Our Hybrid Hash: November 15th, 2025: Tarheel #690 and Sir Walter’s #1765
Lickety
When I asked A$$ Clown for details on the Hybrid hash he and Butt-Parking Device were haring, he said that their trail would be A-to-C. I thought it might be just a play on his hash name initials, but everyone who attended discovered that there was more to this initial logic.
Hybrid Hash, November 15th, 2025: Tarheel #690 and Sir Walter’s #1765
Who was there:
Hares: A$$ Clown and Butt-Parking Device
Newbies: Just Steve
Volunteers: Convoy Drivers - Desiree, who runs with AC; Just Deb, Butt-Parking Device’s better half; Endangered Feces; Butt-Parking Device; and A$$ Clown. Culinary Assistants - Slow Hole and A$$ Clown’s better half, Erin. Some great photographers, too! Check the Acknowledgements for details.
Late-Cummer: Super Dave
The rest of the Pack: Tight Lips; Gockel Stumper; Big Box; Jerkules; Mutant Gene; Gypsy Rose; Minute Clinic; Dicktaphone; SeeNoEno; SpeakNoEno; HearNoEno; Ready for Love; DIE Corn; Chili Willie; Dog Ears; Field & Stream; PITA; Scrubjay; Comfort; Sticky Num-Nums; Mr. Cream Jeans; Lickety Spit
Photo Album:
Below is the flickr.com photo album for the Hybrid event with Tarheel (#690) and Sir Walter’s (#1765). These photos come with captions to elaborate on each image.
To view each caption, click directly on the photo, then scroll down to find the caption in the field below. Then, scroll back up and click the arrow on the right side of the image to move on to the next photo.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/147890119@N04/albums/72177720330889719
Hash Summary
Commencing with a Convoy
Our hash was scheduled for mid‑November, but when the Sir Walter’s slot still showed “Hares Needed,” it only made sense for the two kennels to join forces that day.
Hashers from both groups converged at A$$ Clown and his wife Erin’s abode. We found ample parallel parking along the street, then made our way through the stockade gate into the backyard, where several of us ascended to the cozy screened‑in porch. Inside, chairs circled a table laden with copious treats (and plenty of brews). Hashers drifted in to fuel up for the upcoming trail and catch up with friends not seen in a while. And, of course, I began passing around the hash waiver.
When it was time to circle up, the porch door swung open and the hashers inside spilled out onto the lawn to gather and introduce themselves. Behind the deck’s top rail, two volunteers — Desiree and Deb — observed this unfamiliar crowd with curiosity. After we exchanged names (it was a Hybrid hash, after all), the hares took center stage to outline the trail details. With everyone’s attention fixed on them, the two volunteers quietly slipped away to their transport stations.
We were then directed to exit through the gate and reconvene in the front yard — but anyone who thought trail began right there was in for a surprise.
Adventures on the A C Trail
After we were herded into the front yard — voilà — a line of idling vehicles appeared, each with a driver ready to sweep us away. Hashers gradually selected their rides and clambered into the chariots, while Mr. Cream Jeans and I waited to make sure everyone else had a seat. We finally took the last available vehicle (one of the hares’), and just as we opened the back door, Super Dave materialized. Fortunately, the back row had enough safety belts for three.
Our stalwart volunteers transported the pack to a location none of us recognized: an almost‑empty parking lot. The hares conscientiously took a headcount to keep track of how many of us were present, and our departure time was scribbled in chalk on the concrete as we packed off. Thanks to well‑timed Hash Halts and Turkey–Eagle Splits, no hashers went missing that day. One exception was a longtime hasher with a renowned reputation for roaming off trail; I noticed his mysterious disappearance after we started hashing. As it turned out, our starting point was in the town where he lives, and an anonymous source later revealed that he had wandered off to his favorite watering hole to watch a game instead. But, with a sixth sense for exceptionally good times ahead, we saw him later at the Après. Bravo!
Our first Hash Halt was in an inconspicuous parking lot. The pause was brief — the regrouping didn’t take long at all. The next special mark was a Turkey–Eagle Split, and we Turkeys followed a tidy asphalt path through an elegant residential community, its centerpiece a pond crowned with a fountain. A few of us wound up behind the others, but Butt‑Parking Device stood at an intersection to ensure we stayed on course.
Soon, we entered denser, feral terrain with fallen branches, concealed roots, holes in the ground, and a muddy creek for good measure. Making the shift to a sewer line felt like a walk in the park by comparison, but the rougher stretch had already caused tempo variations, so by then, we were naturally spread out. The hares, anticipating this, marked their trail with generous amounts of flour.
