#687 Toxic Love Canal (Part II) – Wednesday, April 6, 2016

#687 Toxic Love Canal (Part II) – Wednesday, April 6, 2016


So there we were.  The clouds were rolling in and the wind was gusting just northeast of downtown in the Lockerbie area.  To make matters worse, this was a Cuntput trail ahead of us  with cautionings of an “extended trail” and the need for “cranium torches”.  Despite the warning signs, around 15 wankers showed up ready for some tunnel action.  The wankers on trail included Just James, Weird Al, Desperate Lay, Poly Glamorous, 13”, Pedaltration, Commie Blowjabi, Anxiously Anal, NEEERRRD!, Just Jestina, Just Amanda and Robo Copafeel.  The hares of this shitty trail were Cuntput and Did We Fuck?  We also had a visitor from Charlotte named Magic Dick.  


As raindrops kept falling on our heads, (wsh?) we circled up and Desperate Lay sent the hares on their way.  We did intros and then gave the hares 10 to 13 of the 15 minutes requested.  The hares most definitely did not hop in a car that was parked a few blocks away, for that would be a hash crime known as auto haring.  


Trail set off west going under I-70 on Vermont St.  There was a check with false trails leading towards Midland Arts & Antique Market.  True trail took us south on the railroad tracks.  A hare’s arrow gave us the go ahead to a parking lot and then into a small patch of woods where Pogue’s Run was flowing.  The wet flour and TP strewn about led us down to the rancid-smelling surface of the stream.  There began our concrete journey into the darkness.


The left side of the tunnel had a steady stream of water, but the right side had a trickle at most.  Trail followed the right side.   As we distanced ourselves further into the tunnel, the light at the entrance grew fainter.  Some sprinkles of flour along the spray-painted walls served as a friendly reminder that we were going the right way.  Every twenty steps or so there were small archways showing the left side of the tunnel.  Soon we found ourselves completely submerged in the darkness completely reliant on our AAA battery powered cranium torches.  

The tunnel ceiling was 7 feet high and the walls were wide.  The tunnel path led us straight with a few small bends.  The echoing of hashers’ voices and footsteps was among the only sound we heard.  Occasionally we could the rumbling of cars overhead.  We continued straight into the obscurity until we could hear the rush of water in the distance.  At first it was faint, but as we proceeded, the trickling turned into the sound of an overflow.  Surely this was the deluge of rainwater that would force us out at the exit.  This noise, however, was one of the few side tunnels.  The exit was not quite in site.  


The hashers persevered through the blackness and eventually saw the light of day expanding in the horizon.  The mouth of the south end of the tunnel was damp and slippery, but really there was no getting wet (unless you slipped and fell like Cuntput and Just Jestina did).  


We found ourselves on the banks of the White River and the skies were rainy. There were the washed out letters of the BN and a faded arrow pointing to the bridge.  We proceeded through the muddy path and mild shiggy along the river until we found a white plastic bag full of beer and ice under the bridge.  There we drank some Yuengling and Miller Lite and had our normal conversations about how we had just went two miles underground and did not know where we were.  


This area once had a steady homeless population.  There were tents and lawn chairs under the bridge and even some dilapidated shacks further into the woods.


There was some cheap rum that tasted more like Vick’s vapor rub with some Coke to mix.  Most hashers just stuck with the beer.  Weird Al was one of those who took a swig or two.


The hares set off, bringing the rum and some beers with them.  The trail took a steep and muddy incline back up to the street level.  Lucas Oil Stadium was now in view.  We went by the Motor Pool Division and east on McCarty where there was a check across the street from Stadium Tavern.  There was a check leading the trail north into an empty parking lot that was fenced off, but there was a gate open.  We crossed S West Street and went by Turner Construction Company.  We went north on S. Missouri toward the stadium.  We took a right and went all the way around the stadium.  

There were some awnings that provided a little bit of cover from the rain. We went over to the north side of the stadium and stopped at the ticket window for a shot check.


The rum and Coke was mixed together and there were some leftover beers from the beer check.  The rum and Coke was pretty strong and drinking it all was a challenge…a challenge accepted by the wankers.  


Trail went north on Capitol and then over to Meridian.  We went by the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument and then east at Market St.  We went by the Indianapolis City Market and then north.  We soon hit the on-in.  Weird Al was the FRB.  


This trail was over 5 miles long on a Wednesday, it was raining and windy and everyone had just spent about half an hour in a sewage tunnel.  The hares expected to get some heat for this, but everyone seemed to have high spirits.  It was now around 10, however and we were all ready to go home.


The hares drank for their shitty trail.  Not enough tunnels, not enough rain and not enough mud were among the chief complaints.  13” and Weird Al brought their lawn chairs into the circle and got called in for that.  Just Jestine got called in for stunts on trail.  Desperate Lay revealed that he was less than sober when we did the virgin ceremony.  Just Amanda was our virgin.  


At some point in the circle, Desperate Lay made a reference to the Super Troopers quote “Bear fucker, do you need assistance?”.  Did We Fuck? laughed out loud and the drunken RA called him into the circle for laughing (and when one hare drinks…).  


We swung low and then got out of the rain.  The on-after was at Mass Ave. pub.  Many of us disposed of our nasty shoes upon returning home.  


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