|02 Sep 2012||Margaret & Brian||John|
On Sunday about eighteen of us ventured along the M4 to indulge in the Victorian elegance and charm of Clevedon. And what a delightful place it is too, consisting of a long promenade, glorious views of the distant Welsh coastline eight miles across the Severn Estuary and even a 150 year old pier.
Brian, arriving exhausted after laying the trail, showed us with flour that the walker’s route was something like a protracted pair of spectacles in which you walked around the ‘lenses’ in a clockwise direction. Showing us the runners’ route to the same scale, I thought Brian was going to disappear around the far side of the pub. The instructions having been completed, the runners left at a blistering pace along the shoreline.
Half way round Brian had just enough breath left to say he had forgotten to ask me to write the Hash Mag, by which time I couldn’t remember where we had been. I can only remember Ollie and Jeremy being way out in front, (but that’s safe to say because they are always way out in front) and a canal or man-made waterway on the right, then a field full of very frisky cows which we were pleased we didn’t need to enter as we discovered that the route almost immediately came back onto the road again. The end of the route gave us superb views of the bay and a precarious twisting pathway down the hillside.
After a fortifying meal and drink at the pub, we were all excited by the prospect of ‘silly games’ on the beach organised by Margaret. These consisted of ‘the egg and spoon’ race, ‘the three legged’ race (modesty forbids me to say, but there was a clear winning couple here) ‘ladies dressing up in mens clothes’ race and ‘men dressing up in ladies clothes’ race. This appeared to be enjoyed by a growing audience but all good things come to an end – eventually.
Next on the agenda was a walk to the end of the pier, tempted by the promise of tea and cakes. We did have our tea but the triple layered chocolate sponge was declined as some of us had already indulged in triple puddings (albeit with restricted custard allowances) and ice cream. The pier, built in the 1860’s and extending over The Severn where the tidal range can reach up to 46feet, is the only fully intact Grade 1 listed pier in the country. It also has been known to be visited by unexplained ghostly figures (it’s on Youtube so it must be true) seen at the end of the pier and then mysteriously disappearing,
and also the smell of burnt toast- but not necessarily at the same time. I must admit I don’t like the sound of ghostly figures, but what’s so unusual about the smell of burnt toast- we often have that in our house…..
Margaret was inconsolable that part of her well researched route was not walked by some of the walkers (something about a missing arrow?). Therefore to redress the balance, we remaining Hashers agreed to walk the route and what a super route it was. All along the shore line, up to the higher part of the town where the rich people live and back joining the runners’ route down winding lanes and brick steps to the shore promenade. All this additional exercise brought on the need for a further cup of tea, which was indulged in at Tiffins.
Thanks to Margaret and Brian for a splendid memorable day out and one which should have a place in our annual diary of events.