Walk In the Woods

            This being my second opportunity for a run-write-up, not only do I show up five minutes late, not only is the trail set through some very confusing woods, not only does it rain (again!) to muddle the flour on the trail, but we’re looking at a run that may live in infamy thanks to the long lasting effects some people have been unfortunate enough to be experiencing.  Frank set this week’s trail and the location was some random outcropping of grass on the side of Carmichael Road, near Coral Harbor – this could explain certain scribes being late.  As certain scribes drove up to the start, John Paul and Richard could be seen following various trails from the On-On, Richard carrying a large fish in hand as he ran.  The proper trail went into the woods, obviously, because where else would a fun-loving hare set a trail but the most difficult way?  I cannot speak for the rest of the group, but I was thoroughly lost about ten feet in as my eyes missed the not-quite obvious trail of flour; nor did it help when the rain began to fall.  The scribe was having a rough time of it.

            Eventually though, the trail was found as it wound its way through the woods, along ditches and streams, through the sharp and thorny bushes, and finally, after hearing the distant calls of the hounds ahead, back onto Carmichael Road where the trail continued eastward and the pack was just ahead.  Cutting into some residential roads, we found some vague trail markings and a box, hidden in plain sight, at least to those in front of the pack.  From there, it was only a short distance and two more check-ins until the On-In marker. 

            But while the trail was well laid and took an occasionally painful and blood-drawing turn through the woods, the lasting impression would not present itself until a bit later.  The hare warned that while he had not seen any when setting the trail, poison wood may have been lurking back in the woods and that should any symptoms arise, application of Joy (the dish-soap, not emotion) would rid the offended body.  Most people (read: I) forgot about this little aside until the next week (see next write-up: “The Best Hash Ever) when a handful of hashers arrived bearing some nasty looking cases of poison wood, claiming that Frank’s home remedy was bull****.  Has this tainted anyone’s view of the woods of Carmichael Road?  Who knows.  Has this tainted anyone’s view of Frank?  Time can only tell.