Hashers,

Your local Flatlanders hashed on Friday.  Here's a recap for those of
you without the common indecency to show up.

The typical disclaimers apply to this trash, though more strenously,
since the author was a hare and did not share in the pack's tomfoolery.

Usually the author starts with some drivel about how the hounds gathered
at the start, but this time he was boasting about tossing the first
powder at 6pm on the dot, so he felt compelled to leave before the
disbelieving hounds gathered.  It can be assumed that they did, in fact,
gather, and also that they were a bit anxious about the weather, which
was blowing across with some intensity.  Nervous yipping from the pack
was heard as Deep and Cum Silent outpaced a cheating Humpsalot to open
the trail.  Having placed a CB at the start, the hares felt confident,
and forged ahead into idyllic Sawhill Ponds, out near 75th and Valmont,
northeast of Boulder.  The trail split before long, as trails are want
to do, the left fork snaking around a large pond on fisherman paths
under limbo-inducing tree limbs, the right hooking back on itself in a
glorious shoreline BT.  Unfortunately, Cummy Pinko and some of her
packmates were oblivious to the BT on the right fork and stumbled upon a
couple hundred meter long shortcut around the more pack-friendly east
shore.  Andy (unnamed) led the charge through a number of powdery DPs,
through Walden Ponds, and up past the water treatment plant to the
north.  Here, the trail turned eastward at a DP foolishly sending a bad
trail to the very bank of Boulder Creek just to the north.  Andy
(unnamed) kindly followed out a CB 32, designed for Two Holes, who
skipped his way to the finish with one phone call, and regathered the
pack one powder previous to the foolish DP at the creek.  A devilishly
clever trail took off from there along the creek bank westward to a
crossing of only a few inches depth.  The pack wet themselves and
scrambled up the field on the other side.  Humpsalot nearly impaled
himself and his handler on the barbed wire separating the field from Jay
Rd, but the pack stumbled on.  Mt Hood, in typical FRB fashion, sniffed
out a YBF shortly after the trail turned north on Carter Trail, and
followed it to its bitter end, well to the east, and dangling out in the
middle of nowhere, as a good YBF should.  He was religious about his
pack arrows, even continuing to lay them as he shortcut across and
through and around the golf course to the north, which the trail never
touched beyond harmless flirtation.  

These arrows would come back to haunt Jess (unnamed), as she was trying
to track down the pack after starting a bit late.  It turns out that
Jess (unnamed) rejected the CB 32 on the south side of Boulder Creek and
followed what she expected, rightly, to have been Deep's original route,
down a bike bath to the 75th St bridge.  At this point, she circled back
around and followed Jay Rd smartly back to Carter Trail.  She then found
Mt Hood's pack arrow leading along the YBF, and not much leading along
true trail (bad hounds!), so followed the snowcap to doom.  Turns out
that after she misguidedly followed Mt Hood's droppings into the golf
course, the sprinklers came on and washed away whatever remains he might
have left leading back to trail.  She became so dismayed that she jumped
out onto Lodgepole and stripped to her skivvies, attracting the interest
of an older gentleman with a car.  This fellow drove the desperate
bowser back to 75th, where the couple snagged Amy (unnamed) and her
award.  They went back to the beginning, or so they say, and started
over from there.  The story has a happy ending in that Jess (unnamed)
and Amy (unnamed) made it to down-downs after all, and were celebrated
for their minor achievement.

Mt Hood, meanwhile, had managed to get himself back to Carter Trail,
north of an enormous and lovely 8-way DP, and he and his virgin Ryan
(unnamed) mounted some razor wire (ouch!) to successfully cross a
severly protected aqueduct and get back on trail near Twin Lakes.  The
rest of the pack discovered that the 8-way DP featured 7 marked bad
trails and a 3 and out.  Router saved the day when he noticed that a
sign reading "Lost Puppy - Reward" actually read something like "R U A
Lost Puppy?  Follow this map to your boozy Reward", which he did, and
the pack was underway once again.  At this point, Andy (unnamed) got
lucky and shortcut a good 1/4 mile of trail, surprising Deep and Cum
Silent with his distant whistle-tooting.  While what was left of the
pack turned northward on the west side of the aqueduct and curved around
the neighborhood, topping a dike along the east edge of the eastern Twin
Lake, then back down, Andy (unnamed) followed a grassy throughway behind
a number of houses, sniffed out a wonderful DP with a secret trail in a
4 ft ditch, and negotiated his way across a single plank bridge to a
bike trail.  He then turned westward and twisted his way to a CB 17
which led him to within 15 meters of the finish.  Not satisfied, he ran
past the finish to a CB 7, which returned him near the finish.  He
dashed into the woods, stared directly at the treelike Deep, then turned
around to find another passage into the finish.  This he found, and,
while staring directly at Deep from another angle, was finally clued
into Deep's presence by Cum Silent crashing through the underbrush.  The
trio celebrated by watching the next group of hounds, including Turtle
(unnamed), Neil (unnamed), Cadaver Grabber, Jizz Whiz and Rob (unnamed),
hustle past the finish.  With Cock Gobbler, Freudian Slut and Cummy
Pinko arrived, the group assembled itself, and down-downs ensued.

Oh, did they ensue.  The 3 virgins drank.  The many returners drank. 
Everyone else drank.  The shitstud, when it finally arrived, was granted
to Router for some shitty or studly act, real or imagined, and too
unexceptional for this drunken halfmind to recall.  The Homer J Fong
remains with Puss in Boots, who was not present.  There were two namings
of note, both a "long" time in "coming".  Firstly, the halfmind formerly
known as Neil (unnamed), champion of such imagined acts as molesting 4
year olds on trail and such real acts as suggesting it would take 8
beers to get virgin Meg (unnamed) into bed with him, is to be referred
to as "Eager (Gets No) Beaver".  Secondly, the halfmind who took 10
hashes off to sleep her way across Egypt, Jess (unnamed), now prefers
the name "Walk Like An Erection".  Congratulations on losing your nerd
names.

We move to our winter schedule starting with the next hash, that being
Saturdays.  We'll start off with Cummy Pinko and Walk Like An Erection
on 10/14 at 3pm, somewhere in the vicinity of Broomfield.  After that, I
was planning on waiting 3 weeks and continuing hashing in November. 
(Unless, and this applies to many of you, you were thinking of playing
on my now bidless Fright Flight team and need something to do on
Saturday now.  I'd be willing to turn down an offer to play with another
team if we have enough support for the hash.)  We can have as many
hashes in November as we have willing hares, so think on whether or not
you'd be willing to try your hand at this.  Particularly if you're
named, but haven't hared yet.  (Eager, Gobbler, BlowsHis come to
mind...)

10/14 - Cummy Pinko & Walk Like An Erection
10/28 and/or 11/4  - ???
11/11 and/or 11/18 - ???
11/25 - Deep in the End & Discus Miniscus

On-on,
Deep