RH3 #1113 Erin Go Bragh-less Hash
On one of the last winter mornings we all gathered by a patch of trees just beyond a quarry of despair. Car back rang out over and over.
Circle was formed. Hot for Teacher's virgin was introduced having been convinced to come out after a night of drinking. Smart choices!
The hares Stink Finger and Ricky Dobby gave us instructions (well some) and off we went. We all quickly ignored the clear false and On-On rang out along the valley. After a quick jaunt through a field we quickly reached the Beer-Shot-Near. Irish Car Bombs were drunk minus the curdling.
Trail was quickly picked up as we fought off Mother Natures brutal bid to blow us. After a bit of road pounding we were pleased to find Beer Near. The contents of a trash bag in the creek were procured. Old beer was drank and discussions of bad hash habits levied.
Onward into Mother Natures stiff breeze. Whats this? Two True Trail markings, no just too much to drink the night before. The Turkey and Eagle split was upon us. Most decided to console their previous nights actions by taking Turkey. A quick venture through the neighborhood. Four too drunk to read souls took to Eagle. The local neighbors yelled out encouragement and praise of their stupidity. A false was checked and Eagle quickly joined back up with Turkey.
More roads but this time with the wind at our assholes. Is that HHH in the distance? No one wanting to be DFL a slow sprint ensued. All were pleasantly rewarded with a suckle of Roids nipple. Circle was formed. The virgin was asked if she had learned anything, she had not. Her teacher was slacking. Many accusations were formed as too much beer (not enough?) was poured. Songs were sung and the hash came to an end.
On-Out
Just David
RH3 #1112: Your Comfort Is Our Primary Concern Hash
The Hash gathered on the shores of beautiful Antietam lake with some proudly displaying new hab that was not at all trademark infringement of a local brewery. Decoytis Interruptus provided instructions, we only half listened. Flamer and Roadkill assured us that the trail had been designed for our comfort and safety. Quickly we dispersed, and after several minutes of general confusion and silence “ON ONE” rang through the woods and off we went, the trail only went one way…Up, then up and then up some more.
Soon we found reprieve with the sound of “Beer Near” and fortified ourselves with glorious room temperature PBR. Off we went again and soon left the trail and found some shiggy, then shiggy with rocks, then shiggy in a swamp, then uphill and then uphill with shiggy and rocks. Some of us nearly lost shoes, others were beginning to lose our nerve when ‘Shot near’ was called out! We stood in the shadow of the mythical Mt. Penn beer vault (unsealed contrary to local news reporting) and drank comforting shots that would fuel us on the rest of our journey.
Some false trails were followed, but eventually we found the glorious HHH. Our reward was hoagies and more beer (some of which was brewed during the first Obama administration). We attempted to make a circle but were hindered by still more shiggy. Songs were song, accusations were had, announcements were made, and everyone swung low.
On Out
Just Brittni
RH3 #1111: Living on Easy Stroke Hash
A beautiful, pleasantly warm February afternoon greeted the half minds, as they met behind a Middle School in Western Berks County, meeting up with the hares, a doctor and a lawyer. It had all the ingredients for a wonderful afternoon.
Under the watchful eye of the school security cameras, about 30 half minds circled up, including Casting Couch’s virgin, to see the marks the hares had laid for us…on their Christmas tree board, so as to not leave any marks on school property. We were soon given a general erection out of the school property and into the neighborhood. After a short jaunt, the pack came around a corner, to find the hares, waiting for us, and the open back gate of a U-Haul. The pack all obediently climbed into the truck, and not one person asked a question about what exactly was happening.
Our dark ride quickly gave way to the reality that we were headed uphill. Long, winding turns led to a bumpy conclusion. As the door flew open, we exited the truck like migrants on a long journey to freedom. We found ourselves in the middle of the woods with a “Good Luck”, we were off.
We quickly came to a Turkey/Eagle split. The pack split into two, almost equal halves. The turkey trail was a short-ish, roughly 1/2 mile loop in the woods, returning us back to that fateful truck, where we were greeted with a beer, and some good news/bad news. While the turkey trail was shorter, we would load back into the truck and be dropped off farther down the trail. The turkey truck drop off led us right to the shot stop, where we were treated to a very festive holiday whiskey libation from Breast’s stash of goodies.
