Run: 1928, 2 March 2020
Location: Pakkret, Wat Toei
Hare: Bob 'Bullit' B

When I learned that the meeting point was on the docks on the other side of the river, I already knew this was going be a scenic and shiggylicious run. I was not disappointed at all. With some new faces and regulars, we all - 30 odd Hashers started piling onto an ancient looking boat, piloted by an equally classic looking boat captain.

With some help from his first mate "Boob A Lube", we pushed off the boat ramp and made our way about a km up river. From the chaos of the city, the boat ride was a tranquil respite.

After about 20 minutes of peace and quiet, we were finally feet dry in front of a beautiful statue of the Buddha.

With the temple dog’s frenzied encouragement and a false right turn, we started running back down in the general direction of downriver before we were rudely pointed towards the setting sun.

Running along beautiful plots of rice fields ripe for the harvest and khlongs surprisingly clean that I can see the bottom, I trudge along convincing myself that I’ve got this. Westward a couple of hundred meters then downriver again towards A. I said to myself, I can do this in with my eyes closed. Was I dead wrong. As we curved back down south again were stopped in our tracks with a very challenging check, and an existential question (WWBD) "What Would "Bullet" Do? Towards the south was a rickety, single plank wooden bridge that my perfectly attuned sense of direction (aka my GPS watch) told me was the right way to go. But I was conflicted, no way "Bullet" with make this treacherous crossing. But behind me a back check that I thought was too far to check out, so off I go over the bridge trying to convince myself that I will pick up the trail right around the next hump, or the next, or the next. Kept pressing on till it was too late (aka lazy) to turn back.

Keeping the sun to our right, Boob A Lube and I finally intersected the trail and a check in an open field. We picked up on the trail again but we were both wondering if we were ahead or behind the pack. No turning back now, we pushed on south through recently harvested dried out fields with uneven, pothole pocked ground that threatened to swallow and twist your ankle if you’re foolish enough to keep running.

Nearing what we felt was the home stretch we were pleasantly surprised to find a group of ladies bathing on a picturesque lake. Promptly slowing down to a walk to mitigate the risk of twisting our ankles and to admire the sunset reflecting on the lake, while totally ignoring the spectacle of cleansing ritual in front of us, we pushed on with a renewed spring in our step and naughty grins on our faces.

We triumphantly claimed bragging rights as the first bastards in and tried and failed the rest of the evening explaining how we missed a couple of kilometers of the trail.