocently when he had first moved to California and had not made many friends yet. A guy from work invited him to go for a run and a few beers after with some friends. J. said that he went and found a great group of guys to hang with. At first it was just once every couple of weeks, then once a week, plus special runs and road trips up and down the Coast until he was a full fledged hasher, hare, and eventually brewmeister!

I didn’t know what to say. I was stunned. J. was my best friend. He was like my brother! He looked into my eyes and said, “Please come with me on a run tonight. You’ll see and understand. Oh, and there will be lots of beer.”

I know that even though I hadn’t run since high school when I had to outrun a group of faculty after a practical joke.

We left the pub and headed for the hashers’ meeting point.

As I got out of his truck, I looked around. Little groups of two and three people were all smiling and talking with each other. They looked like a mismatched group out for a field trip to the zoo. J. yelled out to the group, “Listen up everyone! I’ve got a virgin here that we need to make into a new recruit, so make her feel the Hash welcome!”

I’m outgoing and trusted J. fully, but this I didn’t know about. I was far from home with no ID or means to leave but by J. and now this motley crew was descending upon me! Here I stood in nothing but a red summer dress with buttons all the way down the front, nylon stockings, red spike heels, and a red ribbon tying back my blonde curls.

I felt, to say the least, like a lamb before Easter!

I was dragged over to a semi-official-looking person with a clipboard, who handed me a stapled pile of papers that he quickly flipped through and told me it didn’t matter. He told me to just fill out the parts about my “mortal name” and next of kin information. My hands began to sweat, my heart pounded, and my mouth became dry. What was I getting myself into? I wondered: was this some kind of strange cult; was I to become a human sacrifice; could I

still trust J.; had this group warped his mind? As I pondered the papers and the scene before me a guy with horns on his head and a bugle strung around his neck asked me if I had talked to the “hares” yet (talking rabbits?), and wanted to know what kind of beer I liked. Beer? Yes, J. had told me that there would be beer! The other guy reappeared, took my scribbled “release from harm” forms, gave me a whistle (“Here, you’ll need this when you get lost”) and a huge chunk of chalk that looked like it had been a part of someone’s wall shortly before this.

As I stood there dazed and confused, J. slipped back beside me and, smiling, told me that I was going to love this. He explained about the talking rabbits, horns, terms, “rules,” and odd hieroglyphic signs drawn on the ground with chalk and flour. He gave me a drink of water, patted my shoulder and trotted off to what he called “the pack” to talk to a bunch of guys with really strange names. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I always believed that life was meant to be an adventure; that I would try anything once (twice if it didn’t kill me the first time). Smiling, I joined a group stretching to warm up and pretended that I knew what I was doing. I had no clue!

The “G.M.” appeared, and speaking only to 3M as if I wasn’t there, emphatically told him that women just didn’t do such a thing (hash!). I spoke up and asked, “Why? Is there a rule against it? Will a giant bolt of lightning strike us all dead? Will the Earth cease to exist?” I told him that if he had no proof that any of this was true and if there was beer, then I was running. The G.M. spoke slowly as if to a child as he explained that I was not dressed properly

for the run and that I should “just wait in the truck until 3M returned.”

Several hashers volunteered to lend this damsel proper attire, but their attempts were quickly rebuffed by the G.M. and other hashers. 3M looked at me and smiled. He knew that I didn’t like to be spoken to in a condescending manner and didn’t take “no” for an answer.

I watched the start of the run from the edge of the group.

There was horn blowing, yelling, whistles blowing, and in an instant they were all gone, leaving me to watch the cloud of dust settle. I stood there looking at the chalk still in my hand. I had signed the forms, had been promised beer, and I was going to run. So, in a red dress and heels, I did just that. .I won’t bore you with all the details of the run, but it was supposed to be an easy three miles and on flat ground.

It ended up with a lot of people calling “hash shit.” It was a trail of six miles over brush covered steep hills, barrio areas, and the last mile was on sandy beach!

At one point I began to wish that I’d thought this through a bit more! I did get a bit lost, but a large woman with curlers in her hair, hanging out of a second story tenement building, pointed out that my “lily white ass looked like it don’t belong around here” and that I should catch up to “those crazy other folk running four blocks down.” I would have thanked her, but my dry tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I was busy trying to keep my liver from moving further up into my chest where my heart was

This is the only picture of Stray Dog, 2X4 and Flying Booger in existence

threatening to explode. I ran past a taco stand where I stole a cup of Coke off a guy’s tray as I took a short cut through the fast food parking lot. As I did this I thought, “Great, now this group has turned me into a thief! What’s next?”

I also, while on the same, very bad, side of town, upon hearing a bugle blowing and thinking that the group must be inside, burst through the door of a stranger’s house and yelled “Where the hell’s the beer?” A huge black man who seemed to fill all of the living room answered my question. He was standing next to his small son, who’d been practicing on his horn. The man told me that he didn’t allow beer, foul language, or seductively dressed women into his house. As I backed out of the door, I apologized profusely and ran out quickly, renewed by fear.

