BushWoman and Lord Lucan goes to the beach.
An eager pack gathered at Ban Chang to partake of Bush Woman and Lord Lucan's Surf & Sand adventure. At 1400, GI Joe called the circle to order, recognizing visitors, virgins and new shoes. After cool and clear libations, he invited our Hares to explain the afternoon's scheduled debauchery. Lord Lucan kindly noted the trail would be marked with red paper (currently pink) and 360degree checks and F.T.'s would be in blue. Failing to give warnings of high speed traffic, wind-whipped brush fires, startled bullocks, raging surf, razor sharp barbed wire and barnacle encrusted barges, he then shucked his Jesus-sandals and outsprinted the pack to where a waiting fire truck marked beginning of trail.
It only took the pack two checks to realize LL had scouted trail with a carton of Marlboro's up his sleeve.we just followed the butts and cinders to the next intersection. If you were in deep shiggy and not running on embers, you were off trail. The first time the pack deviated from this scorched earth policy, they were led over a short rise and through a visual brush barrier to confront one of Thailand 's much feared 'Staked Bullocks'. I was fearing for my life as I watched the whites of his eyes grow, his mouth foam and front hoof start the gored-matador dance. It was only the alluring scent of our Canadian visitor coming over the rise, changing bovine furor to bestial amour, that saved me from a poking. Not sure if Miss Toronto got her poking - I was too busy backing down the trail.
Knob Marley got the scent of the ocean in his nostrils at the fourth check and decided to heed the advice of "go west young man." Ignoring calls of on-back, he loped to the A-site cliff face and recovered his carefully stashed climbing gear. He rappelled swiftly down the shear cliff-face and into the waiting fish farm. His intuition and planning earned him FRB status and ensured he had the first cold beer down well before the clueless trail runners trickled in. GI Joe and V.V. were indecisive (not having any abseiling gear) about which way to go, so decided to roam around this check for 20 minutes, searching for an FT marking rather than true trail.
It shouldn't have taken a haruspex to read the blackened canine remains preceding the final check - the entrails forecast confusion. The final check led Up and Down Dick to chase Lynxx straight to the beach, hoping to get that deep sand workout he has heard the Special Boat Service bubba's rave about. TouchMyStuff broke right, hoping for another jaunt along a canal and to avoid that deep sand workout he has heard the SEALs bitch about. Lynxx, as the hash horn, finally got the hang of blowing a small mouthpiece and lured the rest of the pack onto true entrails and an extra 600 yards of paper. In spite of her poor decision to follow true trail to the sand and to clamber high on the rocky spit rather than stay low and brave the salty Gulf of Siam , Lynxx mustered enough speed to make her mark as First Beaatch In [FBI].
The rest of the pack trickled in over the 15 minutes, with the only comment of note being Dizzy proclaiming Really Sadistic Bastard to look exactly like GIJoe.he was probably confused by the senior citizen headband, florid melon and RSB finishing well up in the pack.
Hobbit did what he could to blame the hares, the committee, President Bush; but his 5 minute tardy start resulted in a 60minute delay on trail and this week's recognition as DeadFreakin'Last. It might be time to trade the sun-dial in for a Timex.
I want to thank Lord Lucan and BushWoman for a great A-site, trail and festivities; definitely the best of the year (to date).
On On! Touch My Stuff
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