Run Details

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Clear skies but falling temperatures gave a distinctly autumnal feel to the evening, which probably accounts for the proliferation of yellow jackets in and outside the pub, although yellow shirts inexplicably were also in abundance prompting jokes about emails going to spam! NicO gave us a slightly convoluted description of marks we might find on trail (but didn’t) including X falsies up to 3 dots the wrong way, and off we charged up the High Street to Steep Lane where, despite several checks, and a couple of fishies, on the way, we would stay until reaching the Cissbury Ring car park. Passing cars were more likely dog walkers than doggers, looking to enjoy the spectacular sunset we were also treated to once we climbed to the Ring itself, trail continuing SW along the ridge before cutting south to the plantation to the bemusement of the cattles, and indeed, bats, all feeding in the descending twilight. Knowing the general direction of the pub, the pull to north was almost irresistible, but unfortunately wrong, as NicO kept us moving to get back for the 8.30 food curfew with a switchback descent to Findon Valley, and some enthusiastic clapping by the Findon Foxy Lady runners lined up either side as we reached the lower car park! A narrow path down probably explains why only 4/5 bothered with the final fishhook before we hit the A24 for a speedy on inn over the last half mile, much to my surprise as hare had done his homework - checking Wiggy’s previous route 8 years earlier, and slightly disdainfully mentioned his return along the road on that earlier occasion!
Once the queue for the Harveys had abated somewhat, Knightrider procured more beers for the circle and hare was thanked for a magical sunset hash, albeit up and down as opposed to his normal cats cradle modus operandi, to the GoD song. The sunny theme continued with recognition of those who hadn’t received the apparently telepathic message to wear yellow by calling Knightrider on yet another final hash, but given that he was drinking on behalf of Mudlark and Hash Gomi (amongst a few others), I suspect that the sun would have gone down in Saltdean a good number of seconds before out here in the west. Shoots Off Early had muttered “This looks ominous” as Eucharistic prep of the beer occurred at his altar, and he was right having left his wallet at the pub last week, the pub entrusting HG of all people with this knowledge. He wouldn’t be drinking alone though, as a late Pan Africa registration by Keeps It Up had meant only a 6XL tee was available, and having just arrived back from Ghana today, he soon discovered it was quite a reasonable fit over his multiple layers. Shirker had also attempted to stitch up KIU for something to do with a head torch, but RA didn’t understand the story at the time. Fortunately Hot Fuzz was happy to put us right, and take a beer, explaining that KIU had said, “You named your head torch?” rather than recognising the well-known brand Silva. The final beer was an ‘in absentia’ nomination by JAWS, who’d gone home to cook his tea, to an uncharacteristically reluctant in the face of free stuff, HG, for a fishhook counting failure. Although he changed his tune rapidly when the option to let Whose Shout take it was offered, the latter having offered up an appropriate number to down to from his grandson:
We all live in a yellow submarine, We didn't like yellow so we had it painted green,
We didn't like green so we repainted it red, The red paint was toxic so now we're all dead.
Announcements were then made about next week’s hash in Chelwood Gate by KIU; a Sunday East Grinstead H3 trail by Gromit from the Castle at Outwood; and someone even mentioned the C word, before the usual toast to another great hash!
Bouncer