I finally crawled my way down the beach to join the entire group, which had arrived well before me (the pack included a five-year-old boy and a senior citizen recovering from triple-bypass surgery). I had hoped to make a graceful entrance but now all I could think of was that I survived and I wanted beer! I drank my first down-down in record setting speed and demanded a refill that went down just as fast! As I started my third tankard, I debated whether to hit or hug 3M. We eventually moved the on-on-on to a bar where we were thrown out before I got the food I’d ordered. This pattern continued through three bars where I continued to drink, learn limericks and pub songs . . . and teach a few too!

As for the story about the hot tub and me, I didn’t know that it too became a part of history until one of my sons

came home from a bar and told me a limerick about a lady in red in a hot tub! I smiled and told him that I knew her well!

From the last bar we moved to someone’s apartment where we spent the night hot tubbing. Everyone in the know had brought a bathing suit or at least had underwear. I was not prepared. Not one of the guys offered anything for me to use. I suspected that they wanted to test how interesting things could get since there was only one female besides myself there at the time (other females did show up soon after when word got out that there was a blonde in the hot tub with all the guys). Everyone watched how I would handle having nothing to change into for the hot tub: http://www.huachucah3.iwarp.com/howler.jpg after I was given the invitation. I looked over at 3M, who smiled back knowing that I would somehow end up putting the hashers on the spot. I told them it was not a problem, slipped off my heels, unfastened my stockings, took them off, and jumped into the hot tub wearing only the famous red dress and a smile.

I hadn’t eaten all day, since we were thrown out of all the bars before my orders arrived. During the evening, I explained that hops in beer was not food and that I was still hungry. The hashers obliged by turning a garbage can lid into a serving plate full of chips and floating it my way in the hot tub. Zulu Boy realized that I needed more than that and was kind enough to pick me up out of the hot tub, dripping wet, and take me inside to find something for me.

The rest of the details of the evening are shared by those who were there, told in limerick and song, and if we meet and you buy me a beer, perhaps I’ll tell you. Zulu Boy did

say of the event, in Sports Illustrated Magazine, that he “was still in awe,” and “would never forget The Lady in Red.” That weekend, I begged 3M to find more hash runs. I went on three more. The last on-on-on he had to drag me from under protest in order to get me to the airport on time. During that weekend, three combined hash groups deemed me “The Lady in Red.” The following year I had moved to Houston, Texas, where the San Diego Hash House Harriers tracked me down, sent me plane tickets, and demanded that I attend the first annual Red Dress Run being held in my honor!

Word had spread up and down the Coast and hashers from all over California attended. Men and women alike were required to wear red dresses. I was later told that hundreds attended. California newspapers and TV news serviced covered the event.

I was and still am overwhelmed at the notoriety and response! At the crowning ceremony for me at that very first Red Dress Run, I, in my acceptance speech, suggested the one thing that would make me most pleased for the annual event: I suggested that a portion of the proceeds go to worthwhile charities to benefit others and to help build a bit of a positive image for hashers . . . if that were ever possible! Now, every time I see a Red Dress Run on a calendar and read of the charity it is for, I can’t help but smile and wonder what fun I’ll have in the same red dress and heels when I attend!

On-On! The Lady in Red The Lady in Red Speaks ©2005 by The Lady in Red for the Half-Mind Catalog

Information about Red Dress Runs around the world:

http://www.reddressruns.org/

August 17, 2013: Bisbee Red Red Dress Run (jointly hosted by the Howlin’ Hash House Harriers and the Huachuca Hash House Harriers). Bisbee, Arizona (USA)

This not-to-be-missed event starts with a Friday night lingerie themed pub crawl through the bars and pubs of Old Bisbee. Saturday morning - those brave enough - can enjoy a hash with the Huachuca H3 the historic Warren section of Bisbee. The hash will be followed by a beer mile sponsored by the Goat Cheez H3. The main event, the Bisbee Red Dress, will allow you to savor the unique charm of Old Bisbee as you run thru the charmingly restored neighborhoods of Victorian and European style homes perched miraculously on the hillsides. The hash is followed by a catered dinner.

One year we even had performed by the one and only Brent Burns. (The Gulf Coast Entertainer of the Year.)

Bisbee Red Dress

I ran the Bisbee Red Dress for 17 years and it became the premier Hash event in Arizona. For six years in a row Lady in Red catered it. Because of the venue she used to tell me it was her favorite Red Dress Run. (Bet she said that at all the runs.) Join us in the historic mining town of Bisbee, Arizona for the Anal Bisbee Red Dress.

Joseph Beam

About Me: I began hashing in Seoul while in the military and from there I hashed around the world literally. My passions are skinny dipping, motorcycles, classic Volkswagons, sailing, water sports, scuba diving, bicycling, karaoke, playing my guitar, beer and fine wines. After retiring from civil service in 2005, I started writing military fiction novels and attending as many sporting events as possible. I am a huge fan of Jimmy Buffett and Toby Keith. I am a “Cultural Infidel” but you know “Who’s Your Daddy” even though “I Shoulda Been a Cowboy”, so “why don’t we get drunk and screw”. I cofounded and hared the first Howlin’ H3 and Jhavelina H3 runs. ON ON

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isle of Wight

by Mike Cooper

T

he Isle of Wight H3, will be celebrating their 30th Anniversary on the weekend of 26-28 July, 2013 at East Dene Centre, Bonchurch. Hashers will stay in a beautiful haunted Victorian mansion with sweeping lawns down to the sea, where the decadent poet Charles Swinburne spent his youth. He is buried nearby in an atheist’s grave. Steeped in history, ancient Bonchurch is one of the oldest settlements on the lovely island where many other Victorian poets and writers stayed, including Charles Dickens. He wrote ‘David Copperfield’ in Bonchurch.