Meanwhile, on the Eagle trail we ran about a mile on a wooded trail and were quickly rewarded for our hard work with a nice cold beer. Had we made good choices? Then, down we went through some pretty fun trails and past a small body of water. We found a SN near a creek crossing but after hours of searching with no avail we finally moved on parched. We were met with some more ups and downs and then finally a paved road! It felt like we might have run all the way to Womelsdorf! But no we were back “safely” in Robesonia and saw some of our Turkey cohorts as we passed them on the way to Falco’s.
After trekking into the Robesonia borough limits, the Turkey group was first to arrive at the finest drinking establishment on 422, Falco’s Tavern, where cold pitchers of PBR and Miller Lite awaited. But this was only a BN, as the hares decided to wait for us there, and allow the entire pack to once again roam together.
A few minutes later, the Eagles began to arrive. The mystery of the missing SN was solved, as it was mistakenly taken with the Turkey tribe, so prevent any non-hashers from consuming the treasure.
After what seemed like an eternity, Legal Easy set out to finish the live haring of the trail. Meandering through alleys and side streets, we ended circle in the backyard of one of the hare’s friends. It takes a good friend to allow a large pack of half minds to consume beer and orange crunchy stuff, and sing vulgar songs on their property. And that’s just what we did!
On-On!
Peeter On A Skeeter and the Eagle-running ExCoGi
RH3 #1110: History Repeats Itself Hash
After an eventful morning full of accusation undertones of Type A runners marking a course on supposedly “fresh trails”, the Reading Hash House Harriers gathered in local MTB cruising spot…Bamba Lot. 30+ strong took time to introduce themselves as themselves or others and some pre-lube beers were finished and Hash Hab pint koozies were stored as hares, Foot Fairy and Horn Of Plenty, directed the group to general erection.
Quickly, everyone spread out searching for the first mark. On 1, On 2, and On 3 were called and the hunt for further trail was ON. A short distance later and the first BN was found as the group gathered on the side of the road. Beers were shared, stories were told, and on-out was had again. Through the woods and avoiding said fresh trails was successfully accomplished…who said hashers don’t listen? Round and round and round we went through twisting, winding, muddy, and quite frankly pointless trails. Where was the shiggy and the straight lines through the woods…on the plus side, we did find a SN of some sort of cinnamon whiskey. After watching Just Curtis and Stupid Brother hit the earth harder than Bukkake on a Saturday night, we made our way to Antietam Lake avoiding cars, hikers, and seemingly many other hashers who were to be found at the next BN. Up the worst driveway in Berks we went to Polly Has Tits’ house. Again, beers were shared, stories were told, and everyone took time to recover.
Down the driveway we went to the world’s largest Check. Up and up and up the road we traveled (many ran), until we reached the exaggerated HHH, marking the final resting spot of the 8th? annual Groundhog’s Day Hash. Songs were song, accusations were had, announcements were made, and everyone swung low.
On-out,
Stink Finger
RH3 #1109 Swipe Right Hash
Circling up, we learned that our hares One Knee Wonder and Just Mark met via a “right swipe”. Instructions were given, warnings levied and off we went. Deciphering week old flower from fresh powder the majority of the group followed the trail through Albright campus and up the hill to the base of Mt Penn where it wasn’t long until a very “Reading” cooler filled with refreshing Hamms. Pushing on we came upon very large flower arrows pointing up the hill into the woods. Comments were made about “they really wanted us to go this way” very quickly the trail disappeared. It is rumored that Deathwish may or may not have been the voice of reason to return to the last know check. It will continue to be debated but soon we were back on the white powder trail. Back into town we soon ended up along the tracks where a mixture of a white substance was now falling from the skies and a second black trash bag cache was located along with our hares. Pressing on we encountered a young security guard “just doing his duty” and a few hashers who had opted to hash the trail from a Marie’s barstool. “Smarter not harder” is a phrase that comes to mind. HHH’s were found; circle formed songs were sung & accusations made. The skies showered us with a wet ending. Off to Shirley’s for food and drinks.
Just Curtis
RH3 #1108 Farewell to the Taproom Hash
When I was but a lad of 12, my parents took me on a ride on one of the last passenger rail rides from Reading to Philadelphia. I couldn’t appreciate it at the time, but they were encouraging me to experience a part of what it meant to live in Reading – something iconic, but also something soon to be a thing of the past.
