R*n 919: Sandside

A hardy pack gathered at the ghost of a pub formerly known as The Ship in Sandside, staring gloomily at skies that looked ready to reenact Noah's Big Weekend. The hares had promised "a scenic trot," but the weather gods instead served up horizontal rain, ankle-deep shiggy, and several unplanned opportunities for cold-water therapy.

Within minutes we were wading through flooded fields, splashing, slipping, and muttering darkly about life choices. Spirits remained high, though mostly because they couldn't sink any lower without scuba gear.

Large Package stormed in late, looking innocent and hoping not to be noticed — a rookie mistake. Naturally, he was immediately volunteered to do the write-up as punishment.

Meanwhile, the eternal mystery of Dierdre's hash handle remains unsolved. Suggestions were made, rejected, mocked, and ceremonially drowned in floodwater. The saga continues.

Mid-run drama arrived in the shape of Sir Tom Tom, who heroically shed the sole of one boot. Undeterred, he soldiered on with one good boot and one flappy leather sock, proving once and for all that hashing is 10% fitness, 90% stubbornness.

After surviving lakes, rivers, and at least one angry goose, the pack finally splashed into a completely new On Inn: the Roads and Rivers Coffee Shop. Despite the soggy state of the clientele, they provided excellent grub, warming drinks, and no visible signs of regret at letting us in. A smashing end to a soaking wet wander.