Run No. 89?

Hare; Iron Lady.

Location: La Napoule

Scribe; Percy Veere

Not long to go now…………………

Maybe that is why our Religious Adviser and his deputy were not in attendance. They have jumped ship in advance of the Brexit. However, Padre stayed behind administer proceedings in his usual, ineffable, calm manner and  asked if anyone wanted to stand in to assume the huge responsibility and was met by a deafening silence.

The weather forecast was for overcast skies, and rain after midday, which was a shame after the glorious weather we had been experiencing all week. The Iris and Daffodils were in bloom in the more sheltered locations and Willie Wordsworth’s famous poem sprang to mind as I was contemplating a serious cloud like wandering in the beautiful Esterel.

Now that appears as if the the worst of the winter weather has past my friend in Monaco as asked if I know anyone who would like to buy a secondhand snow plough.

Went out yesterday and got a new car for the wife.
For my first attempt I thought that was pretty good bartering.

Iron Lady was taking inspiration from all the colourful marking on the surrounding roads, (See Sadist’s offering of his biased account of what transpired with the L.W.B, section of the trail.)  and proceeded to outdo them with a comprehensive illustration of all the hieroglyphics and marks we might be experiencingdepending on which trail the participants decided to follow.

Applying Perpetual Motion’s famous 7 p’s, Iron Lady started her introductory spiel early and the run started bang on time, (Greenwich Mean Time + 1.  FU EU) with the runners making their way down to the beach with the Walkers left behind for some special last minute instructions.

Where was I………ah yes, runners down towards the beach and the first, direction change, opportunity. Where to go, where, bloody hell, where………..eventually discovered the faint, red, chalk mark, arrow which had been peed nearly into oblivion by a multitude of passing canine piss depositors.

Just ‘cos he look innocent does not mean he is !

We head West along the coastal path towards Theoule where I was expecting to see this sign………….

Brought tears to my eyes just thinking about it. No, not what you were thinking, it was just beautiful. It would have looked much better if the people in the water were only wearing their bikini bottoms though. Not sure exactly what they were doing, but it looked like running on the spot to me and why where they all wearing wet T- shirts?

Around the bay, up then to cliff tops and then down again to Port La Rague at sea level.The only way is up………

Inland now, up the valley until the first trail choice of continue, or take the mule track up to the top of the Col. A quick Tango back and forth and no trail is found and so we all decide to continue up the valley as the logical choice,plus some inside knowledge.

Eventually we locate flour, much to the relief of all concerned and we continue on our merry way.

A beautiful meander through the valley past the old dormitory block, and disused wreck of a church of some denominationor other, and the old Fluorite quarry with a few random checks to slow the progress of the Pilgrims until we reach the junction with the main Mandelieu to Les Adrett road.

No way are we going up the hill away from where the beer should be. And so it proved but only after a big S about a km. in length. and then back towards the cemetery and a much needed beer and refreshments.

Ignore the ‘best before date’ labels on garlic bread…It’s pretty much the worst thing to eat before a date.

Refreshments over and the runners set off early as Iron Lady had not finished with the sight seeing tour. We now head around the slope 
and up the side until we have what would have been a beautiful view over the bay if it was not for the low flying cloud. View stop quickly over and then up to the top of the volcano and the other spectacular view over the bay of Cannes and the airport at Mandelieu just in time to look down on a plane coming in to land.

Then back down to pick up the in-trail with a gentle run through the village and into the car park.

Down Downs were earned by…(But not limited to, as I do not have a list and my memory is somewhat lacking in spare brain cells to bang together.)

  • Hare; Iron Lady
  • Returner; Procul, Drag Anchor
  • Car Dealing; Ball Bare-ing
  • Disrupting E.U. Solidarity; The Italians, something to do with a diplomatic spat, I think,  Iron Lady and The Duchess of Cambridge.
  • Lost Property; Buns
  • No Club Mugs; Procul and ???
  • Not Talking in the circle. A first ! Drag Anchor.
  • Sheep Shagging; Iron Lady

The circle was then closed.

Farty Bum immediately wanted to know why there was no, “Shit Of The Week,” awarded. It was explain that the decision was made because we did not have the paraphernalia.

The question of, who then, was responsible for this deviation from Hash protocol was asked.

Surprise, surprise……….. Farty Bum.

I think she was feeling a bit left out and only wanted her customary Down Down, which therefore, was duly administered.

Then off to the nearby restaurant to a well deserved, sumptuous, calorific stuffing as the gentle rain started to fall.The R.A. has not lost his powers despite not having used them for some time.

Who said, “I have not had sex for so long some times I go running in flip flops, just to remember what it sounds like! “

And now the Walkers View….

The Rosetta Stone which was discovered by the French and is now preserved for posterity in the British Museum ( we are not giving it back), enabled the decipherment of Egyptian hieroglyphs; Iron Lady wrote her own hieroglyphs on the trail and gave her Rosetta stone explanation on the ground at the start of the run; but apart from BS I cannot recall what these runes symbolized. She had also advised a dress code for the run being a choice of pigs, bees, hearts or mimosa. Wetsuits would have been more appropriate for the swimming opportunity at the sandy La Napoule beach. None of us was suitably attired; not so a group of nymphs frolicking in the surf. As we went up the path over the cliffs this wetsuited group seemed to be running on a hash of their own following a trail which led them into the sea at the next beach- not sure how they laid the trail over the water. Anyway Sir Philip Green would have had a £1m bottom slapping opportunity as these attractive ladies went past us in their figure-hugging neoprene.

Which way to go? down the rabbit hole?
Regroups were necessary as all signs pointed in confusing directions.

After a while we got used to the reverse flow and went up and around the old San Peyre volcano to the cemetery where Iron Lady had chosen to position the beerstop car. It was quite a while before we were joined by the runners who had been doing their own 8k thing elsewhere. We were not joined by any dead sprits who must have been enjoying their own ambrosia in the Elysian Fields while we supped earthly brews in the damp and cold.

So it was a short walk down the road back to the start.

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