Floats and washes are great and all, but going face-first into the frothy deep makes the BEER taste so much better. Whitewater and big rubber boats bring out everyone’s inner 12-year-old comedian. Having the hare as your guide, sending you from one hole to another, now that’s a trail. All that and more is why hares Daddy’s Little Beaver and Shocker Gibby offered up their expertise as rafting afficionados for hash #69+29!

Rafting trips require organization, though, and they stuck the job of organizing with the most scatter-brained hound in the kennel. Cum Analyst knows how to nag, though, as F’n B can attest. She accepted that duty with gusto and handed the rest off to F’n B, whose effort consisted of leaving everyone to fend for themselves. It was a clever tactic: through a process of self-selection, it ensured that only the most dedicated and coordinated hashers would board those rafts.

Lol j/k. Multiple blue-balling hounds disappointed the pack at the last minute with I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m not cumming 🛩️☹️ Party up the Back wasn’t one of them, however. He came prematurely for the morning trip now that he hangs out with the cool kids. Fuck you, Party, and your little dog too. That left seven hounds to spread leisurely across two rafts, and they most likely showed up by chance, like the first-gen Roombas that bounced from the wall to the table leg and somehow managed to keep the northeast quadrant pristine but not that spot next to the couch where the grit taunted you while you watched the latest episode of Fear Factor.

Those seven brave but dangerous hounds gathered at the bar next to the outfitters to pre-game in fair Ocoee, GA. The day was hot, the BEER was cold, and a splash in the river was just what this pack needed. One, two, three BEERS went down, the time passed, and still no word from the hares about when to hit the water. They spotted a hare running around in a long skirt in the woods first one direction, then the other, but no instructions whatsoever. Apparently paddle time runs behind normal time. It even runs behind hash time. But hashers abide as long as there is BEER.

Of all the majestic rivers in the area, the pack had chosen the middle Ocoee, because who needs Olympic-level rapids or rom-com movie locations? Not these middling motherfuckers. The bus kicked them off at the dam, and the GM blessed the hares because god knows they needed it. Shocker Gibby claimed three EAGLES for his boat while VIRGIN Just Holly was stuck guiding the TURKEYS. With lots of awkward positioning and vague assurances that they were doing it right, the FIRST ANAL WHITEWATER HASH was ON ON!

You would think a whitewater hash trash would write itself, but in reality it’s the same jokes over and over. Let’s get those out of the way first:

• Cum Analyst took it in the face on the very first run. She was caught by surprise, because F’n B always gives her a heads up first.
• Shocker Gibby is familiar with all the holes. Some deep, some wide, some smooth, but all are wet and ready.
• Just Brett got it up with the chicken strap. It makes for good leverage so Just Holly can finish the job.
• DLB took long, smooth strokes, just like Daddy taught her.
• While spitting is an option, Care Bear prefers to swallow.
• Shocker Drew likes a light grip on his shaft, but he also likes it when someone else tosses it for him.
• F’n B and Ghost Rider took turns riding the bull. It was just like old times, complete with the squeals of delight.

Now that you’ve got that out of your system, to the trip itself. There is no warm-up on the Ocoee, it gets straight to business. It makes for a lot of clacking paddles among hounds who are both uncoordinated and unable to keep up with how many strokes the guides want. The TURKEY boat dug its nose into the water, and DLB nearly floated away. The EAGLES hung back to watch the TURKEY ladies’ shorts ride up.

It wasn’t just the C3H3 boats having all the fun. At one point neither the EAGLES nor the TURKEYS could progress because a boat was stuck on the rocks. The poor guide struggled against a raft full of passengers who needed to spend less time riding the waves and more time riding the snake. Waist-deep in not-quite-ice-cold water, he eventually moved it enough to let the hash continue spinning, crashing, and splashing.

With Shocker Gibby casually steering his boat, no one expected that he is a trained assassin, tasked with taking out the GM and making it look like an accident. He veered the raft into a wave, and up and out went F’n B. Alas, the attempt on his life failed. He quickly broke the surface with the grace of a manatee. The GM would live to GM again. The hounds cried, “Please, tell us who hired you. We don’t want him as GM either. He doesn’t want him as GM. We will pay them. Someone, anyone take over, we are begging you.” Like every time before, their pleas were met with silence.

