DH3-21 Like a Fish Hash Recap

21 Apr

There are things that in the course of normal life we may regret. We consider the totality of circumstances, the surroundings, the environment, the social implications, etc. There are those sorts of things, & then there is hashing, thank goodness. & so it is that someone exemplifying all the behaviors one might imagine an inebriated eight year-old to exhibit can write this narrative without a great deal of shame.

We gathered on Friday last to celebrate the greatness of our departing friends Frogfucker & Whisperstick. They have been with us since our inception & have been absolutely fundamental to the warp & weft of our every hash. The entire feel of our gatherings is colored by their idiosyncrasies & their unflagging commitment to the basic tenets of the hash. To say they will be missed is an understatement. & so we had to honor them best we could– with four beer nears, an enormous bonfire, some general debauchery & a wealth of rotgut liquors.

Reacharound & GSS put in a trail that wound us through willows, over ice, down & back up Halfway Creek, over one of the finest ten acre parcels you’ll ever see & then out on to the flats behind the dispatch house, where curious onlookers stood over a grill with arched eyebrows & mystified countenances, uncertain whether to shoot, shit or go blind. Exposed shins were torn asunder, blood flowed, Hamms & R&R went down smooth in honor of our humblest beginnings & the group plodded along in search of the elusive hares. New trail designations for Fish & Yeager Fish were created. Rusty took bites at people’s asses. There was not to my knowledge any obvious display of alcohol abuse, nor of upchucking, nor of egregious trail behavior. Sure, a group of SCBs almost skipped the penultimate beer near, heading directly for the gravel pit, but they were roped back in in short order.

Once we all returned to the gravel pit, the Circle commenced. Oration was provided over a bed of toxic flame after a road flare lit the dog box on fire (many thanks to Davy Cockit & to Buckskin O for their respective contributions to the fire). Down downs were administered, the hallowed stars of the evening appropriately celebrated, the gargantuan bonfire lit & ludicrous behaviors begun. Beerfoot, group mooning & windshield urination were the orders of the day, for better or worse. In a highly stylized ritual, Frogfucker anointed Reacharound as our new Religious Adviser. It was a reverent passing of the baton, & a well deserved one at that.

The night ended variously, as it tends to do. Some withdrew quietly, others were carried to waiting escorts. The fire paled, the embers cooled, & the hash, alas, said its final farewell to dear friends.

Rest assured, though, hounds & harriers, we will honor Frogfucker & Whisperstick as we have honored all of our friends who inexplicably take jobs Outside– by continuing to drink while running the shittiest trails we can find. On on!

Hares: Reacharound Lindeman, Glistening Shit Stick

Hounds: Ranchdick McKinley, Frogfucker, Whisperstick, Davy Cockit, Backup Ranger, Shitfoot, Young Buck, Blow it Twice, Double Pole, Tundra Thumper, Millenium Crotch, Papa Smurf Jiz Face, NNKorhut, NNRaffaeli, Snowplow Pussyface, Serbian Jungle Chode, Randy S. Beavers, NNMiliken, NNKing, Buckskin O’Connor, Stephen Cocking. Who am I forgetting?

Ferriers & Miscellany: Poison, Leprecockin, Borrowed Panties, NNSivvy, NNRagland, NNCorey, NNThompson, NNTFlo

Beer Nears: Hamms & R&R

Trail: Shitty, shitty, then flat (which was shitty)

New names: Young Buck, Shitfoot

Really: NNRaffaeli doesn’t have a name? Really?

DH3-21 Like a Fish Hash, April 18th

6 Apr


In the immortal words of Robert Frost (or Ponyboy, depending on your sources), nothing gold can stay. It is with that curious combination of crestfallen sadness at their pending absence & enthusiastic joy for their future endeavors that we say goodbye to Frogfucker & Whisperstick, two of the stalwart foundations of the Denali 3H Kennel. Frogfucker has been our Religious Adviser all this while, & without his direction & Whisperstick’s endless encouragements, who knows how the kennel will shape up in their wake. But for now, they are here, & we will send them off in the grand style that we’ve always sought & never fully achieved. Yes, hounds & hares, this will be to date our most ambitious hash. Do not half-ass this thing like I always seem to do.

