Beaver Pre-Pre-Prelube

What: Beaver Marathon Prelube

Who: E=IMaDouch, Salty Mudflaps

Where: Alewife reservation

Who: Um, maybe the largest beaver pack ever?

Pre-lube:

Was at a weird amphitheatre under one of the most beautiful sunsets of the year a hundred yards or so down the Fitchburg bike path extension from Alewife. Quick note on getting there; rougly an hour before trial, Douche posted to the failbooks asking if anyone had chalk and could mark the trail to the start from the station; he had run out of flour marking trail from the road to the start, since so many people were driving...anyway...back to the prelube.

We were standing around in an ever growing circle as more and more visitors, and beavers, and boston hashers kept on showing up. There was a near constant stream of texts between people there and people not there asking if pack was away, or if people could send them beer check locations; but the answer was inevitably, nope we’re still here, still drinking.

A quick note on drinking, there were ample prelube beers supplied, mostly shitty, though a surprising selection of shitty beers, including many Mexican beers (all beavers are Mexicans, of course), PBR roulette, Gansett, Bud Heavy, Bud Light and allegedly some Coorslight too? The hares wanted to get us nice and lubricated for what was to come.

Chalk-talk:

Douche went over all the marks we’d see on trail, it really was an unremarkable chalk-talk.

First Leg to the Wine:

Went around the pond to the island about 50 feet from the start. There was a mark that said “swim” with an arrow pointing to the island, but marks also lead around the pond - fear not, gentle reader, we’d get wet soon enough.

Wine and Jelly Pigs which have been Soaking in Rum for a Year Check:

There was a cryptic post by Douche a few weeks ago “how long can swedish fish type things soak in rum before they go bad?” The general consensus was forever, if the rum was strong enough. Not thinking anything of these comments, we ignored it and moved on to the next post...but then there was a thermos with puffy pig-like things and really strong (sugary) vodka being passed around. Naturally, we drank it. A few people tried to eat the pigs but they were dangerously alcoholic and very hard to chew and swallow. There was also a bag of wine for the more cultured among us. Having traveled all of 100ft, at it already being 8’clock and getting dark, we decided that perhaps we should go find trail and the hares shoed us of out the check.

The Part of the Trail which We Thought was Going to be the Shiggiest:

Leaving the check trail flirted with pavement before coming a check at a bend in the path. Everyone who came from Alewife knew that there was a false on the pavement a-cranium, so into the shiggy we dove. The area we traversed was, and I’m not an ecologist, lightly forested swamp? It’s tightly packed vegetation, but thin, prickly, and generally not fun to walk through, and that’s where trail went. Fellowship commented that it was probably easier to be in the back of pack when most of the shiggy had been tramped down by the people in front. I had no idea what he was talking about as I was merrily breaking all sticks, twigs, or anything else which tried to stand in my way, until, of course we got to the Alewife brook, with a true trail pointing into it, and another arrow on the other side. I had no idea how deep it would be, but, whatever, in I went, and pack - after seeing that I didn’t submerge “Wiki’s tall - lets see how deep it is on him” - followed after me. I was greated on the other side by some nasty thorns and did some bag scouting before running into the “turkeys” who avoided the shiggy standing at a song check. I led pack in a rousing rendition of “The Engineer Song” waiting for everyone to catch up. Trail continued in a “standard” fashion, under route 2, across the soccer fields, through the hobocamps and over the foot bridge and back to the offices in Alewife Linear Park. The FRBs had gone scouting a head and said they’d found an SN but no shots and were moving on. No Shots? Moving on? Blasphemy!

Jello Shots:

The shots were on an “island” that short people had to jump to but the taller members of pack were able to bound across easily enough, retrieve the bag of shots (assuming they were nips) and toss them back to the waiting pack. Unfortunately, as the title of this section indicates, the shots were actually jello shot and there was a moment of panic and near drinking frenzy when it was thought that the shots had spilled on the ground; but the jello containers were made for beavers and were able to take a bit of rough play. We move back away from the swamp and stood around eating all the jello shots until we decided it was dark, almost 8:30, and we still hadn’t hit the beer check, so on ward we went.

Trail, Oh, this is the Shiggy:

Trail ran along the path to the woods past the offices, and there was a hilariously obvious check going back to pavement, when trail was clearly going to go into the woods. In the woods we found a song check and sang about a bear who could probably be found in the woods. I, with foolishness equally that of the mocked hashers in the previous sentence, scouted along the trail through the woods. Ha! Trails! This is Beaver! Trail was laid into the reeds. Douche was standing around being useless and Salty took charge yelling “follow the path we trode, idiots!” So, again, Fellowship and I blazed the trail through the reeds. The reeds were about 10 feet tall, and rather thick. The bog water was freezing and just deep enough to submerge your entire shoe, but no deeper. I doubt the bog went on for more than 50 yards, but FRBing through those reeds made it feel ten times that. What greeted us on the other side? A embankment covered in throns we had to climb up, but of course! From there trail turned right and ran through the back of a development, across an on-ramp to Rt 2, and back into the woods for a casual stroll through the woods until there was a BN next to a hole in the fence. The BC was marked right in the middle of a construction site, and pack thirstily replenish the liquids lost to the shiggy, wondering what the construction workers would think of the the BC and foot prints all over their worksite.

Beer Check #1:

See the sentence above. There was beer, we drank it.

Trail Shitty Pavement Pounding Pt 1:

Leaving the construction site, trail looped through Belmont for maybe a half mile to a ever nice looking school with a playground and some soccer fields.

Beer Check #2:

Was there.

Trail Still More Pavement (Pt 2):

Continued through idyllic suburbia for agian, maybe a half mile before getting to ONIN behind the apartments at the end of the Fitchburg bike path.

ONIN:

This being a Beaver trail, and since all Beavers are Mexicans, there were homemade TAMALLES (by DUI Done Right) which were shoved into our mouths before circle started. Once all the Tammelles had been consumed, Douche wrangled us into some sort of circle. I’m gonna cop to two things; 1 I’ve realized that writing hash trashes hungover on a caffeine high is way more fun than sober and well hydrated 2; due to, or in relation to, the remark above, my memory, for some reason, got fuzzy at, during, or around circle. Here are some accusations I remember; Yoron, for bleeding on trail, the hares, for the shiggy, visitors, for being visitors, beaver first timers and beaver second timers, I dunno, I’m sure I butchered a song or two, chaos, drinking, you know, generally a good circle. I have go do some work now so I can leave on time and rage the beer mile tonight.

ON - BEAVERS LOVE SHIGGY - ON

-Wikipedophilia

Announcements:

Beer Mile tonight, north point park, $5, 6:30, Pub crawl to follow

Marathon main event tomorrow; Kinsale Pub, Gov’t Center, 12:30 for registration and beer

Fat boy sunday: Tits in porter

I dunno, other things.

Rage.