Aloha H3 Hash Trash #1810 – You Sank My Battleship!
November 8th, 2025
Hares: Tummy Sticks, Fee Fi Fo F*ck, & Peeter Beeter
Start: Waipio Soccer Complex,
So no shit, there we were!
It was a bright sunny day at the start of this hash! . . . Okay, that was a lie. It immediately started raining as hashers and virgins assembled for this fine Veterans Day hash. What do you expect when your RA is a Navy guy and we’re doing Navy shit? The kennel gathered ‘round in anticipation for the great trail that lay ahead. To our surprise, Cocktoberfest and his dad made a guest appearance to trail, as could be heard from a soccer field or two over. 😛
The GM called up the hares who offered nothing, but lies of blue skies, up hill climbs, and plenty of beautiful views. With that, the hares split off in different directions and the kennel pretended to give the hares the requested “15 minute” head start.
The kennel soon followed suit, dodging cars and looking for marks in unmowed gross and on roadsigns and light poles. Muggles obstructed the trail as far as the eye could see, with seemingly half the island decided to host their soccer game in Waipio this week.
After a while, the kennel found Fee, tucked away in a small sentry shack, offering beer and good tidings! After a short reprieve, the pack was ON OUT, and made their way down a crumbled roadway and onto a dirt trail, before surreptitiously sneaking through a ridiculously small hole in a fence, and back onto trail.. Many could be accused of blood on trail after this unpleasant obstacle. Idk, blame the government.
Along the way a lone Tummy Sticks could be found with beer and details to the extra credit check. Intrigued, Tummy offered the kennel a chance to go see the remains of LST 480 from the West Loch disaster. Of course, every true blue hasher decided to go take a peak!
Many hounds decided to doggy paddle out to, and some even onboard the LST. Kitty found himself perusing the inner hull of the ship, while others swam around and admired it from outside. Unexpectedly, White Boy took the opportunity to go head to head, or should we say, leg to shell, with some nasty sea barnacles, slicing his leg open and proclaiming the winning title of blood on trail.
After a quick triage and first aid, and perhaps a slap on the ass for good measure, White Boy was sent on his way, “TO THE TRIPLER ER!” and the kennel continued onward.
The shiggy soon lay before our brave hounds, as they made their way through untraveled grass and makeshift trails, finding small goodies and things along the way, before finally stumbling upon Peter Beater, deep in a trench a good 10 to 12 feet below trail. Hounds made their way down to enjoy a much needed beer check and quench their thirst.
Peter offered them two choices: Continue up and over to the trail above, or to continue onward through a spider laden tunnel.. While many considered the tunnel, wisely none opted to go through and instead went up over.
It was a short, windy distance back to civilization, as the sounds of glee and festivities could be heard from the parking lot. The hounds made it back to see a wonderful spread of delightful snacks and a dozen or so pizzas donated by Fee Fi herself. Mmmmm. Of course, it just so happened to start absolutely down-pouring, so hashers rushed to their cars to find umbrellas and other items to cover the food and pizza. #Priorities
Our handful of virgins were called forth and they all proclaimed to love the trail and promised to come back. With beer drank and full bellies, the hash enjoyed the festivities, accused one another of silly antics, awarded the hash shit, sang swin low, and left in peace!
ON-ON
🐜