Howdy hashers,

We gathered at the Safeway in Golden on a pleasantly mild afternoon,
right on ultimate time.  The hares (Dr. Dripdick and Freudian Slut) took
off down a street to the north, and when Mt. Hood showed up at the
12-minute mark, he rounded out the pack at a perfect dozen, and we set
out on trail.  We were led through downtown Golden, such as it is, with
map and countback, and began to climb the long low hill back up to the
Mines campus to the south.  This is where my account of the trail may
not represent the pack's experience, as I took a horrible gamble and
shortcut up toward Rte 6 and on top of a rather large hill.  The rest of
the pack went two more powders to the CB 19, while I made an enormous
mile+ loop which returned me to... the Safeway where we started. 
Nevertheless, I completed my circuit tour of Golden and got back on
trail where I left it.  At this point, the trail jumped Clear Creek and
turned sharply toward Rte 6 and the foothills.  Little did I know that
as I was cursing out the pack for using few pack arrows and leaving me
to fall into the same traps they had sniffed out already, running up
sidewalks, into gullies, over pedestrian overpasses, and nearly getting
creamed jogging across Rte 6 itself just south of the canyon, the pack
was lounging at a beer check HIGH on the HILL overlooking the entire
area, laughing its ass off.  I've put emphasis on "high" and "hill",
since this was where the trail became less a Flatlander route than some
sort of whacked out, protein-bar munching, spandex and smoked sunglass
wearing singletrack slog up to the big "M" you see high up on Lookout
Mtn.  We're still trying to figure out what the hell the hares were
thinking with their combined 2 halves of a brain.  Naturally, they were
made to drink for forcing Jason (unnamed), Cummy Pinko and I to shortcut
through private property, where we were verbally assaulted, in order to
avoid the senseless climbing of a rather large hill.  We met Nat
(unnamed) on his way down the thing, and from his horrid accounts of the
experience, we realized we had narrowly dodged an abomination.  Another
5 or 6 miles of up and down put us in a sound-insulated quarry, which
was ideal for the festivities which followed.  Downdowns were glorious,
with no less intensity for the somewhat smaller size of the group, and
we had two namings to note.  The one formerly known as Julie Work is now
referred to as Cock Gobbler, while the tall fellow with unmatched socks
you might have called Ethan Gutmann shall henceforth be addressed as
Mount Hood.  I remain a hashing infant with no name.

Overall, a great trail with one brutal lapse of judgement.  Next hash is
tentatively scheduled for Sat April 29, to be hared by the brothers
McDonald (unnamed), with consultation by Mt. Hood.  Those of you who
didn't make it over to Steve's (unnamed) party missed out on a spirited
evening of knuckle-bruising "Battleships".

-Tyson (unnamed)