For those who have lived and worked in Reading for the past 40 years, the NorthEast Tap Room was a similar iconic experience that is – unfortunately -- also now a thing of the past.
Everyone has their own Tap Room story, and we could make this trash all about those… but let’s talk about what the Tap Room meant to the hash. For those of you old enough to remember what an answering machine is/was, the back closet at the Tap Room once hosted the “Hash Hotline”. Instead of receiving an email or a Facebook notification about the where/when of the next hash, you’d call a phone number, and in the week prior to the hash, the hare (or trailmaster) would visit the Tap Room and record the who/what/where/when of the next hash event.
In those years (let’s call them the ‘Pete’ years) you could find a framed printed hash trash written by our very own Bad Semen for the “Hill Street Brews” hash – the hash where Dogbreath (aka ‘Santa Dog’) was named. The Tap Room was host to various Hash events – from beer checks and apres to (in recent years) Mis-Spelling bees and Beer Wars.
And all the while, the beat of time went on, and the Tap Room didn’t much change as evolve over time. Unfortunately the era of neighborhood bars has changed – A bar that has a well-stocked cooler and eclectic beers on tap is not the oddity that it was 25 years ago, and patrons are more concerned with where they’re going to find a secure parking spot than a pint of Old Peculiar or a bottle of Corsendonk.
And so it was on a cold and blustery afternoon that the hash met to give the old girl a proper sending off. Our hares, Casting Couch, ExCoGi, and Bukkake met us in the parking lot of Northeast Middle School with fresh 30-packs of Hamms. A pack of (eventually) about 28 hashers joined them including a visitor from Pittsburgh and a new boot, and then headed off into the city for a hashy good time.
The hares promised some new checks -including a leapfrog check, a salmon check, and a naughty check. Those were all dispensed of in/around the Albright campus, before we headed up through the rapey woods behind the campus in search of beer, shiggy, and whatever detritus we could find. Crossing Hampden by the old Elks Club, we found instead the hares with a beer check. From there the pack headed South– some mistakenly went up the hill into the woods to find the circle at a pavilion paved with glass shards and used condoms.
The wise among us headed back down to our cars and made for the warm confines of the Tap Room. There we found some of the olds (Swamp, Flamer) who were too wise to hash when a warm room with cold beer was an option, and we were joined by some autohashers and bike hashers all there to honor the last day of the Tap Room. The hares were kind enough to buy us 13 pizzas, plus some apps and cupcakes. Glasses were raised, stories were told, and cash went flying across the bartop with the rapidity of the Los Angeles River sucking trash into the ocean.
So. Goodbye to the Tap Room. Goodbye to an institution that has been there for generations. We now focus on what’s next. Maybe not what’s next for the NETR, but what’s next for Reading, and the Hashers that call it home. We will have our downtown divebars (Tophers, Nicks etc) and we still have our suburban hash houses (Liberty, etc) but where do we find a place that’s as warm and comfortable as the Tap Room. Not sure that place is out there quite yet, but we have a good model to start from.
Thanks to the hares (Couch, Excogi, and Bukkake) for a good trail and for great memories.
ON-ON
Decoy
RH3 #1107 New Year’s Hash
Out with 2022 and in with 2023. Started out a beautiful warm day and as soon as it was time to hash it became cold and breezy. But at least no rain, way to go toh! Opto started circle and thennnn Just Karin and Toh were hares so off they went to do their live trail while we froze our underdressed asses off. I remember went through some neighborhoods then up a stupidly long winding up hill with some goats to the witches hat where we were blessed with champagne, I had two glasses because champagne is my jam. But I hate jam… anyway, from there we ran some trails to the bottom where we found the HHH! Down downs were had, some accusations were made, it was a small and quaint mellow circle likely due to festivities the evening prior. Thennnn we were off to Apre at Liberty taproom and here they had a neighborhood discount on shots… Beer and pizza were had and eagles were watched andddd our very own hare Just Karin became forever known as Nut Nibbler as she downed some kind of strong beer/cider thing like a champ. She was feeling herself that day. Happy new years fuckers. Better late than never…
on-on,
Delicious Head
RH3 #1106 / Rogue North #61
Trinity and Beulah came together to offer a Rogue North/ Reading HHH trail. It was a day meant for laying on the couch and tending to the hangover that Santa delivered the night before at the Santa Fucks the Hash. Instead a few of us eager beavers put our hangover aside and showed up ready to damage the liver all over again. And damage the liver we did. Did I mention it was cold and wet. It seemed like Tofu should have been haring.