The Isle of Wight consists of 130,000 people clinging to a 22 by 19 mile rock off the south coast of England.

Take away the large numbers of retired gardeners, kids, people who watch sky, people who don’t go out, people who don’t have any attitude - and you’ve got the Hash House Harriers.

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Prelude to another beach party�

Run 10 of occasional child “The Nauti Hash

The inaugural run of the Isle of Wight was on 31 July 1983.

Potential hashers were lured on Sunday morning by Founder, Richard Freeston, promising “Just a few people getting together to run and have a drink at the pub”. The Wessex H3 joined in from the Mainland ready to assist in the new venture. The White Lion Pub in Niton was the venue. Just Helen arrived early with her campervan all set-up for action, Shandy Bucket at the ready. Although only 200 yards from home, she was prepared with a First Aid kit, a change of clothes and even a pushchair for her youngest. Children, babies and toddlers with grandparents, dogs, and a few tens of runners with new and old trainers were all in evidence. What a ‘nice’ way to spend a Sunday morning, all said! Two trails were laid; a main trail for the fit and hearty and a mini-trail for the lessenthusiastic, young and old alike.

The pack of 60 set-off along Blackgang Road with horns blowing. One pondered the thought of the quiet folk of Niton rushing to their windows and doors, telephones in hand, ready to dial 999 because of The Disturbances.

Helen thought; “How would I face the Village Shop in the morning?” The Trail continued on the cliff path and Boxers Lane, where there were horses grazing in the fields. Grandma (the dog) didn’t like horses and decided to see what this running was like for real by legging it to the fence where she did a very plausible ‘fozbury flop’ into the safety of the next field.

The Landlord of the White Lion welcomed the hashers, yet most of the Après has been lost in time. Young Charlie, then 4 years old, already had a taste for Shandy and Ale.

The Chine Stream at Shanklin just before the Biennial General Meeting�

He helped the more feeble (or was it the more gullible?) to Burts Ale and the Shandy Bucket and filled their cup, which was only part full by the by time he reached them.

Sally and Debs, 2 years or so old (and still occasional Hashers), looked on their brother with disapproval, as they have continued to do for the next 17 years!

The ‘Grand Dame’ of the Isle of Wight Hash, and longestserving Grand Mattress, Tanglefoot, recalls her hashing experiences on the Isle. (Most of the remainder of the article is paraphrased from her letters.) “Twenty years and a thousand runs on from the soggy Sunday morning that I arrived at my First Ever Hash (Run 33), suitably clad (as I thought) in plastic mac, wellies and woolly hat. I still recall the utter disbelief at the sight of the motley crew, stripped to the buff (almost), who warmly welcomed me with the advice that all I needed to enjoy the Delights of Hashing were a pair of lungs in reasonable condition, ditto on running shoes and a capacity to absorb large quantities of alcohol at speed. The ensuing mayhem, accompanied

1983: Run 0001: Check 0001 - all is explained”

There are more hills - but we call them downs

2012: St George’s Day: St George’s Church”

with strange cries and runic signs through mud, bog and plough, left me and my dog unrecognisable and in a state of collapse only assuaged by a dip into a murky-looking bucket of foaming liquid which, I was assured, was shandy. All this for a mere 50p! I’ve been coming back for more ever since.”

Over the years, certain events, both highs and lows, stand out in memory, runs weird and wonderful. The longest was a thirteen miler, which left the pack lying in the streets, and the shortest was two blobs of flour from car park to pub entrance, specifically for the overhung. There have been runs celebrating solstices, eclipses, comets, full moons, saints and a Millennium, exploring every niche of their Island, in spite of irate farmers, obstructing landowners and scandalized locals, being banned from some pubs, yet welcomed with open arms by some excellent landlords and all in a great spirit of camaraderie. The Isle of Wight Hash is about people, that great mix of age, gender and occupation – plus their kids. Kids in push-chairs, backpacks, on foot, the whingers, the wallowers, mud-slingers and the little sods who can out-run us all.

Visitors have been welcomed from the mainland, Europe, Middle and Far East, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and the USA. The Isle of Wight Hashers have Nashed, Eurohashed, Interhashed, awaydayed, weekended, toured and boated - home and abroad in conditions ranging from the sublime to the cor blimey in lumpy fields, leaky tents, overflowing loos, non-flowing showers and, providing the beer never ran out, all hugely enjoyable.

Southwest coast - more enthusiasm for the view!�

Loping over the East Wight footpaths�

Today, the Isle of Wight H3 is nearly up to 1500 Runs and 30 years. They meet Sundays at 11am, and the pack is usually about 30-40. On-On to the Isle of Wight 30th Anniversary – “all you need is a bunch of lunatics, a bag of flour and a thirst.”

