It was a most, ah, interesting hash. I’ve reconstructed the route we took, for those who missed the hash and those who would like, for whatever reason, to relive the experience. Click here to see the trail.

Without question, the conditions added to the experience. Temperature around 33, with rain all morning and early afternoon (but without the rain making so much as a dent in the ice-covered snowpack). But, the hare kept assuring us, the rain would stop about the time of the hash. And true to his word, the rain turned to sleet as we prepared to start, and so technically the hare was correct. And eventually, with something less than complete enthusiasm, we started.

Out of an apparent concern that constantly breaking through ice-covered snow might hurt our feet, within minutes of starting the hare kindly took us through a river crossing, thereby assuring that no one would have any feeling in their wet, frozen feet for the remaining 90 minutes of the run. After the river we quickly left the trail and began bushwhacking, not to see a trail again until the final 5 minutes of the hash. Given the rather unusual route, speculation was rampant that the hare had no idea where he was. (He later admitted that he only knew where he was twice–once when he left Bennett’s Pond, and the second time when he found it again.)

The pack did eventually manage to stumble back to the parking lot, and in spite of the freezing conditions, everyone seemed to finish with most of the fingers and toes they started with. We then retired to Chuck’s steak house and did the usual food and beverage thing, and sang the usual praises to the hare and other assorted sinners.