A few of us followed a few marks up a grassy slope. We clambered to the top and discovered an athletic field corralled by a chain‑link fence — and hoped to find more flour there. We checked a narrow path between the fence and an endless wall of foliage, but no dollops appeared, so we descended and resumed the search elsewhere. One of the sweepers soon appeared, restoring our confidence. Crossing some riprap where a dollop finally showed, we entered the woods beyond and then began spotting white marks more frequently — mostly on tree trunks — and hope gave way to certainty.
We eventually reached a clearing and, about a hundred yards away, the rest of the hashers, at a hash‑halt on the blacktop, were waiting until the stragglers (us) hurried over. Reunited, we made our way to a stretch of road that ended abruptly at a sign reading “Road Closed – Future Road Extension,” one of many harbingers of the region’s relentless development. We continued through a few more checks on a few more streets — including another community built recently — before the trail transitioned to mounds of shaggy grass and trees, where Mr. Cream Jeans discovered an old tobacco barn. In Wake County, tobacco barns like this one — broadleaf timber and masonry — were typical of 1890–1960 farm construction, built by hand and used for curing tobacco during the region’s agricultural peak. He ducked inside to snap photos of the rafters and the loose boards leaning against a wall, all bearing the quiet marks of time and gravity.
We followed marks through this untended terrain and, having already worked up a thirst, gleefully came upon the Beer Break with a blue Mazda carrying coolers of cold beer and snacks provided by Sir Walter’s. The location was ideal — a green plateau tucked away from civilization and buffered by thick foliage. Gockel Stumper positioned himself farther back to snap photos of us from a distance, while the rest of us were immersed in slamming cold drinks and chomping on the variety of treats. The animal crackers sparked childhood nostalgia, and the salty‑crunchy chips were, as always, a crowd‑pleaser. After capturing several photos of us mingling and hanging out, Gockel Stumper joined in the refreshments.
Before we resumed trail, GS found special amusement in hopping into a steamroller — something hashers have historically done on Sir Walter’s trails.
Leaving the site, we followed an old dirt road uphill until we reached the edge of a precipice. Someone yelled “Photo op!” and we were striking candid poses while Butt-Parking Device took some pictures. Fortunately, nobody lost their balance or took a fatal plunge.
Turning around, we were directed to the marks that would lead us forward. In one stint of “no man’s land,” flour was so hard to find in the bush that toilet paper was used instead. As we persevered, Big Box had requisitioned a large plastic bucket and was collecting every piece of litter she could find in her quest to remove debris. She continued her eco‑mission as we climbed uphill toward a power line corridor with giant towers reaching into the clouds. At the apex, we looked down on a bulldozed construction zone — more signs of development — and the towers assured that energy sources would be readily accessible.
Beyond the clay work areas and tire tracks, we descended into different surroundings, fighting our way through a thicket of tangled branches and sharp briars that could scratch hard and draw blood. Keeping our heads high, we braved the path chosen by the hares, determined to show no fear — and not fall too far behind. My phone rang; it was Mr. Cream Jeans, but I answered too late. When I tried to call back, there was no answer. What was going on? I would soon find out, just as the others would.
We reached a wide creek, deep from recent storms, with a huge fallen tree trunk serving as the only available bridge for miles around.
Wait – weren’t we supposed to have a Turkey Trail option?
Mr. Cream Jeans was there and had tried to warn me about what lay ahead. He and Rod n' Staff had searched in both directions for another way across but found nothing. So even those of us no longer spring chickens faced the challenge of using the fallen tree as a bridge to reach the other side. Some of us got on our hands and knees to crawl across, while others somehow made it on foot. A hasher later revealed that there had been quite a kerfuffle between two people beginning the crossing, but he wasn’t about to look back to see who was doing what — not with the risk of losing his balance and plunging into the creek.
After that perplexing obstacle was finally behind us, the rest of the course felt benign by comparison. We ambled through a myriad of well‑marked trees until the stockade fence surrounding AC’s backyard came into view — and suddenly, our thirst returned with a vengeance.
A Delectable Conclusion to a Remarkable Trail
By the time we emerged from the woods and spotted the stockade fence around AC’s backyard, our thirst had returned in full force — a sure sign that the Après was near.
At the On‑In, or Après, we settled in with beer and other cold drinks, swapping tales of the day’s adventures. Meanwhile, the finishing touches of the buffet inside were nearly complete; it wouldn’t be long before the enticing aromas drifting from the kitchen would lure us indoors to begin the culinary stage of the event — and it was nothing short of extraordinary.