Sadly, Ghost Rider and Care Bear were collateral damage as they tumbled in next to their fearless leader. Imagine surviving Fallujah only to be taken out by a long-haired hippie named Gibby in front of a crowd. Christ, how embarrassing. The only way to live that down is to not be alive. The least we can do is give them a truth-adjacent epitaph that reads, “Here lie Ghost Rider and Care Bear, who died doing what they loved most: gripping their rubber.”

As the end of the trip approached, Just Holly decided that it was a good time for her hounds to play river bottom geologist. She deftly maneuvered the raft sideways into a drop and launched her passengers into the river, a moment immortalized on video. Soaking wet and fully satisfied, the hounds crawled up the bank like emerging from the primordial ooze and lurched into the waiting bus.

When they disembarked back at the outfitter, the hounds found themselves at the one and only BEER stop: behind the hares’ camper. The problem? Not enough BEER! How can this be a hash without BEER?! Blame the Grand Mattress for not lugging along her cooler of Shitty BEER Left Behind Because It’s Too Shitty for Hashers. Thankfully they were next to a bar and the hares improvised with a bottle of rum, so all was not lost.

There was much confusion as DLB told the hounds she had laid trail from there, but not really, but she could tell us where to go, sort of…and the hounds got confused and decided to go straight to circle. First up was vote on trail, which was declared GOOD TRAIL! It was cool, it was refreshing, and most importantly it led to BEER. As a reward the hares took a shot of rum.

Without a laid trail to fuck up, there were no hare charges, and without a trail to fuck up on there were no trail charges. Next on the list was INTERRUPTUS. The GM assured DLB that yes, that last half-assed hash did count, and she had to step forward and drink it down down down.

C3H3 welcomed many VIRGINS, even if some of them just wandered up wondering what all the fuss was about. Just Holly, Just Margaret, and Just Some Other Guy were made to cum by Shocker Gibby, while Just Brett was made to cum by F’n B. To all our lady VIRGINS, welcome! To the men, fuck you!

It was time for NAMINGS! Gibby and Drew were excited to retire their Shocker status and officially come into the fold. The pack had waited for this particular hash to name them, what with the innuendo opportunities on the trip, and they were ready to pounce.

First up was Shocker Gibby. One of the truest trusims in hashing is that what would-be hashers think would make a good name is never the name they get. Daddy’s Little Beaver had her heart set on Sticky Hole after one of his favorite rapids. Bitch, please. C3H3 can do better than that. DLB then offered up his penchant to abuse the camp kids aboard his raft. You know there’s trouble when kids come into the naming equation. A voice from the cheap seats jumped on it with Paddlephile! With great appreciation for the pun, the GM wrote it in stone. WELCOME, PADDLEPHILE!

Next, Shocker Drew. Like all bright-eyed pups, he threw out things that he thought would make a good name like Search Engine Optimizer and My Roommates Watched the First Time I Lost My Virginity. The true gem was that he was once a model of the Only Fans variety. He was so successful that a notorious celebrity’s friend’s cousin paid his sister $700 for pictures of his feet. They are so magnificent, women insist on reverse cowgirl to admire his toes. Again from the cheap seats came a cry of seven hundred dollar toes! It was decided. WELCOME, $700 TOES!

That was it for the fun and games, now down down to BUSINESS:

• Drinking practice on Tuesday, August 25^th at 6pm. Assume it’s at Mike’s Hole in the Wall where they have the good trivia.
• Next hash tentatively September 12^th, hare TBD.
• You may have noticed that this was the FIRST ANAL whitewater hash. It was decent enough to do again. Block off summer 2027 and cancel all other plans on your calendar.

Normally the hash would be over at this point, but DLB insisted that she was now sure there was a trail and the hounds had to sniff it out. The circle may or may not have closed before they departed in their sandals and wet clothes. It soon became obvious why she waited – trail charges were over, so the hounds couldn’t whine about the lack of marks that sent them into the deep, dark woods. A quarter mile later, the hounds found the combination DOWN DOWN / ON AFTER at the bar. Thus ended a day of enough cheap quips to last another year.

First in: 🤷‍♀️
Swim-min’: F’n B
Gonna come at you like a spider monkey: Just Holly