Paths to Glory (wood)

  A totally unbiased and accurate writeup of run 2547 by ‘A Hasher’ (and not by the hares themselves at all).

  The merciless sun beat down on the gathering pack as eleven o’clock neared, all those present were already bronzed by the unexpected November heatwave and as a precaution, further sun oil had been applied, leaving the tanned bodies glistening in the sun.  As the final note of the ‘Last Post’ died away, Remembrance duties fulfilled, the pack were away, running like greyhounds across the car park and, within seconds, past the High Street up on to the grass of Cotmandene.  Delayed only briefly by the first check, Mrs G solved it and was soon sprinting far ahead of the pack as Atalanta, Bigfoot and Stevie Blunder tried vainly to catch her.  The next check was solved up St Paul’s road, to the third check and on up to the slopes of Tower hill.  Despite the blistering sun, the gradient scarcely slowed the pack who could be heard thanking the hares for laying a trail on such steep hills.  At the top, a loop through Glory Woods led past the Neolithic tumulus, sadly the pack were moving so fast here that the ancient site was merely a blur to them.  Master Bates was running so fast that he overshot the clearly marked turning for the trail and took a further half mile to come to a halt, before backtracking to find the trail, despite being within feet of intercepting it again when he turned back.  At the busy A24, a kindly old policeman on his bicycle stopped the traffic to allow the compact pack to cross; kindly old policeman on bicycles are very common in Dorking but only pass about once every five minutes, so the pack was a little lucky.  A slope that would have deterred some brought further cries of joy as muscles rippled and, led by Arfur Pint, the pack surged effortlessly up the hill where a magnificent panorama of the sunlit Weald awaited them.  On past a sea of golden beech leaves, then down through an estate where some of the deprived Rural Poor of Surrey live, an offered shortcut near here was spurned by almost all.  On past a huge house on ‘a farm’, allegedly once rejected by “Cap’n” Tony Webb as being ‘far too small’, next on to a bridge over the railway.  When recceing, the hares were concerned that the bridge would not be able to handle the concerted thunder of fifty hashers sprinting across simultaneously, so they arranged with Network Rail to have the entire railway line shut for the Sunday of the run and for the bridge to be strengthened.  The work was almost complete as the pack flashed over it on their way to Betchworth golf course and a back check that marked the turn for home.  Through sylvan glades hitherto untouched by hashers’ shoes, the trail led back past one magnificent house previously owned by a close relative of a prominent SH3 member, but also many small hovels, perhaps once owned by pauper industrial workers.  The front runner was seconds ahead of the rest of the pack (apart from Master Bates) and arrived back at the car park at exactly 12:02, precisely as planned by the Hares who then loudly thanked Uncle Gerry for his inspiration when selecting the route for the utterly brilliant trail.  The pack unanimously begged the RA to keep the circle going much longer than usual so that Master Bates would not be upset by arriving to find an empty car park; when he did arrive everyone cheered, went to the pub and enjoyed Hash chips and cheap beer.
The End