A$$ Clown had meticulously prepared a feast of authentic Indian dishes: Butter Chicken (murgh makhani), Red Lentil Dal, and a coconut‑based curry combining collard greens, potatoes, and chickpeas. A large tray of oven‑baked, fluffy rice and warm slices of naan complemented the main course beautifully.
There were plenty of places to sit — the dining room table offered ample seating, the screened enclosure held several more spots, and, with November gifting us such temperate weather, a few hashers even brought lawn chairs outside to enjoy their meal under the open sky.
Dessert brought its own delights: a tray of chewy brownies and a moist apple‑butter cake courtesy of AC’s mother‑in‑law. A sweet conclusion to a mouthwatering production. As the afternoon waned, Mr. Cream Jeans and I knew it was our time to head home; after all, bedtime seems to arrive earlier with each passing year. We thanked the hares for their memorable trail, A$$ Clown for the elaborate Indian fare, and Erin for her warm hospitality. And surely AC and Erin appreciated Slow Hole’s fine attention to detail as she helped set up the Après.
Epilogue: Introducing a new hasher: Meet Just Steve!
We have a new member, Just Steve, who learned about hashing from friends in Baltimore. This was his first hash, but he soon joined Sir Walter’s on several of their romps.
He was born in Connecticut, lived a few years in Texas, and then moved to Florida, attending college in Tallahassee and middle and high school in Jupiter. He moved to North Carolina 22 years ago for a postdoctoral fellowship at UNC‑CH. When that position ended, he was fortunate to be hired as an assistant professor at NC State — without even having to move. Since then, he has remained a proud member of the Wolfpack.
His other main activity is soccer. He plays in Rainbow’s over‑40 pick‑up league and tries to play at least twice a week. “I’m a pretty terrible player relative to the rest of the crew,” he said, “but it’s a nice group of folks and a low‑pressure environment. It’s also a great workout, and I love the friendly competition.”
Regarding his first hash, Steve said, “It’s been fun getting into this, and I appreciate how welcoming everyone has been.” The camaraderie and openness of the group made his introduction to hashing both enjoyable and memorable. Although he would be away over the holidays, he looks forward to hashing more in 2026.
Acknowledgements
Our Convoy Transportation
We appreciate the crew who shuttled us from A$$ Clown’s place to the starting point of the trail. These volunteers included:
• the hares — A$$ Clown and Butt‑Parking Device
• Desiree, who regularly runs with AC
• Just Deb, Butt‑Parking Device’s First Mate
• Endangered Feces, who has lent a hand at other hashes as well
Thank you all for making this innovative trail possible.
Assisting Photographers
The collection of photographs contributed by fellow hashers was truly stupendous.
Gockel Stumper’s snapshots were delightfully candid, many taken from clever vantage points — including a bird’s‑eye view of hashers gathering behind the stockade fence.
Sticky Num‑Nums captured me with a backdrop of upscale homes nestled among gently rolling hills and a lovely pond crowned by a fountain.
Butt‑Parking Device shared striking views of bulldozed land and signs of new infrastructure underway. One panoramic shot enveloped an entire work zone with a fish‑eye‑lens flair. He also photographed the most challenging trail feature near the end, where a massive tree trunk served as the only obvious way to cross a creek deepened by recent storms.
Mr. Cream Jeans caught glimpses of genuine features off the beaten path – specifically, an old tobacco barn inside and out - then later took more photos at the Après, where hashers savored the gourmet cuisine.
I appreciate what all of you have contributed – and these photos will greatly highlight this Hybrid Hash’s Flickr photo album.
Trailblazer:
Gockel Stumper contributed a map of the course we bravely traversed, and in so doing, presented an exceptional souvenir as a reminder of adventures experienced by both the Tarheel and Sir Walter’s groups on the November 2025 Hybrid Hash.
Thank you, GS, for recording this trail - for us, and, possibly, for posterity.
The Hares
Massive kudos go to the hares, A$$ Clown and Butt‑Parking Device, for organizing this Hybrid event — bringing together Tarheel and Sir Walter’s members to share traditions, refreshments, and adventures on a truly memorable trail.
The Après was equally remarkable. We will fondly remember A$$ Clown’s lavishly prepared Indian dishes — all of them incredible — followed by homemade cake and brownies as a sweet finale. I asked AC for the Indian dish and apple‑butter cake recipes, which will be included as attachments.
Thank you both for launching an event for Tarheel and Sir Walter’s hashers, complete with twists and surprises that exceeded expectations.
Thank you and On-On,
Lickety Spit