Nov 2007

Chantaburi, 17/18 Nov 2007


Peter 'Poopa Scoopa' K

Rudolf 'Bermuda Triangle' B

Heiko 'Hairy Gonads' F

Ride report

Ride:- 280/281                        17/18 November 2007. Venue: Krating Country Resort, Chanthaburi Province.Hares: Peter "Poopa Scoopa" K, Rudi "Bermuda Triangle" B and Heiko "Hairy Gonads" F.Scribe:- Probably wants to remain anonymous, but is Ben Edwards.After stepping up to run with the gauntlet and write this piece (read sitting between the 2 guys who wrote the last write ups and a 3rd chap who didn’t ride – thanks Randall) I happily volunteered to write this piece.  Being a long time rider first time hasher, I wasn’t sure what to expect but speaking with Butt Clencher prior to the day, I was assured it was quite a serious event where women have names like hairy gonads and the men behave like they have stepped straight out of a Monty Python scene.After all Hash Cash had been paid, a whistle blew and the preliminaries were covered and we set off. A slow trickle of riders began descending down the hill. Some faster than others, but all in the same general direction. We reached the first point of interest that we had been briefed about, a rickety bamboo bridge that was about as solid as the Berlin wall, all with camera crew sitting there like vultures waiting for the first casualty to topple into the water, well they went hungry that day.As we wound our way through the virgin undergrowth with vines tearing at rear derailleur’s it wasn’t long before we were back onto access roads to the rubber plantations with enough pot holes to damage those less well endowed hard tail riders. As we came back onto the bitumen a lovely left hand turn presented itself and a cruel hill climb up the side of the dam wall for those of us who haven’t seen a hill since leaving our home countries, this presented a good lung clearing workout.When Butt Clencher and others reached the top of the dam wall they had two options, firstly keep climbing up the side of the mountain where there was obvious signs of shredded paper on the side of the road or secondly smell a rat and go looking for the less strenuous pedal across the dam wall. No, like moths to a light or lemmings, Butt Clencher dragged a group of riders up the goat track past a bunch of local lumberjacks who were felling trees across the road, (not in an attempt to crush unsuspecting MTBers.) There was no sign that this was the work of the nasty German hares but that was half the problem, there was no FT or U Turn signs that I had briefed myself on in the comprehensive guide to BHHB. The Germans were playing mind games.After using up 4 Powerbars worth of energy I came back down the mountain to see what looked like a trail of ants, (on bikes) traversing across the dam wall, none the wiser to the cruel joke that had just transpired.The remaining first half of the ride went without major trauma and we rolled into the water stop where there was a small gathering of content bikers replenishing their secret sock of Tour de France HGP’s and electrolyte solutions while readying themselves for the second leg. A couple of Santa Cruz riders stood around admiring those bikes of the more well endowed Specialized brigade, wishing that they could become part of this more hardcore group, but sadly knowing that they would amount to nothing more than whipping girls for the Specialized crew.As we departed the drink stop I thought to myself, “wasn’t there a regulation that said a crash helmet was a compulsory piece of kit?” Mentally flipping back through the BHHB web page I scrolled down to the advice section and yes there it was, ‘A Crash helmet – occasionally people have a spill.” Yes my photographic memory served me well, yet here was a fellow hasher blatantly disregarding this well offered advice and only riding in her bandana and eyewear. I rode up beside her, daring whether I should ask this rebel why she was riding without a helmet. I built up the courage to ask her, “excuse me, are you the person with dementia that left your helmet back at the drink stop?” I didn’t get so much as a reply as a vacant stare that one would expect from a zombie in s Steven King novel. Then after what seemed like minutes, the HCH (Hard Core Hasher) replied, “No I left it there deliberately because I am hardcore.” I couldn’t argue with a woman whose buns of steel put Butt Clencher’s to shame. I pedalled off wary of what lay ahead.It wasn’t long before I was presented with a scene out of some American Dutch porno flick with two of the lead actors getting their gear off and squealing like they were the ones on the spit. It was a sadomasochistic scene with these two pantsmen, or lack of slapping each other and crying in pain (or was that pleasure?). A group of onlookers had pulled up behind the two on the single track to witness this perverse ritual and as I drew closer it was more bizarre as I sidestepped the obvious ants nest that has been planted at head height by the nasty Germans and I kept pedalling to get away from this display of manlove.The rest of the ride was a nice ride in the park with mostly paved roads and lack of hills, thankfully as I had a slow leak in my rear tyre that the slime was failing to fully seal (great waste of money that was).The final 2km was ridden back to the pool by trial and error as no one could actually find the paper trail so thankfully someone recognised the road back to the resort.As we pulled into the pool and dismounted our steeds, I saw a weary crew sitting and standing around drinking beer or iced lemon teas or their poison of choice. I saw one of the killer ant victims standing at the food table asking a small child, “Who gave you that big sausage?” I guess it takes all sorts.The 5 minute alarm was given until the “Circle” 15 minutes later the 2 minute alarm was given. Someone standing next to me muttered “F*#ing French, wouldn’t know what a watch was. I though this was uncalled for, but it takes all sorts.Eventually the circle was formed and those less fortunate or uninitiated were dragged into the centre and presented to the crowd like unsuspecting virgins on the alter. One burly chap bent down on one knee and was christened with an apt Hash Name – Cinderella. Another couple were dragged forward to highlight their homosexual choice of matching kit and then the new riders were introduced to the group. It was then off to shower and change for tea.This dinner was special as it was also the AGM. The present committee was thrown out and a new group were announced, that was about it.So in closing, as an introduction to Hashing this was as good as any. It is always an eye opener to see a different culture in its natural habitat and this sub culture definitely didn’t disappoint.


36.7 km, 575.0 m
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27.34 km, 266.0 m
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