Write-up of ScandiJock2018
Friday 5th of October
It started already at Arlanda Airport, when waiting for our flight, we happened on two Lost Souls. Four'n'Twenty who wasn't supposed to fly out of Arlanda, and Bubbles, who was on the less direct route from Bergen, via Oslo and Arlanda to Edinburgh. Luckily the flight was more or less on time, but the coffee onboard was awful, so it evened out somehow.
At Edinburgh airport we picked up our rental, and invited Bubbles to share the blame. Of course, our rental company was the only one with a que, the other being empty, so you wonder why they need four or five companies when only one seems to work just as well (another strange thing is that our rental company was Interrent but the car we got had a sticker that sad Europcar). Never mind that, it still had the steering wheel on the passenger side which made driving a bit awkward.
On the way to fair Melrose we passed the Glenkinchie distillery, and an idea sprang to mind - let's stay overnight at the distillery and let the hash come and get us on Saturday after the run! Sadly, we realised that the distillery might have "rules" against overnight guests, so we continued boldly onward to the Scottish Borders. Melrose turned out to be a village were most of the nightlife was concentrated close to our hotel, which was a good thing for some of the Hashers. The manager at the George and Abbotsford was very helpful, but when asked about places to eat, she suggested a bakery (!) and a coffeeshop (!) It was a good thing that when we drove into town I had spotted a pub very close by. This became our first visit of many to the Ship Inn, were the food was good and beers were served without undue delays.
Ingrid, Bubbles and I enjoyed our beers for a while, and one after the other Hashers started to arrive. Hippoty Hop leading the German contingent of Longshanks, Queen of Shots and SnotEnough. Horse and Tonedeaf representing the locals, and many more. Even the Organizer of the Week-end, Bruce Almighty, showed up for a quick update i.e. beer. Then down to the hotel to get our rooms and to register for the event and get our goodie bags; a very nice BIG personalised metal whisky measure. The room fairy i.e. Bruce Almighty had already prepared our rooms Scottish Style and left a whisky miniature and a packet of Scottish Shortbread for each.
Later on it was time for the first official event of the week-end - The Pub Crawl. After a couple of drams or beers or whatever was your fancy, at the hotel car park, the pack set off into the darkness of the backstreets of Melrose. In Melrose the backstreets aren't long and before we knew it we were at the Station Hotel for the first (or second, depending on how you count) drink stop. At the Station Hotel (where we had our first run in with two beautiful Northern Inuits (a dog breed)), some brave Hashers (including yours truly) volunteered to cut the pub-crawl short (and not visit Ship Inn, again) and to go back to hotel and make sure that they didn't close before the rest of the pack came back. After a night cap or two it was time to go to bed as it had been a long day, and Saturday was going to be longer, tougher and contain even more whisky.
Saturday 6th of October
After breakfasts, solid and liquid, it was time to, in a disorderly fashion board the bus. Eagerly we waited for take-off, but alas someone was missing. After a bit of toing and froing it was decided that Soaked Arse was the one missing (although not missed). A quick jog (!) by Bruce, and a hearty booh by everybody, later the Arse was onboard, and we could finally leave for the day's adventures. First off, we had to drive more than halfway back towards Edinburgh, whiskies and other drinks making their rounds aboard, to be dropped off in the middle of Nowhere (which I'm quite sure is an official region of Scotland), for The Run. The Hare, Hughiee Blaarghh, talked us through the trail marks, which essentially was "The Trail goes that way, and if you want the short route follow me". The Followers of Hughiee had a very nice trek basically along a burn, the sun (!) started to shine and warm us, and the runners ran all over the place.
A while and a drink-stop later we arrived at The Goal of the Day, the Glenkinchie distillery and promptly divided into two groups. Cuming Slowly looked suspiciously happy to be separated from Standing Ovation, but perhaps it was all the whisky "talking". The tour was fun and informative, commendably short, and as a group I believe we surprised our guide not only with our knowledge of drinking whisky, but also making it. The tour ended with several wee drams of very nice Glenkinchie whiskies before we were let lose in the gift shop.
Basking (or perhaps basting?) in the sun, waiting for everyone to get to the bus, some found a bunch of caged wild cats nearby to keep them amused for a while. During the same while others helped Foggy Glasses introduce his newly bought Friendship Bowl, so I guess we are all friends now. By now stomachs were grumbling, so onboard the bus again towards the Borders again. We ended up in half a communion hall for some pieces and drinks, Run2Eat found the Irn-Bru, and was then generally lost to humanity on an aspartame and caffeine high for the rest of the afternoon.
Calapso, our 15-second RA (it's either how long time he needs to prepare for a circle, or how long time he lasts (you can always ask Fanny Chill if you want to know for sure)) took on the job with gusto and Audrey. As usual most down-downs were based on misconstrued facts or half fabricated truths. Ingrid managed a solemn salute to dear departed Sofa, which brought tears to the eyes of many in the circle. It was also decided that Aarhus, DK, will be organising the next ScandiJock. Stomachs full and spirits high (and rising) we then took the bus further South (but not to far mind you, or we might have ended up in England (!)), back to Melrose where a relieved bus driver dropped us off.
We had some time to prepare before dinner, so we all changed from "running" gear into fancy party gear. The program said "tartan" so "tartan" it was. We were led into the dining hall by a piper who played through the first steps of the dinner, including the Presenting of the Haggis performed admirably by Yark Sucker. Hughiee then read a traditional Scottish poem, long an incomprehensible both, unless you were brought up on doorstep pieces. Then finally the haggis was served, and it was really tasty, but the neeps were overcooked and tasteless, the tatties were watery, and can only be considered as a culinary accident. After dinner it was back to the bar for more drinks, and a second run in with the two Inuits, now in the roll of door mats, before it was time to go to bed again, for a good night's sleep and to be ready for Sunday's adventures.
Sunday 7th of October
Thanks to time being fluid, the start of the hangover run could happen at any time, but it did in fact start when it did, despite several hashers thinking (!) differently, having trusted (!) the information on the web-page. Some were sleeping (despite it being after check-out time), other were tourists and others I guess were just plain gone. Waiting for the hare, Bruce to come back we finished off some bottles of assorted spirits, but in the end Hughie and I said, "Fuck Bruce, let's get this run on the trail". Hughiee doing the the chalk-talk followed the formula "The Trail goes that way, and if you want the short route follow me" again, with the extra caveat "DO NOT CROSS THE RIVER AT ANY TIME IF YOU WANT THE SHORT RUN" (More on that later). In the ancient tradition of Honor Among Hares, Hughiee immediately took the pack off trail on an extreme short cut, and for a long time we didn't see any trail markings at all. We ambled past the rugby club, the parish church (it does make the place sound larger than it is) all the way up to the Bay Waverley Castle Hotel, where we turned into a path towards the River. A kilometre or so downstream we reached an old bridge across the river. A signed proclaimed that a maximum of eight people at a time was allowed on it, and Hughiee in orderly fashion sent a bunch of hashers across it, but no more than eight at a time. Of course, we then had to go back again as we'd forgot the 1st rule of Hashing, 'Never trust a Hare'. We, of course, had also forgotten all about the "do not cross the river" part of the chalk talk. With Hughiee having had his fun it was time to get back to the parking lot for a quick final circle, before ending ScandiJock2018.
ON-ON, ON-Over and On-out
V.D.Viking
A dropbox link to Audrey's write-up of the same event -
https://www.dropbox.com/s/nlyjqb2msirhcxv/Scandijock%202018.pdf?dl=0
and a link to an album with plenty of visual aids to go with the above llink