A Hashing We Will Go!

I sooo miss hashing. We discovered this running/hiking group in Antigua, hashed like crazy in Grenada, and then met lots and lots of people while hashing in St. Kitts. The thing is, it seems the Caribbean style of hashing isn't quite the same as the US or some other countries. In the Caribbean, they're more family style. A little raunchy, lots of drinking, but still set with kids and dogs in mind most of the time. I first realized that this wasn't the way it was everywhere when we debated moving to Puerto Rico. The first thing I did was look to see if they had a Hash House Harrier chapter. Yes, but their website was for those over age 18. ?! When we got to Key West, we were pleased to discover they had a hash group too, but then realized that it wasn't for the prudish. I hadn't considered myself in the prude category, but I was still shocked at the really raunchy rugby-type songs, the amount of personal body parts exhibited, and the focus on drinking before, during, and after. Where was the hiking? The views? The hikers of all ages? Everyone was friendly, but it just wasn't the same. This style of hashing is not unique to Key West, but what is Key West specific is that the group is trying to make the best out of the fact that they're on a flat island that's 4 by 2 miles. How to do that? Make it themed every time, dress up, and drink a lot (to be fair, the HHH motto is that it's "a drinking club with a running problem"). I hash for the exercise, the view, the challenge, to experience new places (going to locations I might not have felt safe going to by myself) and to meet a variety of people. Some of this is just not physically possible in Key West, so I don't go (it's not them; it's me). In St. Kitts, which is about 25 by 5 miles, locals are still discovering places on the island they've never been to before (and that's after 20 years of hashes; one every three weeks). And Saturday was no different.

We had a crowd of just under 100 people,
some of whom were shocked to see me. There were lots of hugs, and then it was time to get down to business. Let's start walking.



It has gotten hotter and more humid here in the past couple of days, so we got pretty soaked. It was worth it though as we went from view to view. Clouds blissfully gave us a break from the sun, but they also darkened a lot of my photos.



Farms here look a little different.



I had done a really long run down the peninsula early that morning, so this hike seemed harder than it did the day we set it earlier in the week. At one point, a piece of barbed wire snagged my sock, and as I was trying to unsnag it, a wild pig ran at me. There was a baby pig running around and it didn't like Betsy either.

Can you see the cows behind these guys? The running of the bulls!

Afterwards, I got stuck with 2 down downs. One for helping set the hash, the other for returning to the island. I ended up wearing most of the first beer (if you don't finish your drink in the allotted time, you get it poured over your head).



But I dug deep on that second one and got it down. It was almost like doing a beer bong. So proud. Sheesh.



At one point, a goat herder came through quite confused as to what we were doing there.

Why would a well-seasoned hasher wear new shoes knowing this was going to happen to him? No matter how many times I see it (and have had to do it), it's still gross to watch. I always love the look on the faces of the other hashers.




We hung out until the very end, catching up and having the usual really weird conversations with a variety of people, and then we four hash setters headed to the same rum shop we had gone to earlier in the week to toast ourselves. Because it was a Saturday night, there were many colorful people out and about, several putting on a show for us outsiders. This is a world so many visitors and expats never see, and I'm always grateful for my long-time islander pals and the hashers for giving me a chance to experience it. The shop owners allowed us to use their bathroom and the bulb inside made white stuff glow. Cool.


In the midst of the usual poverty was a guy some of my group knew who pulled up in a BMW. Heather was brave enough to take it for a spin. There was no way I was going to do that. As I waited for her return, I couldn't help but notice the complicated electrical grid. The folks in the Dominican Republic were true experts at this too.

When I got back home, I made some popcorn and then watched as a huge centipede came out from under the couch I was sitting on and then watched as it disappeared under the TV. Betsy watched it too. Hrmph. Cats always remedy such a situation. Where the heck was Flush? I had to go to bed knowing that nasty creature was in here.

It's morning and Betsy is so pooped she won't get off her doggy bed. I'm still walking around tentatively because there's still a giant centipede in the house (got my shoes on and am looking up a lot). Is it beach time yet?