The Run

  With the price of diesel these days, Bigfoot and M.I.A. set off at dawn to hike to the run-site car park at Lightwater Leisure Centre, arriving in timely fashion at 10.50am. A smaller than anticipated pack had gathered, although this would increase with a few late arrivals – usual suspects. No GM, so Bolshie and Ms Bean were taking control; Bolshie immediately accosting Bigfoot to state, ‘right you are the scribe and probably checking chicken’. Bigfoot initially had to decline both of these exceptional offers, since he had recently had an expensive life-altering injection in his right knee, and was not supposed to exercise, and therefore would probably not leave the car park. [Ed: hadn’t you arrived on foot?!]

  Therefore this is the scribe report that I wasn’t writing, as I mistakenly set off with the pack at 11.00am whilst in deep conversation about summat or other. But I walked, which felt unusual, and got a ‘different’ SH3 experience. We headed east into trees in an unexpected direction with Check 1 being broken into the housing estate – this caught out some front runners checking among bushes. However, only a few house driveways later we were back on ‘normal’ trail as we navigated around the rather dried out ‘duckponds’ heading back into the country park. Bonn Bugle sniffed a short-cut opportunity, so while others wound around the ponds, she short-cut straight to Check 2.

  Heading towards the M3, Check 3 took a little longer than it should have done. Ms Bean approached from the direction of the check, with late-arrival Atalanta, coming the opposite way. They must have been nattering upon encountering one another, since they both missed seeing the three splodges of sawdust at their feet, and set off hunting in alternate directions. So it was that, our now rarely seen Mother Brown, had to eventually show them how to check, found the sawdust, and called On On. Onward and upward we headed west – easy Check 4 broken forward, and the pack now stretched out in consequence as we headed out of trees and into tracts of flowering Calluna vulgaris, and to already meet the Walker / Runner split.

  Runners were heading over the new M3 footbridge into never never land, and thence beneath the Camberley-Bagshot railway I heard, but a sign indicated that Walkers should head left and ‘follow purple’. Already chancing it with my injected knee, I elected to follow purple, but where? Everywhere was purple heather as far as the eye could see. Which purple heather to follow? Common sense told me to follow the purpleyist purple heather, and I dropped down among adder and lizard country, eventually finding myself at an M3 underpass where there was a circle of sawdust. Good, no search party necessary, I will just wait here until the ‘lost boys’ and girls return from never never land.

  First to appear out of the culvert was Bolshie, who had shortcut, and probably didn’t bother with the railway. A while later, we had Atalanta in her yellow rain jacket, and Ms Bean. The former checked right the latter left, but it was MIA who checked forward and broke this rather simple check, which immediately stumbled onto the next check. Counter-intuitively, it was broken right, and so the big climb ensued. At this point, I teleported myself to the hilltop. Ms Bean was the first to come past, shocked to find what she thought was a stump-ensconsed forest elf already there.

  From here on it was a windy trail that remained on the plateau gravels to the overcast viewpoint at High Curley, from where the tour-guide stated that Wembley Arch could be glimpsed. The plateau gravels, originating from great tundra rivers, during the seasonal meltwater floods of the last ice age, form an erosion resistant cap on all the ridge tops around here…in case you were wondering.

  Down off the plateau gravels into the easily eroded softer sand of the older Eocene Barton Beds and Bagshot Beds, we made our north-easterly way back towards the car park. Last home were SBJ and Blue Suit, who had not been noted on the trail at all – BSs (wrong side of bed day) muttering under his breath something about a dodgy trail.

The Circle and Beyond

  Visitors were introduced, beered and sung to, which included P*le F**ker’s friend from Pattaya. It was also good to see our now infrequent member, Mother Brown join us today [not yet summering in Australia?]. The Hares were thanked and on-downed. Belcher as RA performed and kept the French flavour alive with a story joke about frogs. All were saddened and tearful to hear that, Looby-Loo Lucy, was heading back to the United States the next day, under military escort to ensure she left the country. All except Hansy Pandy, der Schwantz maybe? Lucy excelled at this, her last Surrey hash for now, by singing the frog sinners their on-down frog song, which was largely a flubbery-lip chorus she had learned at primary school.

  Bonn Bugle very kindly presented MIA and Bigfoot with an envelope of cash following a whip-round, to go out for dinner together, as thanks for organising the SH3 trip to Provence.

  On On to the Red Lion, Lightwater, where a goodly number enjoyed company, beer/wine and chips in the garden.

  On on
  Bigfoot