Hash running was a popular activity at Butterworth. I tried
it – once. It was a memorable experience.
The idea is simple. First, find a suitable location – in this
case a rubber plantation. A trail is marked out by the organisers. At
Butterworth toilet paper was used for this purpose. Then the competitors follow
the paper trail to the finish line.
There is, however, an in-built obstacle. Every so often
there is a break in the trail and so runners fan out to find the next section,
which may in fact be a decoy. Whoever finds the start of the new section alerts
the group by calling ‘on, on’ and then everyone gives chase. It is so planned
that everyone has a chance of winning as the swiftest is not assured victory.
I have never been the athletic type. As a runner I am better
described as a plodder. Still, I didn’t let that dissuade me when invited to a
hash run in late 1971. After all, a bit of a run through the jungle could only
help my fitness and there was the promise of refreshments at the end.
So, after work one day, I climbed into the rear of a truck
along with a group of other enthusiastic Hash House Harriers for my new
adventure. All went well for a while. I plodded along the trail and continued
to pick up the new trail for a while with everyone else. But then it happened –
as we spread out to find the new trail I went in the wrong direction. I heard
the cry of ‘on, on’ and headed towards the sound but by the time I re-joined
the trail I was on my own. Not to worry, I could continue to follow the trail
and listen for the ‘on, ons’ up ahead. But by the time I got to the next break
everyone else had found the new start and headed off. So there I was in the middle
of a rubber plantation alone, trying to find the next section of the trail.
One clear memory I have is running down a steep hill with
the sun sinking slowly in the Western sky. I glanced down only to see a rather
large hole where I was about to place my foot. As I adjusted my step I lost
balance and reached out to tree to steady myself only to see this vine wrapped
around the tree with rather nasty looking spikes pointing upward. To this day I
don’t want to imagine what might have happened if my hand had slid down that
vine.
Fortunately I did not fall. By this time the ‘on, ons’ were
no longer heard. With no other living soul in sight I began to imagine what it
might be like to spend the night alone in a Malaysian rubber plantation and
what living creatures there may have been to threaten my very existence. But
there was nothing to worry about because I finally staggered across the
finishing line, just as everyone was packing up after exhausting the supply of
beer.
Now the main objective of the Hash run was to work up a
thirst. And at that point I could see no point in going through the thirst
raising part of the exercise if there was nothing at the end to quench the
thirst with. So I made the decision then and there that after a day’s work in
the tropical heat I had already done enough to work up a thirst and I did not
need to risk life and limb to quench it.
