Every Saturday afternoon, a group of self-proclaimed “drinkers with a running problem” gather in a remote corner of Grenada to hike or run through the bush with a couple hundred of their closest friends. After the run, there’s always a fun party, with food, beer, and maybe even a DJ. Capt. Mike and I joined in as often as possible during our stay in Grenada, to see different parts of the island, meet locals, and get a bit of exercise. If you’re curious about the history and rituals of the Hash House Harriers around the globe, check out this Wikipedia link. Grenada supposedly has the largest HHH organization in the world!
Our first Hash was the first held since COVID-19 restrictions. It was a BLAST as everybody was able to finally get together again in the great outdoors. COVID protocols were definitely in place – masks required when you’re not eating, drinking, or running; social distancing with separation between groups; allowing extra time to register by spreading people out. But it didn’t dampen the fun one bit.
The thing that came closest to dampening the fun was in fact the bus ride to this first Hash. It was so popular that local taxi driver Shademan ran two whole busses from the cruiser-popular areas in the south bays of Grenada to the event. Now, the “bus” is really just a van with 4 rows of bench seats. Our bus to the hash crammed in 22 people (and one dog) for a ride that took over an hour and a half in the late summer heat. We had to alternate who could sit back in the seats, versus who had to sit on the very edge to fit so many full sized adults and kids.
But we made it! If you have any picture in your mind of trail running on flowing single track through an aspen grove in the mountains of Colorado…. that’s NOT what a Hash in Grenada is like 🤣 They call it a run through the bush, but to me, it’s a jungle! You push through greenery and vines grab at your ankles. You wade through mud, and sometimes streams. You pass avocado and mango trees, sometimes trampling rotting mangos underfoot, cacao bushes with their bright red pods, the trail (when there actually is a trail) is frequently crossed by lizards and spiders.
There are no switchbacks. The ups and downs are steep and slick, and your best bet is to grab the trees and vines to control the rate of your fall. This may or may not sound like fun to you, but I’ve gotta say, once you get over the fear of getting dirty, it’s a heck of a lot of challenging good time. On a later, even muddier Hash, I fell on my butt three separate times on the same long downhill stretch. Good thing there was a water tap for hosing down at the finish line of that one!
A Hash is more of a game or a puzzle than simply a run. Each week, a different member acts as the “Hare” and sets out the trail ahead of time. The rest of us are the hounds, essentially chasing down the hare. The trail is marked using small piles of shredded paper. When you see one of these paper markers, there’s a sense of relief – phew, we’re still on the trail. Except…when you’re not. A couple of times during each Hash, I’d be streaming along quite happily, huffing and puffing, following the trail, until suddenly, the dreaded X. When you come across an X made of paper, you’ve arrived at a dead end in the trail. At some point prior, maybe at an “O” of paper suggesting you’ve arrived at a crossroads, you’ve taken a wrong turn. Possibly even still following innocent looking paper trail markers. Until you realize the Hare outsmarted you again, and it’s time to turn around and start hunting the one real true trail. If you suspect you might very well be lost, you can shout out “Are you?!?” to ask whether other hashers within the sound of your voice are on the right trail. If so, hopefully someone will shout back, “On-On!” Or, if they’ve already found the dreaded X, they might respond “On back!” to let you know you should go no further; the pack is backtracking. Usually, this whole thing is part of the fun. But once, I took a wrong turn and got separated from the pack. I’d covered at least four miles, and was longing for the finish line and a cold beverage, but I couldn’t even hear the music blaring from the finish party yet. At that point, I’d had enough of tricks and false trails, thank you very much!
One of the best parts of hashing in Grenada is that it gets us outside the cruiser bubble and gives us the chance to meet real local Grenadians. One Saturday, Mike and I took the local bus to get to the Hash at the Westerhall Rum Distillery. Wearing our bright blue hash t-shirts, everybody knew exactly where we were going. Usually, the bus drivers ignore us, but this time the driver and conductor joked and chatted. At the Spice Island Mall stop, a young woman got on and said, “Hey, I didn’t know the Hashes were happening again!” Fun to get even the smallest chance to feel like a local!