Aloha H3 Hash Trash #1806
๏น๐๏น “Navy “Birthday Trail” ๏น๐๏น
October 12th, 2025
Hares: Catcher In The Thighs, Just Gabby, Peter Beater Ant Feeder, Nasty Gash, Princess Footlong
So no shit, there we were!
Another FINE NAVY DAY out on the water. The kennel gathered in port, ready to shift colors and get underway. Our Lead Party Officer Catcher knew the mission and understood that we’d be working with joint and โspecialโ forces.. so he laid out the Plan of the Day (POD) in extra large font, that way them Army folks could at least make an attempt at reading them. Thankfully, the Marines had not yet made it to muster, seen having rendezvoused on another beach, otherwise the lack of Crayola may have posed a real issue 
.Talk about Risk Management.
After a short quarters, The Senior Chief RA gathered the crew to set sail. Anchors & Hares Aweigh; some hares dashing off starboard side while others went port.
T-13.
Sea and Anchor detail was mustered and the kennel engaged in ample skylarking, sharing scuttlebutt and, in true Navy fashion, minimizing exposure to PT and the gold of God’s great sun. 
T-10.
Devil Dog PI was spotted near Pier 69, making his way to the rally point without a map or compass. Though, by the looks of things, he may have had a k-bar in his pants 
. We didn’t check. Just remember, M.A.R.I.N.E. stands for “Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Expected.” Though rumor is, he did finally find his way to circle. So, we give him an “A” for effort. 
T-1.
Pack away! The hounds took off like a scene out of Bay Watch or a new BUDS class, slowly and awkwardly running down what felt like miles of soft sand, doing everything they could to keep their feet dry. But it would be in vain. The hares promised wet and sandy, and they sure did deliver! 
The first beer check 
was manned by Nasty Gash and Princess Footlong, who presented cold beers and a submarine challenge, offering to bestow the โsubmarine specialistโ (SS) title to anyone who could drink a shot of fireball and hold their breath for 69 seconds 
.
But alas, none in the group had the lung capacity to rival even the greenest Seaman. Dirty slimy WOGS and lazy land lubbers, none worthy enough to qualify for submarine service. Perhaps Princess would be willing to provide remedial training in the art of going down later โ but there was no time for that now! Want to know more? Contact your local recruiter 
.
At this point Nasty gave the pack a choice. Put your sea legs to the test and swim down the river bank, infiltrating covertly up Pier 69, or back track down the beach and punch out along the roadside โ taking the direct approach. Hashers split off, some electing to stay dry while others decided to try their hand at some special operations hashing.
From Pier 69 the pack regrouped and reengaged the trail. CONTACT! A fishhook snagged its first (posthumously named OSCAR) victim #ManOverboard 
. At this point, paranoia set in having no idea how many more were out there.. and so set in the fog of war. But, these brave sea dogs sailed on.
They found their way to the trail head and prepared for heavy rolls. It was time to put their cardio endurance to the test, making their way up steer inclines, frictionless dry surfaces, and using rope assists to get to the first beer check atop crouching lion 
, a mere 36 fathoms above the trail head. The pack gathered and rested, breathless and glistening in sweat โ enjoying fresh cold beers provided by Catcher and Just Gabby while taking in the ocean view. 
Scuttlebutt of another beer check circulated, with half-minded intelligence suggesting the existence of another beer check atop the next ridge 
. The pack debated, some desperately wanting to cut their sea pay short and return to homeport, while others were locked in ready to push deeper into enemy territory.
And so, they cut loose the mooring lines 
and called out All Ahead Flank! Peter Beater stood aft lookout at Beer Check #3, watching these motivated scalawags put forth their best effort in search of another beer and higher glory. 
In typical fashion, Kitty was the first to claim glory, followed by a handful of other vibrantly enthused and breathless hounds. It was a gorgeous view, overlooking the way, with enough beer for some to have seconds and thirds (including Peter Beater who was really taking the whole “Drink to the Foam” seriously).. What do you do with a drunken Sailor, anyway?
Kitty then announced ON UP! . . . wait, what? Declaring that he was going to scout a few peaks higher than mission required.. and into uncharted territory he went. Just Matt, not willing to be outdone, soon followed after him, without a map, without a crew, and without a clue. 
As the hounds decided to make their way down trail, daring heavy descents and rope climbs down, Peter Beater cracked open another beer for himself and made an ice castle where he stashed 2 beers 
for Kitty and Just Matt โ should they return, gave them a crisp salute 
, and made his way back to home port, regrouping with the strike group of hounds at the trail head, executing an impromptu underway drink replenishment, and enjoying one himself for a job โ well โ done.
Exfil was waiting for the drunken Sailor, who loaded not only his own gear, but one exhausted Senior Chief RA in the back. 
Back at circle, debauchery had already begun to ensue, with gayful celebration, beer on the pier, and a new appreciation for Sailors! 
GO NAVY! 
Princess Footlong revealed her new patch and patch challenge! One that actually takes some real effort; eating a fruit-by-the-foot rollup without using your hands and drinking a seltzer in 69 seconds. Seriously โ good luck!
At the start of circle, the Centurions inaugurated another Centurion into their midst, Taco Tuesday who was streamered by none other than Titless! Much rejoicing!
Just Millie was called forth, questioned, and named “$5 FootMom”, then officially recognized as a member of the Aloha H3 with her green streamer!
Just Shawn was also called forth. Many fantastic names were discussed from his elaborate and hilarious stories, to include โTijuana Finger Meโ and โMexi-HO Fingered My Buttholeโ, but none were good enough as “Just The Problem”!
Our After Action Report suggested that todayโs trail was not wet enough, did not have enough up, not enough ropes, and had superb start directions and cell service. Safety debrief was short as there were very few injuries, casualties, or near misses, aside from one of Just Matt getting a small shiggy scrape on his ankle. Sounds like a reason to buy shiggy socks to us! Mission accomplished.
Then it was time for the Hash Shit 
. Several members were called into circle, including Just the Problem who had added a baseball bat that he drank out of, but none called in were more egregious than Catcher in the Thighs, who decided to Blue Falcon his coHares on the preLay, making sure they got unnecessarily wet before doing trail ; and so the Hash Shit found a new home!
ON-ON