After chalk talk, where three marks were familiar to RH3 and 84 other marks were Rogue North approved, trail set off towards the hospital.
The type A who wanted to warm up took the eagle trail. The Turkey trail went right down Penn Ave to the row of warm bars and restaurants. After hitting a back check 3,069 the Eagle group found the turkeys in Barley Mow. This wasn’t even a beer near, but just the first bar that trail ventured near, the first of several that we hit along Penn Ave. There were photo stops, fire company stops and sightings of little Fudgie at the Spruce, another non BN that necessitated a stop. Eventually we found our way back to the Sly Fox parking lot for circle. Fun and hilarity ensued. Thanks to the North for the hand warmers and company of Yolanda!!
Optopussy
RH3 #1105 Santa F*cks The Hash
After pissing on us the night before, Santa returned for our annual f*cking, courtesy of NFB and Dog Breath. A large group of half minds gathered on a bright, sunny, brisk December day, at the vast field next to Trooper Thorns. We had some visitors from the North in town for a triple header weekend. And our hare provided us with some great new cranium hab for the occasion. After a few quick instructions, we were off!
It only took a block for the entire pack to struggle to find marks, but we soon stumbled upon a check, sending us down towards the railroad tracks and Alvernia. Passing through the baseball field, the pack arrived at a parking lot and everyone searching for marks. An indoor track meet inside the building, led to track participants milling about outside the door, encouraging the half minds to “get after it” and “keep going”, completely unaware of the debauchery. Each successive check led to more aimless searching as we wound our way through the Alvernia campus, the flour changing colors with each check. As we continued through Saint Mary Cemetery and headed towards Oakbrook, the pack began to stir. Would we be stopping at the Little Brown Jug for a much needed BN? As the pack approached, a young lady employed by the fine establishment was outside the door, prompting Decoy to ask “Are you expecting us?” The wide-eyed look on her face told us everything we needed to know. We continued on, headed towards Berks Catholic High School. Trail took us down the power lines, and into thick shiggy, right to a vertical drop onto the railroad tracks below. The pack slowly descended down the steep slippery hillside. Hash horns went flying. The hash brick came careening down the hill, after an urgent “Look out!” shouted by Down In Front. I didn’t have “getting hit by a flying brick” on my hash bingo card for the day, but every hare loves when there’s some blood on their trail. After crossing the tracks, we stumbled upon (finally) a Beverage Near, with some warm, spiked apple cider. After warming up and gathering the pack, we headed straight back the SRT to our beginning point, where we circled up and did our down downs and our songs, before heading to DeCarlo’s, for Santa’s arrival. Laps were sat on, gayly wrapped gifts were open, car bombs were ordered and much to the horror of the birthday party booked on the other side of the bar, songs were sung.
Merry Hashmas!
Peeter on a Skeeter
RH3 #1104 Here Pisses Santa Hash
Livin’ it Up,
Just Karin
Free beer for all the hashers! Jesus saves! Jesus saves! Jesus saves! There was no foam. No inappropriate touching. No pulsating bodies covered in fluorescent paint. It was clean. Very clean. So clean, in fact, Dancing Fool found very little and I actually got to chat with him a bit. Happy birthday to his mom!! ( I believe he said 100! ) At the first beer check, I noticed Choo Choo and myself are both wearing top notch double entendre shirts that screamed for a hash flash. ( speaking of hash flash….whatever happened to Not Twat?) Off the pack goes to more uphills and down to our next beer near. We are positive the hares did not lay this trail. Is there a rent-a-hare company we weren’t told about? We then head back to the HHH, sang some songs, celebrated birthdays and analversaries, made the accused drink it down down down down, sang Swing Low, then followed up this shitty trail at Cocalico Tavern. 
RH3 #1084 The Old Fashioned Hash, pt. 3
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