The heritage for the Isle of Wight H3 is as follows: Kuala Lumpur H3, December 1938 > Singapore H3 - 19th February 1962 > Wessex H3, 7th January 1979 > Haunch of Venison H3, 29th February 1983. Children born to the Isle of Wight include Hursley H3 in 1983, Vectis Lunatics Full Moon H3 in 2003 and Birmingham in 2008’.

http://www.iwhhh.org.uk

This Article is based on contributions, much of which provided by Mike “Cooperman” Cooper, Scribe of the IW Hash for about the last thousand Runs. Why so long? Cos no-one else will do the bloody job! To relax, ‘Coops’ prefers walking or getting away to the more compact Hashes and, when not with the IWHHH will be off in some smaller part of the UK and, at the most, Europe (legs too long to fly any further!). Attitude is Everything and you find it in all sorts of outof-the-way places.

Quotable quote: “It’s not a Sport, it’s an Entertainment, Rodney!”

Musical Hash - Brass Section”

2012: The Real Olympics”

www.panindo2013.com/

India, Love it

by Rare Comer

W

hat’s to love about Hashing in India?

It’s India!

Like a million travelers say every day: India!

Man – you’ll love it or hate it.

Rampant cronyism; brainiac doctors; blatant sexism; respect for married women; the most hospitable of hosts vs. the class system; dire poverty, right next door to noveau rich lifestyles beyond imagination; fabulous hashing terrain, the most debilitating of climatic conditions: the world’s highest rainfall, tallest mountains, heat-wave summers, icy Leh/Ladakh winters…yep, we’ve got it all and then some in Incredible India.

An old joke, for those who haven’t heard it yet: God set about making the world, and gave each country a fair share of travails and trials: the U.S. –That Accent; the UK – their bloody teeth; Scandinavia – no sunlight; Australia – drop bears, many many venomous snakes, bush leaves that kill you, missionaries, poison spiders, killer wasps…

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t or Hate It

And then – God created India. She gave India the most incredibly breathtaking glaciers and snow-covered mountain ranges; vast deserts with colourful people and exquisite cuisine; great rivers, lakes, three oceans to the South; hill-stations, tiger-filled forest, perfect beaches; exquisite caves; mythical underground rivers; a Southern plateau with perfect weather; Maharajas and their consorts; gems and natural oil. You name, India has it.

God’s angel was puzzled. Why, she asked, why? You’ve created a country without a problem in the world – why would you be so unfair?

And God said: “Look who I gave them for neighbours” Jokes apart – it’s true. India really does offer the almost near-perfect combination of diverse Hashing terrain, great big cities to get the heck out of; quaint villages; delightful, laughing rural kids play next to sad, sad old farts who think Indian women going to pubs or “wearing sleeveless blouses is against Indian culture”, all are enraptured by weird people sweating it out in the mid-day sun in shorts, Hash (auto-rickshaw) horns and Hash shit.

After hashing in other countries, I realized hashing here is ... different.

In general: more family-friendly across all chapters; way less raunchiness; overly safe with respect to naughty hash hymnals and certainly male-dominated. Short, short circles, cliques; not enough fruit juice for the few kids who do attend, but definitely some fantastic hash runs.

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Our hymnals, slim as they are, are never shocking - I’ve seen many a scandalised face here over the second line to “Why are we waiting?” .

There are hashers who’ve been coming to the local hashes for years who were unaware that there even was a second line!

We’ve had the odd hasher quietly insisting they are named ‘Fake Organism’ when they were named ‘Fake Orgasm’ at the circle, yikes!

I have never seen a San Diego-style Red Dress-andnothing-else run on the streets. Of course I’d organize one, if I had the right inside connections. But poverty naked is rather different from Hash fun fun fun nudity, so I’d be very reluctant to go there.

The exception was the 2002 Goa Interhash – the organizing committee sprinkled enough magic (beer?!) on the system to ensure that exposed dangly bits and raucous lyrics didn’t get anyone arrested - as far as I’m aware. All for the good – I still have images of the Ozzie men in their spanking yellow dresses giving us the old razzle-danglydazzle on the Goa Interhash stage. Goooood fun.

While almost all Indian chapters are disgustingly kidfriendly, many runs in the cities in actuality turn out to be all-adult runs. School exams, vacations, coordinating varied family schedules et al play their part in this.

What one has to grasp that Indian society’s greatest strength – and perhaps the greatest dampener to naughty hash humour – is the Indian family unit. Indians move, socialize, eat and work in these strange, cohesive, cellular multi-person units known as The Great Indian Family.

Many a time I’ve found myself talking to one person, only to have a few dozen relatives speaking loudly for the one person I thought I was addressing – c’est la vie ici.

At the Hash this often translates to the Great Indian Couple. She hashes because he hashes, and her social status is tied directly to her man.

Tamil Nadu roadside

There is a higher percentage of regular older hashing couples, who are childless by choice, at the Bangalore Hash than one would find in the normal population.

