Flatlanders,

For those of you who weren't even there, be thankful.  This was the most
brazen and heinous (hy-A-nus) concoction ever to disgrace this
disorganization in its brief history, and that is not meant as a challenge
to Blowsis or the Beav.  Flatlander trails must not start at one end of
Boulder and end at the other, unless a bus ride is involved.  Furthermore,
while the occasional hummock will be grudgingly tolerated, a mesa is
neither hummock nor hill, and thus is inappropriate Flatlander topography,
so far as ascending one is concerned (descension is another matter).  That
said, let the story begin.

Deep arrived at Bear Creek Elementary 90 minutes late, or 45 minutes past
hash time, having wasted most of his afternoon wrangling with an eccentric
chain-smoking techie with pornographic arm tattooes.  He set off slightly
uphill to the west, following numerous carefully scribed Freudian pack
arrows into the posh Devil's Thumb subdivision.  He was initially confused
by an elongated and liberal turn on powder into open space, but found his
way around the base of Table Mesa in due time.  The trail continued
without DP for a goodly distance, which was to be a theme reiterated
throughout the rest of the abomination.  Near Table Mesa Rd, another
one-over-two-up turn on powder led into deep shiggy to a TT arrow across
Table Mesa Rd, then down into more open space.  The trail flirted with
pavement for a moment, then jumped back into the shiggy to a CB to deeper
shiggy.  After snaking up into the gap between Table and Enchanted (ment?
who cares?) Mesas on a narrow dirt path, the trail suddenly and
inexplicably plunged into the deepest shiggy yet with a rogue TT arrow.
Deep skipped the shiggy initially, sniffing to within 20 feet of powder,
but eventually returned to attempt to ferret out the trail.  This section
of shiggy under Enchanted Mesa was absurd, something never to be repeated.
It turns out that the hares watched the pack collect itself in utter
confusion, then taunted them with a few whistle blows and a dance, before
taking off, but Deep had no such aid, nor any pack arrows in the rough.
So he experienced the unevenly spaced, hidden, and randomly turning
powders firsthand, spending 45 minutes with them before taking one last
stab at guessing the trail continuation before heading back to his truck.
This last desperate measure put him back on trail, which led up the path
to Enchanted Mesa a way, then turned, with a huge TT arrow, STRAIGHT UP
the mesa.  Expecting beer near, Deep summitted the mesa, only to find a
network of powder trails and a small rock with unintelligable hound
scrawlings all over it.  More confusion, then Deep finally found his way
off the promontory, just as the sun's last pink rays were being
extinguished behind Flagstaff.  Mt Hood's pack arrows abounded, along with
the occasional scratch mark in the dirt, and Deep descended into the
neighborhood around Chataqua.  A long straight trail with a few TOPs and
even fewer DPs directed Deep to the start of BFHHH #35, then up and around
and over and through and finally to a beer... check?!  at a well-known
ultimate couple's place on Lincoln.  Deep grunted a few times, drained a
cup of apple juice, and proceeded down Lincoln, over College to 9th, then
down to Arapahoe, on counsel from an anonymous informant.  He picked up
the Creek Path and continued west to Eben Fine park, where a lack of light
or down-downs brought him consternation.  He did manage to find powder and
what might have been a map, then more powder, and a climb up onto
Arapahoe, where he finally heard the unmistakable sound of Blowsis
wailing.  Led by the siren song, Deep found his nectar, and down-downs
continued.

In the circle, Deep found a virgin, Jeff (unnamed), and three Boulder Hash
regulars, Sinbad, Poopa Troopa and Chucky (E?) Cheeks, along with Hairy
Rim, Freudian, Half Cocked, Shit, Chacockua, Dan (unnamed), Allison
(unnamed - we'll remedy that), Port, Blowsis, and the Beav, and quite
possibly some others I couldn't see in the dark.  The award went to
Blowsis, after having a stone of shame attached by Hood, who left us
without religion so he could seek Peruvian practice on Long's Peak (that's
a peak, not a halfmind).  There were no namings while I was there, but ale
was consumed at a furious pace.  On-afters were rumored to have taken
place at Hash House I, but after 6+ miles and an equal number of beers, I
was done for the night.

Next hash in 3 weeks, hared by Deep and Joel (unnamed) in Westminster,
details forthcoming.

On-on,
Deep