When: Friday, April 18th, 6:30-7:00 p.m. Meet at the State gravel pit no later than 6:45 to be shuttled to Reacharound & Randy’s house. That way, you will be the more swiftly reunited with your vehicle at the On In.

Where: The home of Reacharound Lindeman & Randy S. Beavers

Theme: Drink like a Fish, Dress like a Fish, Run like a Fish

Course: A to B, ending at the gravel pit, where a bonfire of epic proportions ought to ensue

Remember folks, this is akin to losing our Pope & our High Priestess. Let’s send them back to California with fresh memories of shitty trail, tussocks gleaming with Hamms, Canadian Hunter flowing like water & flames licking the heavens. Or something.


Stampede Beer Mile, Friday, 7:30

31 Dec

New Year’s Resolution #1: Break our existing Alaskan record for blazing fast speed in the hallowed beer mile.

#2: Do so in the customary garb we associate with the pending Sochi Olympics (celebrate the pageantry without celebrating that whole vaguely fascistic intolerance thing).

#3: Adhere to this strict set of rules:

1. All participants must drink one full beer before starting, at the 1/4 mile mark, at the 1/2 mile mark & at the 3/4 mile mark.
2. All participants must imbibe said beer out of an aluminum can unadorned with such features as big gulp tops or the like.
3. All beer must be at least 5% ABV. PBR counts, just for reference.
4. All participants must provide their own beer. Bring a six-pack.
5. This will be a timed event. We have to get on the official books here.
6. If a participant vomits, he or she must run an extra 1/4 mile.
7. All beer must be consumed in full in a ten meter transition zone (5 meters on either side of the 1/4 mile marks). Participants can’t begin drinking until in the transition zone, nor can they begin running until they have finished their beer.
8. No shotgunning or other forms of can tampering.
9. Witnesses are welcome, but your names can’t be entered into the tomes for one night’s posterity.

Remember, in running the beer mile we harriers join in with another venerable tradition. Results will be submitted to the official beer mile record keepers.

Where: Meet at Reacharound Lindeman’s, A to B ending at Ranchdick McKinley & Glistening Shit Stick’s (meaning meet on Menkent for prayer, end with pizza at the end of Denebola)

When: 7:30, Friday, January 3, 2014

Why: It is a moral imperative. Plus, can you think of a better way to welcome in the new year? No. No, you can’t.



DH3-20 Rainbows & Unicorns Hash

25 Sep


Saturday, September the 28th, at Back-up Ranger’s residence at 6:00 pm. You know what to do.

DH3-19 Billy Dee Selleck Hash Recap

23 Jun

The Legend

The Legend

Although many of our regular hashers were elsewhere engaged, wearing shinguards & sporting euro-mullets &, worst of all, NOT drinking Colt .45 on the soccer field, an intrepid handful gathered at the state gravel pit for a good old fashioned summertime hash. I ended up being fairly fond of the public meeting spot in spite of any reservations. Took the pressure off of everyone, & there weren’t any dishwashers for people to topple over on top of & break.

I hared it solo, adjusting my grandiose notions of tree-climbing & ravine crossings & all around awfulness to incorporate the plain fact of not really having a plan. Turns out I found some good shin-splicing willows, some fine mud puddles, a good deal of shiggy & not much else. It never really picked up, speedwise. I was assisted greatly by the joint efforts of Hoss & Wangus, who sampled each bit of flour to ensure quality.

Hounds had the pleasure of imbibing Essence of Selleck (Malibu, Bacardi Limon & orange cream soda) dropped into a Solo cup of Colt 45, & then, later along, taking down a cold cup of Billy Dee infused Tom Selleck (i.e. a shot of 45 in a rum & Coke). They all collectively decided to shortcut the trail, since I led them to the precipice of the pit, so, you know, I suppose it’s understandable. One notable exception was my wife, Poison (a name in sore need of revision), who had the grave misfortune of walking carefully around the cliff, only to sprain her ankle miserably on a rock not ten feet from the car. When I say miserably, I mean it was the size of a grapefruit, & remains swollen & sorely bruised unto this day.