Urban singletons are a growing, but minor, presence, and yet to be easily ‘accepted’ into mainstream society. Stop protesting this statement already, ye wankers – if you think being married off for the 500th time to the nearest highly ineligible, incoherently drooling and balding old wanker “But (s)he’s single, why don’t you two marry?” by the host of uber b.o.r.i.n.g. SmugMarrieds is fun – you ain’t lived the Single Life yet.

As a singleton, I’ve seen one too many fun, fabulous Singletons drop off quietly from various hash chapters here because it can get a tad too family / couple oriented at times. Which is a pity as there are no Singleton Hash chapters here (and no, you married bachelors, no-one is about to start one so you can come “pick up the girls”).

Since I’ve lived and hashed primarily in South India, I’ll stick with the hashing in these here parts. I’ll write about hashing in the North once the Delhi Hashers do something drastic to fully air-condition their hotter-than-a-tandooroven trails.

The big cities that run hashes in India are: Madras, now named Chennai (a huge metropolis), Bangalore, Bombay and Hyderabad. New Delhi is the nation’s capital but hey – they’re waaay up North, and it’s New Delhi.

The Kedar Range of the Greater Himalayas

(You read that in the same tone as “ … and it’s Washington, DC”. It’s just…different).

Each of these cities offers a completely different hashing experience w r t landscape, city personality and hashing population.

The Hash crowd does overlap a fair bit, with a set of regulars spotted at all out-station (i.e. out of city) runs.

The Nash Hashes each January sees Indians from all over, with a very small number of visiting foreign nationals, and of course the tiny volume of in-house ex-pats from each chapter.

Bangalore Bangalore is the home of garment manufacturing; we don’t see any of that crowd at the local Hashes.

The most noise is made about IT – the information technology sector – and the majority of Indian virgins tend to originate in bored Google searches while pretending to grow India’s economy by another 7% p a. We have a small crowd, just about 15 – 25 hashers on average for run-of-the-mill runs.

Madras/Chennai is a larger metropolis, with a far larger Hash population.

Since many international companies have a strong presence in Bangalore, there are a few passing visitors, and a tiny number of ex-pats.

Bangalore is brilliantly located – bang in the centre of a gently sloping plateau, with gentle flowing rivers that hashers on all sides of state borders never fight over – because hey, where there’s beer, who needs water.

Bangalore is equi-distant, almost, to Chennai and Mangalore. Mangalore on the west coast does not boast a Hash chapter yet. Land-locked Hyderabad to the north and three oceans meeting at land’s end at Kanya Kumari to the south are easily motorable.

Both Madras/Chennai and Bangalore are just a 3-8 drive away from superb out-station Hash locales:

roadside fruit vendor

• gorgeous hill stations, Udhagamandalam (Ooty), Kodaikanal, Munnar, Salem …those cool hilly summer retreats boasting lush tea plantations (instead of forest land, originally). Hash humour does not go down well with blushing, virginal honeymooning couples who frequent these hill-stations, who wouldn’t dream of mooning hashers – you hash lot need to head on over here and teach coy honeymooners what mooning’s really all about.

• Coorg’s genteel coffee plantations, and fun-loving Kodava community is located at a lesser altitude than the big hill-stations. Coorg truly has charm its own.

• the perfect quaint Indo-French township, Puducherry (or Pondicherry). Many of the Chennai and

Madras Hashes are held here, terribly civilized living; great shopping, good weather for a few weeks per annum and a unique atmosphere. Unbearably hot in the summer, get there in the Indian winter – at 28 C, it’s a right winter bargain • Tigers in them there hills: BB Hills, Bandipur, Madumalai…tigers share space with the Indian bison, peacocks, sambar deer and the odd idiot Hasher who ventures under elephants’ feet to get that beer-driven camera shot.

• Caves! It is a surprise to many that India offered spelunking as one of its sports activities. The Arakku Caves, in Andhra Pradesh (near the Hyderabad Hash) are a subterranean delight.

• Beaches! Did anyone say Goa Goa Goa? Rip tides, sharks, English lords on the run, hippies from yesteryear and hip young things from all over India congregate at India’s do-nothing-but-drink-beer-all-day hot spot. And it is a very hot spot – humid and sweaty for much of the year, charming and laid back all the time.

• Amazing temples – Hampi, Belur and Halebid ( overnighters from Bangalore); the temples of Tamil Nadu and their surrounding terrain, the cuisine of Chettinad near Madurai – if the Hashing didn’t get you, the sensory overload assuredly will.

But that’s not the only hashy beach: we have the crowded urban city beach – the Marina in Madras, the pebbly Puducherry beach, sandy and peaceful Gokarna and Karwar beaches south of Goa, Vishakapatnam’s twee “Gopalpur on Sea” on the east coast – hey, you want variety, you got it here.

catching the breeze on an Indian Railways train

Bombay/Mumbai Both Poona (or Pune, yes, we like multiple names in India) and Bombay offer rough and ready hilly Hash terrain within a few hours drive.

Bombay is Bombay – a crazy high-rise nightmare, excessively humid and even more so when the monsoons hit it head on every June-July-ish.

You just need to get the heck out of Mumbai regularly.

