This'll have to be quick because I have too much shit to do…

For the middle of August it was surprisingly not atrociously humid and hot, and as we arrived at the Port Clinton hikers shelter, I was hoping to catch a few of the dreadlocked AT Trail hikers who usually stink up the place in mid-August each year.   Sadly, the only evidence of the AT hikers was in the form of a few pairs of laceless boots,  a book entitled "Dreadlocks, and the Chicks Who Think That Dudes Who Don't Wash Their Hair Are Hot", some well-used roach-clips, and a bottle of Nair.

Despite the beautiful day and the loverly vistas of the Blue Mountains, we were only able to scrounge-up a few hashers – including Just Lays There, Just Lee, Just Dee, OE, Milk Duds, myself and our visitor from Albuquerque, Follow the Bleeder.  The Hare-helper, 'Just Wendy' showed up a bit late –and we found out that she is Schuylkill County's own version of the Princess Diana (sans massive paparazzi-induced head injuries of course) and was for a time hitched to one the Yuengling dynasty.  As she alighted from her car wearing a low-cut top, and carrying two 15 lb bags of ice, I shouted out "hey look at those fun bags!"  A silence passed over the pack, and I figure either I named her, or scared her away for good – only time will tell.

Primo Hare DBT gave us some intricate and highly confusing chalk-talk which involved lessons in number theory, a discussion of what exactly constitutes a quorum in a legislative assembly, and the type of torque wrench required to fix an 82 Chevy Impala.  There were all sorts of new symbols to decipher on trail, some detailed discussion of beer checks, 'Jesus Juice' checks, and an impending 40 ft plunge into the Schuylkill River which we were all supposed to make.  After confusing us all – and himself several times – our hare was off, while we were left to finish up a bag of Lance Party Mix and pine for the beer that was locked in the hare's car.   We briefly considered skipping the trail and heading up to the Port Clinton Hotel for a nice dinner (Monday is Chicken Special), but figuring that the hare probably had a veritable smorgasbord of foodstuffs waiting for us, along with a bevy of scantily-clad serving wenches, fine bone china, sterling silver flatware, and the best 18 year old Scotch that money could buy, we elected instead to follow the Turd.  (We did not choose wisely).

A quick crossing of the "Little Schuylkill" and we were up on railroad tracks (now pay attention here, most of the trail was on or under the tracks, so I don't want you to fall asleep -- stop here and have a swig of Jolt or something if you need to).  After we exited the tracks (for the first time), trail went up hill to an old cemetery.  Along with 'Follow the Bleeder', I took the trail up through the cemetery to the 'YBF' mark.  Bleeder asked me to take a picture of her in the cemetery.  I obliged, getting a nice shot of her among the granite headstones.  I then suggested a few other poses, which Bleeder was only happy to accommodate.  Each pose involved her wearing less and less of her clothing and involved her getting more and more excited about the prospect of getting all slutty in a cemetery, until finally she looked like Kiera Knightley in the CoCo perfume ads.  Damn it was hot – my glasses got all steamed up, and I'm thankful that I had that vasectomy last year so I can rest assured that there aren't any little Decoys running around Albuquerque some day (Who says we don't know how to treat outa-towners, huh? ).

Anyway, back on trail, we did a bit of bushwhacking, making sure to cross through the requisite field of poison ivy (thanks Turd… you da man) and then headed back down to the river.  Dee and I took the lead, but must have missed something.  Apparently TT went over the river – but we skipped this part and just headed behind a playground, under a railroad bridge where we found trail and a cooler with a mini-heineken keg.  At some point, we had lost OE, JLT and Just Lee – but regrettedly they soon found us.  We fucked around under the bridge for a while arguing about stalagtites versus stalagmites, discussing the merits of ass-enhancement surgery, and ascertaining that Just Dee's sordid past included his seduction of little girls. Yup, good clean fun.  A brief stop before we got on trail to do lurid things with the mini-heiney keg and we were off.

Trail took us back up to the railroad tracks (déjà vu all over again!), and we passed through headquarters of the Blue-Mountain & Reading Railroad.  Really a neat place, and think of the deal they must have gotten on those windows….  I was kinda hoping that some dude in one of those blue and white striped hats and a pair of overalls would come out and give us hell for trespassing, but we got off clean. 

Another ½ mile or so on the track and we found Just Rich & the Turd at a rock outcropping over the river.  Trail theoretically continued on the other side of the river at this point and the only way across was to make sure the life insurance policy was paid-up and take the plunge.  The Turd was up there at the top, trying to convince some 16 year old future welfare queen to take the plunge.  Dee, myself, OE, the Turd, and Just Lee all jumped from the top ledge – but we were unsuccessfully in trying to convince any of our bims to do the same.  I was hoping (nay PRAYING) that they would, so we could watch their swimsuits be ripped from their very bodies by the force of the plunge, but apparently I haven't been good to Jesus, because they all took a pass.

Light was fading, so the Turd let us short-cut to the Dam.  We somehow lost OE – who had followed the 16 year old girl across the river, trying to do his best 'Just Dee' impersonation.  The hares guided us to the Kernsville Dam, where we threw a bag of charcoal in the parking lot and then dogged-up, threw down some amazing pierogies that Just Rich had cooked up for us, quaffed a few beers, and discussed whether OE was dead, lost, or just ambivalent to our cause.  It wasn't quite the red carpet service and fine cuisine I had imagined, but you know… it did just fine. 

After an hour or so, Turd started to get a little jumpy – ascared that he had killed the Reading GM – but OE was soon driving into the parking lot in his shitmobile and a circle commenced.  Not too much to the circle, but we did get the opportunity to name "Just Dee" who will for now and evermore be known as 'Teen Beat'.  Congrats Teeny, and wear it wisely.

Anyway, that was it.  Really. 

Shitty (Shorty) Trail
Shitty Hash
Shitty Grub

ON-ON
 

Decoy

FOLLOW THE BLEEDER's photos:  http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=kepwboc.416wa8m0&Uy=snvzlz&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=1

JUST LAYS THERE's photos:

http://community.webshots.com/album/560283035JQKzBw