In the circle, the following were determined:
NNDittmar became Millenium Crotch
a NN cannot be given a name unless he or she actually runs

Hounds present: Poison, Frog Fucker, Whisperstick, Ranchdick, Millenium Crotch, NNMaher, NNHistrand (who maybe got a name? I don’t remember), Pussyface Snowplow, Buckskin O’Connor

Hare: Serbian Jungle Chode

All in all, the mud & sweat & bugs made it clear that summer is upon us. Before these arid Saharan climate swings dry up all the nastiness of the trail, it would be good to launch another hash in the not too distant future. Any willing hares or hosts in the Village? On the ‘pede? Points in between not in the park?

We’ll figure it out. Until then, on on!

Billy Dee Selleck Hash, Thursday, June 13

3 Jun


I have been remiss, good friends of the 3H kennel. It has been nearly two months since our last hash. Two months fraught with lingering snow, thigh-deep post-holing, transitions aplenty & possibly the shortest Spring I’ve ever witnessed. One day snow, one day summer.

But, more importantly, with that sudden surge of summer’s susurrus came great opportunity. I behold the landscape now with the eager eyes of a hash house harrier hell-bent on the analysis positively Dickinsonian Possibility. Which is to say, let’s go play in the mud.

We cordially invite you to the first-of-its-kind (I hope) Billy Dee Selleck Hash on Thursday, June the 13th. Let’s make up for that two month lapse by celebrating two of the great luminaries of our time, Billy Dee Williams & Tom Selleck. Some Colt 45 & some rum & Coke with a touch of Rose’s lime, anyone? Or are we talking the Selleck of cheap American lager? Time will tell, my friends. Time will tell.
I think we’ll have it on the Stampede somewhere, & at the usual time. Any Stampeders with houses not in utter disarray from moving & projects? I would very much like the honor of haring this one. It is a new year, a new season, & somewhere in that novelty there sings a song with a melody only previously intimated.
So break out your finest Lando costume, your finest P.I. Hawaiian shirt, whatever you’d like to wear to honor these two emblems of an age gone by.
On on, & let the summer hashing begin!

DH3 18 Infectious Disease Hash Recap

16 Apr

Good lord that hurt. I mean, why even do a hash themed around infectious disease if the effects of the night aren’t going to malinger for a day or two, right? Commit to it & all of that happy horseshit, right?

It was the first ski hash after discussing ski hashes for a long while, & the trail was surprisingly comparable to a running trail in terms of false leads, diversions, surprises & the like. The gracious Tundra Thumper did not lead we poor skiers up or down any considerable hills, but let us wend our way through the deep snow with a relative sense of equilibrium. Until the first of the two potions was unveilved, that is. I did not have a lighter handy, but if I had, I think I would have been able to offer conclusive evidence that one can indeed create a fireball merely by breathing after downing a sip of that potent concoction. With eight of us on skies, each of the two full thermos-loads of curative spirits translated roughly to way too much whiskey. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, we all arrived safely back at Tundra Thumper’s in a gentle, mild-mannered cluster.

& then someone brought out the Canadian Hunter.

canadian 2

& what more fitting way to gather & send off two of our longstanding hares (& to say hello & goodbye again to another) than in a furious & seemingly ceaseless round of raised salutes involving cheap whiskey? Semen Sanchez & the newly minted Mrs. Push Pop will be sorely missed, as will Red Pony. We wish them the best along their hazy, blurry trails to come & leave them knowing that the hash will always welcome them back, even if its hounds & hares continue to shift.

Hare: Tundra Thumper

Hounds Who Actually Skied: Poison, Frog Fucker, Whisperstick, Serbian Jungle Chode, Double Pole/Pull, NN Johnson, NN Foster, Buckskin O’Connor

Hounds Who Kitchen-Bitched: Red Pony, Semen Sanchez, Mrs. Push Pop, Ranchdick McK, Glistening Shit Stick, Davy Cockit. NN Ditmar, Nutsack Landing Strip. Anyone else?

Trail: As mentioned, surprisingly good for having to use skis. People are good at skiing around those Village parts.

Down downs were various & exhaustive. I was for one waxing rhapsodic about shifting seasons. I may have been drooling while doing so.

Our next hash will commence planning immediately. Any interested hares or hosts please let me know. Let’s take full advantage of break-up & lay some shitty, muddy trail, yeah?

On on!


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