It’s New York style frantic energy city, and it can get too much very quickly. The spectacular surroundings of the Sahayadri Hills in Maharashtra State offer the perfect visual and hamstring stretching space to do that.

Hyderabad Oh Hyderabad! What can one say about this overheated, land-locked sweat-house? Home of India’s biggest corporate scams ( think Satyam Computers; the biggest ore-mining scam; any other multi-crore Rupee scam ),

home of the hottest chillies and the most unbearably hot cities…crazy Hyderabad hashers still set runs around their lake in 40 C heat.

A few long hours drive to Hyderabad’s East are their beaches – a few forests and caves with the ubiquitous temple or eight are Hyderabad’s offering a la Hash terrain.

Almost all city hash chapter(s) hold out-station runs or overnighters in the aforementioned locales at least once a year, with the Indian Nash Hashes usually held around January – near perfect Hash-terrain weather at that time.

We Indians love big 1950s words such as ‘aforementioned’ and ‘kindly do the needful’, and my favourite, ‘in your esteemed organisation’. Try not to worry about it.

Monsoon Hashes are great fun – don’t worry about the rain! It does not rain all day; the pattern of rain is usually this: heavy night rain followed by a lull in the morning, and then wham more heavy rain … this is on the West Coast, where the mighty Western Ghats (mountains) do their manly job of trapping the heavy monsoonal rainbearing clouds July-August.

You may not even require an umbrella; just pop into the nearest tea shop, wait out the rain with a beer or two and voila – Mother Nature will wash away all trail markings just before the next run.

a temple gopuram covered in coconut thatching for painting/renovation

We do try extra hard to make hashing funner in India. The rains bring out leeches, some snakes and a few frogs… when hashing in Panama is safe (I know this for sure), you hashers really need not fear the occasional Indian scorpion crawling into your beer-soaked shoe overnight here, now can you?

I’ll wrap up with a fun fact: the country nearest the southernmost tip of India is…Indonesia.

Indonesia?! What is Rare Comer on about now? Isn’t the Antarctic the nearest Southern continent, and Sri Lanka the nearest neighbour to the South … nope Well – the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, diving paradise and isolated tribes, belong to India. Indonesia is a short swim away.

Hashers have made their wanky mark there, of course.

You fly to Port Blair, the State Capital, from Madras/ Chennai or Kolkatta, and then vamoose from Port Blair a.s.a.p. to Havelock, Ross, Neil and other islands on the chain.

The Andamans are a geographical dream, think Thailand but more primitive. The inter-island ferries are hot, stuffy affairs – if possible try to get yourself the private ferry that runs a few times a year. Private inter-island helicopters seem the obvious solution here but the companies providing this service have never proved sustainable.

Get the private ferry! You’ll thank me when you do, trust me on this one.

For the wankers who noticed that I haven’t written about Hashing in Kolkatta. Have you ever been to Kolkatta?

You’ll need twenty trade-union forms, three student-body signatures and a maniacal brain to even think about organizing a Hash there.

I have heard the odd rumour that Kolkotta has a running Hash, but we Southerners never seem to see any of them at our runs. So I’ll have to assume Kolkatta Hash is a figment of Rail Jerker’s imagination for the time being.

As if all this wasn’t tempting you enough to hash in India – think of Our Neighbours!

Yes, Sri Lanka (super trails), Nepal - the Himalayan Hash is active and way cool, Bangaldesh – crazy country but sure, they Hash there. Bhutan rightly has many travel restrictions, but is a spectacular country, Gross National Happines Index and all.

(Did you say we have another neighbour? Pak… something?? Hmmm – I’m not going there).

the 500 year old Mysore Palace

Colonel Ken’s

HARDSHIP POSTING sia

y Mala

Driven to drink A friend of mine in Kuala Lumpur had what must have been the only chauffer-driven Mini Minor in the whole of Malaysia. Regularly on a Saturday night (or actually any night of the week for that matter) he’d go out on the town and get completely plastered. At the end of the night, you’d see some of the club’s Malay staff pouring this guy into the back seat of the Mini, whereupon one of the staff – complete with crisp starched white uniform – would drive him home and make sure he got inside and safely out of harm’s way.

Getting the clap In the 50s the Selangor Club Chambers, which used to house itinerant officers and bachelors in the Malayan colonial service, used to have thin wooden partition walls that didn’t go all the way up to the ceiling. Officers would sometimes be lucky enough to have their wife with them or a temporary consort.

Naturally the noises of pleasure and pain they made reverberated through the building for all to hear.

In the morning as we sat at breakfast, we’d give a huge round of applause as the ‘offending’ couple tried to make their way discreetly down to breakfast.

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Sleeping duty As a young merchant navy officer on 28,000 tons of ocean-going luxury in the late 1960s, I was the duty-assistant purser for an overnight stop in Singapore. This meant I had to stay on board and deal with any passenger problems or ship’s business.

The junior duty-navigating officer and I decided that we would make his cabin our ‘command post’ and the switchboard and gangway were duly informed.

