Run No. 107 - December 4th - Report
What do you get when you let loose into a 4000 acre plot (read:
plantation), two siblings from the honourable highland running tribe
(read: the Olympiads) and ask them to set a Hash run?
A new locally designed amateur practice distance: 1-third marathon!
Yes, they 'treated' the poor but suspecting hashers to a 14.37km (who was
counting?) touristy excursion around the scenic sights of the Harriet’s
domain. Indeed, this was a hash with a difference.
It began relatively innocently at the milk 'filling station' off Malindi
road, from where we were led through the plantation mini-forest to a
refreshingly scenic 'wet' hold, Mnarani Sailing Club.
With lovely sounds of the natural wildlife en-route the entire 5.2km
stretch - birds, insects and reptiles we thankfully didn't meet - it
gave the aura of descending through an undeclared national reserve.
Ah, what beauty: the bridge over yonder… the array of peacefully bobbing
boats… the hills and valleys gracefully out-of-reach.... who could tell what
lay ahead?
Oops, we were reminded rather soon! What comes down....? (Why do hares love doing this to the hashers around here)… Up (puff...), up (puff....) and away we went, on-on through another near 6 km of lolling meadows of endless lazy long grass, towards the spectacular setting sun, to yet another surprise in the form of a hold, a van, and a cooler full of delightful looking Water melons- YUM! Now, THAT'S what I call invigorating! All reached out greedily for piece after thirst-quenching-yet-energizing piece, as they waited upon the strugglers to arrive.
Next lesson learnt? The early FRBs
rest the longest, and gobble up the biggest and best pieces! Then guess
what?
Even with darkness looming, we were cheerily informed that we were on the last
leg home. Thus energized, the tire-ringly, tireless FRBs
sped off with glee, as the rest confidently strung along in the hope of
keeping up; of course until reliable sources (AKA the hare) informed us we had
only about 4 km to go....
Let's just say, the reliable source helped the amateurs (read: willing-spirit-unwilling-body-parts) by 'lifting' us in his handy van to sort of help us keep up, or 'past' the frontrunners (weren't we promised in fairy tales that all hares fall asleep long enough for us tortoises to steal past and win? ya, so let's pretend they were asleep!).
So how did the cheeky pair apologise? The Harriet availed her beachside resort (in the name of her residence), as the hash-home for the circle. Words cannot describe the spectacular view of the endless ocean meeting with the endless skies only at the far-away horizon, the calming quietness broken only by the waves breaking and occasionally crashing into the hanging cliff upon which this house is built, and the colourful twinkling of lights at regular fishing-boat spots as night romantically set in...(sigh!). (Okay, no-one mention the wiff of dripping sweat of arriving FRBs.....ahem....carried away by the cooling winds!).
And as if the awesome view was not enough, we were then treated to bitings, and drink-all-you-can hash-holy-water, natural water, and yoghurt (again I say, YUM!). In return, we entertained with down-downs, and a sampling of the hash baptismal ceremony to welcome WOW and V officially into our midst. The infectious happy laughter carrying along the waves to the neighbours signified the end of a fantabulous evening, and a fantabulous 107th run.
To H-O & sis : you are eternally forgiven, WELL DONE!
To Mr. (unprintable) from Amsterdam: Thank you for joining us, we hope you travel back safely, and that the memoirs will bring you back soon!
To the Swankers and visitors: As always, thank you for actively participating, ON-ON!!!!
To the readers, I ask what we always ask one another... if it wasn't for the hash, HOW else would I be enjoying the scenic fresh-air-beauty of the Kilifi Plantations, or admiring the humbling expanse of the Ocean from this-here (be-yu-ti-ful) beach-side-residence, for only KSH 270/=?