Saturday: we were ready for the task. The sun shone and the heat was unrelenting. We knew the job had to be done. We were the only ones who could do it. We parked the vehicles and set off with our survival kit. Our first path was blocked. Someone knew we were coming! A quick change of route and on we went. Very soon we realised the terrain did not match the map. We were lost!! Had they tampered with the map? A long haul in a hostile enviroment (the nettles were vicious) and we were back at base. We set off again along the treacherous paths. They had moved a path, but we were too clever for them, we found it. After many hours our mission had been accomplished. It was only left now for us to wonder if our trusted team would be able to find the clues we had left behind.

Monday evening and the team assembled. A few needed a special liquid before tackling the arduous assigment that lay before them. The first catastrophe happened within seconds. The team all went towards the ford. Retracing their steps they found the trail led to the crossroads. It went dead. The FBRs went ahead. They found the tell-tale white powder. By this time we had lost one member of the team. Where was she? There was no time to back for her. Up a very long hill. The sign at the top was clear. But the FBRs had fogotten the rules? Two members decided to opt out! Three down! This was not good. On to another long uphill stretch. The FBRs halted. Were they lost? No they had actually read the sign given by the white powder. The right route was found and it was down a lane, across a field and on to the edge of a village. "Where are we?" I was asked. I could not say. (I hadn't a clue where we were). By this time it was getting dark. Would they make it back to base before nightfall? It looked doubtful. The FBRs went ahead completely flouting all known rules. (What rules? I can hear you ask.) The last of the team reached the road. "Thank goodness we are nearly there" said one. But this was not a task for the faint hearted, there was still one and a half miles to go. The night was closing in. Finally the sign of the safe house was seen and the team was back.

Was this the longest hash of 2002. No, I don't think so. Pecker's shoe-measuring device showed it to be 4.9 miles. It had too many long, straight paths. Well, Shaggy solved that one by running diagonally across the fields. It had too many uphills. For every uphill there is a downhill. I not sure that the length of the run outstripped the length of the circle. There were 'down-downs' for short-cutting, property that had been found before it had been lost, birthdays and conspicious events, but I was too worn out to take note of them all. The hashit and the dress were given to the hares. Bit unfair I thought as you were given some really splendiferous views of the Bedfordshire countryside, if you had time to look at them.

ON-ON White Rabbit and Bell End