The evening wore on and was fairly quiet except for visiting off-duty officers looking in to say hello and, of course, the odd G&T. Towards midnight, copious amounts of spirit had been consumed and I realised that X was now curled up on his bunk cuddling his pillow. Time to leave and find my own bunk. I rose from his day-bed to find I had no legs, and crashed to the floor in a mess of flying glass and bottles, at which point I passed out.

My next recollection was a sharp crack on the head as his Goan cabin steward opened the door in the morning, tea tray in hand. Totally unperturbed by the devastation, he calmly stepped over me and asked: “Tea, sahib?”

I am not sure to his day if the headache was the gin or the door!

Watered down charges In Singapore in the mid-60s a group of us were driving home one night, absolutely plastered.

The driver was perhaps in the worst state. Along

River Valley Road we were pulled over at a police roadblock. The driver is now hiccuping so often and so loudly it’s almost reverberating off the nearby buildings. Shit, we’re done for. Not a bit of it – the policeman takes pity on this poor soul.

“Lucky, we have some water in the car,” says the officer, and trots off to fetch it. Our driver takes a few swigs, assures the officer he’s now much better thank you. The police then held up the traffic on the road and waved us on to ensure we got away without further hitch.

Moooving right along It was Singapore in early 60s: DS had been to a fancy dress party, had quite a few drinks, then driven home in his little mini. He came roaring down Bukit Timah Road, didn’t see this cow, and went straight under it … the cow straddled in ungainly fashion with two front legs on one side of the car, and two back legs on the other side.

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Half-Min

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Apr 26-May 7 2013: Aussie Nash Hash pre- & post-lubes. Click here for more information, look under “Hash Events.” Various locations, Australia.

May 2-5 2013: Pattaya Jungle H3 10th Anniversary. Pattaya, Thailand.

May 3-5 2013: Aussie Nash Hash 2013. Brisbane QLD, Australia.

May 3-5 2013: InterScandi 2013. Bornholm, Denmark.

May 3-5 2013: Texas Interhash 2013. Kerrville TX, USA. May 17-19 2013: Jolly Roger H3 Pirate Invasion Weekend.

High Springs FL, USA. May 23-24 2013: Kuching H3 50th Anniversary. Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysia.

68 HARRIER

May 24-25 2013: Holyland H3 999th-1000th Weekend. Tel Aviv, Israel.

May 24-27 2013: Kimchi Interhash. Colorado Springs CO, USA. May 31-Jun 2 2013: Borneo Nash Hash 2013. Bintulu, Sarawak, Malaysia.

May 31-Jun 2 2013: Glasgow H3 1500th. Largs, Scotland, UK. Jun 7-9 2013: Pan-Africa Hash 2013. Cape Coast, Ghana.

Jun 7-9 2013: Dutch Nash Hash 2013. Gelderland, Netherlands.

Jun 7-9 2013: NC/SC Interhash. Batesburg SC, USA. Jun 8-9 2013: Batang Nash Hash. Pahang, Malaysia.

Jun 14-23 2013: Tour duh Hash. VA/MD/DC, USA. Jun 15-Jul 2 2013: Vodka Train 2013. Commercial event. Moscow to Beijing.

Jun 21-23 2013: Aberdeen H3 Shetland Weekend. Lerwick, Shetland, UK. Jun 28-30 2013: Wild Wolf Birthday Hash. Commercial event. Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

Jun 28-30 2013: Madison H3 RDR. Madison WI, USA. Jul 5-7 2013: German Nash Hash. Bad Tolz, Germany.

Jul 5-7 2013: Pan-Asia Hash 2013. Jomtien Beach, Thailand.

Jul 26-28 2013: Isle of Wight H3 30th Anniversary. Isle of Wight, UK. Aug 9-11 2013: New Orleans H3 RDR. New Orleans LA, USA. Aug 14-15 2013: H.A.R.D. O.N. RDR (Eurohash prelube). Copenhagen, Denmark.

Aug 16-18 2013: Eurohash 2013. Start in Helsinki, Finland; Eurohash ferry to Tallinn, Estonia and Stockholm, Sweden.

Aug 30-Sep 2 2013: InterAmericas Hash 2013. Playa Blanca Resort, Farallon, Republic of Panama.

Sep 6-8 2013: All China Nash Hash. Shanghai, China.

Oct 3-5 2013: Snooky H3 Island Hash. Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

Oct 9-13 2013: Chennai H3 13th Anniversary. Kerala, India.

Oct 12-14 2013: Japan Nash Hash. Kyoto, Japan.

Oct 25-27 2013: 15th Indochina Mekong Hash. Kunming, Yunnan, China.

Oct 25-27 2013: Colombo H3 2000th. Negambo, Sri Lanka.

Oct 25-27 2013: Las Vegas RDR. Las Vegas NV, USA. Nov 1-3 2013: BerZuBa 2013. Köniz, Switzerland.

Mar 13-16 2014: InterHash 2014. Hainan, China.

Jul 25-27 2014: Brussels 2014. Brussels, Belgium.

Sep 11-15 2014: USA Nash Hash. Indianapolis IN, USA.

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27 Jul Australia Outback Marathon/Half/11k/6k Ayers Rock, Australia http://australianoutbackmarathon.com/ 27 Jul Brisbane Marathon/Half/10k/5k Brisbane, Australia www.brisbanemarathon.com/ 01 Sep Kauai Marathon http://www.thekauaimarathon.com 22 Sep 43rd Annual Maui Marathon/Half/9k http://mauimarathonhawaii.com 22 Sep Sydney Marathon/H/9k Bridge Run Sydney, Australia www.runthebridge.com.au 06 Oct Luang Prabang Half Marathon Luang Prabang, Laos https://www.facebook.com/LuangPrabangHalfMarathon 06 Oct Colombo Marathon/Half/10k/5k Colmbo, Sri Lanka www.srilankamarathon.org 17 Oct Osaka Marathon www.osaka-marathon.com/index_en.html

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Running Calendar 2013

19 Oct Amari Watergate Midnight Run Bangkok, Thailand www.amari.com/watergate/charity-midnight-run.aspx

c

si as

Cl

T

hese are dark times here in the salubriously appointed OTI offices. Although, come to think of it, the light is always dim here in the recesses of Lolita’s Bar. The yellow light reflecting off the lurid red walls, combined with the effects of the Bombay Sapphire, always ultimately seems to give me a headache. And peering at the screen of this second- hand laptop does not help. The headache has, however, been more metaphysical in recent days as I have chewed over news of the death of one of the few Americans for whom I had any time.

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson recently shot himself at his home in Aspen, Colorado.

If you have to ask “Who?” I’m sorry for you. In those idle hours between Hash runs you should try and read something other than beer labels. It wouldn’t

86 HARRIER

kill you. The good Doctor wrote widely, and helped found a wildly imitated form of journalism where the writer consistently injected his own persona into the story, often at the expense of the facts. (See any parallels with the drivel I turn out here?) Not that he had any respect for the journalists, memorably saying, “Journalism is not a profession or a trade. It is a cheap catch-all for fuckoffs and misfits - a false doorway to the backside of life, a filthy piss-ridden little hole nailed off by the building inspector. but just deep enough for a wino to curl up from the sidewalk and masturbate like a chimp in a zoo-cage.”

I’m not sure that Thompson ever hashed, or even had heard of it, but I’m sure that he probably would have enjoyed it while realizing that much of it is “crap” and wouldn’t have been afraid to say so. For that, and the

fact that I suspect I would have enjoyed hashing with him, I’m awarding him a posthumous seat on the ice and a Chivas Regal down-down to go with it.

Back to the realm of lesser mortals, I note that the IQ (insanity quotient) of many people in my part of the world, South-East Asia, remains high. It seems that there is a downtown problem in Manila (the Philippines, that is. If some of you haven’t heard of the good Doctor then I can’t make any presumptions) is that pedestrians create a traffic hazard when many of them rush into the street almost indiscriminately to seek rides from Dassina cars. Thus, in January, police began to attach large wet blankets to some official vehicles roaming the streets, with the blankets flapping against the pedestrians, soiling their clothes and herding them back to the sidewalks.

(Pedestrians who remain in the street after being flayed are apparently arrested.) Surely the next step is to electrify these blankets?

Also in Asia, (and everywhere else, actually,) we have just entered the year the Chinese zodiac terms the Year of the Cock. Those of you familiar with the use, in Australia, of the term “cock” as a pejorative broadly equivalent to “dickhead” will be unsurprised to learn that (a) I was born in Sydney and (b) that that momentous event happened some 36 years ago in, that’s right, the Year of the ...Rooster. Those of you not fortunate enough to be celebrating your birth

year this year should fear not, however. Help is at hand. The Hong Kong company, Life Enhance, has introduced briefs and boxer shorts that it says will bring harmony to you this year by virtue of the dragon on the front (which gives balance in this, the “year of the cock”). Said a Life Enhance spokeswoman, “If you have a dragon on your underpants, you will be protected.” Ummm, from what?

On the subject of cocks, (if you think this is a very cheap segue, please refer to the comments above regarding journalism) I note that in Romania recently, Romanian doctors removed a man’s wedding ring

from his penis. The patient, who, apparently, was married and had two children, told doctors he had a one-night stand with another woman. He couldn’t say how the ring got onto his penis but suspected the woman wanted to embarrass him because he fell asleep during sex. Doctors said the man, from Rovinari, Jiu County, whose name was not revealed, would recover after the incident.

There are several morals here, people. One, always leave the wedding ring at home when you are out drinking. Two, if you are going to fool around, at least do it with a woman who might be interesting enough to keep you awake.

And finally, on the subject of drink, (the transitions are just sooo smooth in this article) it seems that an American Train conductor recently won $8.5 million in an out-of-court settlement with Burlington Northern and Santa Fe Railway, which was involved in a collision in 2002. The man suffered a mild concussion in the crash, which he said then triggered his sudden desire to become a serious alcoholic (leading to his eventual dementia), whereas he said his drinking had previously been under control. At last, a justification and a payout in one fell swoop. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to loiter on the train tracks that run past Buckskin Joe’s, off Sukhumvit Road.

Hell, next time you see me I might even be buying.

Assuming the payout comes in. On On. Going, Going, Gonzo is from the April-June 2005 edition of Asia-Pacific Harrier Magazine.

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