With at least 6,000 Hash House Harrier clubs throughout the world and more than 100,000 hashers, they have become known as the club with a strong bond to the fermented brew who happen to have a running problem. Qualifications for membership are specific: a penchant for drinking beer, a healthy outlook on life, and the ability to withstand, or take part in, any prank.

 "All you need is a pair of running shoes and a sense of humor. And you have to leave your ego behind," says 45-year-old Norm Wheatley, who began hashing in San Francisco in 1987. He finds the Bay Area suited to running
 because the weather is nice, it's scenic and safe. Also, there are a lot of  competitive races in the vincinity. Nicknamed "Cuming Mutha," he's the webmaster for the Hash House Harriers' site and also spends a fair amount of
 time setting the trails and organizing the hash events.

 In Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in 1938. Albert Stephen Ignatius Gispert gathered a group of male expatriates to play a game of human "paper chase." The group got its name from the Selangor Club Chambers, known as the "Hash House," where they would eat their meals.

 Originally, the paper chase, also called Hares and Hounds, was a hunting sport where the hounds would try to locate the trail left by the hares. In the hash, men substituted as hares by laying a paper trail, and the hounds
 (other men) tried to locate it and follow the trail to the end. Many of the runs ended at a pub where the men refreshed themselves with beer.

 The San Francsico hash always takes place on Monday nights. "It was a night to get over the overindulgence of the weekend," says Ken Evans, who has hashed in many countries. "The real strong hashes are about running and drinking hard."

 As time passed, a few changes took place in the hash. "For the first 45 years, it was men only. After that, the women broke down the barriers," says Evans. At the Hong Kong hash, the wives of the hashers became upset
 that they could not join, so they decided to start their own hash. Soon after, Evans decided to break into the women's hash and thus, the integrated hash was born. In the past five years, certain hashes turned into family
 hashes so they tamed down somewhat, but the events still involve excessive beer drinking. Also, in today's hashes, the hares use heaps of flour to lay trails instead of paper.

 ON, ON!
 Chaos ensues when the runners lose the direction of the eagle trail (4.5 miles) while the walkers take the easier and shorter turkey trail (4 miles). The hares use different trail marks to guide the runners in the right  direction, or sometimes, the wrong direction. For instance, they find a circle of flour with an X in the middle, indicating that the trail divides into different areas and the hounds have to locate the correct route. They send out the Front Running Bastards, usually the stronger runners, to locate the heap of flour that marks the correct trail. Someone finds it and yells,
 "ON! ON!" The Hashers descend the hill like a swarm of bees, some going so fast that they roll down the steep hill before quickly picking themselves up to continue running. Others cautiously cling to branches along the way to
 keep themselves from falling.
 "It's the most social group ever. I do it for the exercise and the social aspects," says Jim Feuhrer, whose nickname, "No Glove, No Love" stems from his habit of wearing gloves while running to protect his hands.

 WHAT'S IN A NAME?
 Hashing nicknames are earned, not given. For instance, Robbie Cook, a small man with a mischievous smile is named, "Pussy Whipped." "As I got older, the women runners started to beat me (on the run)," says Cook, who founded
 the San Francisco hash in August 1982. "So, the Ex-Grand Mattresses got together and named me," he says.

 Michel Chaboudy received her nickname, Meat Pie, at the Hash Olympics, which are held every two years in a different destination and attended by about 4,000 hashers. During one race, hashers ran laps around a gym. After the first lap, runners chugged a beer; after the second lap, they gobbled a banana; a meat pie marked the end of the last lap. Chaboudy finished first, ate the entire meat pie, and won the race and a new nickname, she says.

 Robert Philkill, otherwise known as "Son of Shit," earned his name in the San Diego hash, where he wore a baseball cap with a light attached to the bill. Many hashers used the light as a guide. While running, Philkill suddenly felt the call of nature and decided to relieve himself in the nearby bush but forgot that he left his hat light on. "I was wondering why everyone was running in my direction," he says. He quickly pulled himself together and left the area but not before the name stuck.

 If a person hasn't received their badge of honor, their nickname will be similar to Dave Cavanaugh's: Just Dave.

 MISMANAGEMENT
 "The hash is a dictatorship, not a democracy and it's a volunteer organization," says Jeanne Carlson, wearing her funky red cap that carries pins from the hashes she has attended around the world. In a non-controlling manner, hash officials tell hashers what to do and punish those who break the rules. It's understood that hashers participate because they want to.

 Instead of a rank system, positions are passed on to different members annually. This year, Philkill holds the position of Religious Advisor (RA),and must attend the hash every Monday to hand out "Down-Downs" to those who
 deserve punishment for breaking rules, like taking a shortcut or wearing new shoes. "Down-Down's" require the offender to drink beer from any container they are given while the rest of the group bellows a hash song. If the
 offender does not finish the drink by the time the song is done, he or she must pour the remainder over his or her head.

 The highest-ranking officers include the Grand Master, currently held by Scott Stawicki, and the Grand Mattress, held by Sue Redding. "We make sure that the trail is set every week, the activities are planned and that we
 have plenty of money to function," Redding says. Most of the money comes from a five-dollar fee charged per run. "That means we have the honor in dealing with the lowest forms of complaints and problems within the hash and
 attempt to solve them through beer and exercise," adds Stawicki. Common complaints include the long lengths of some trails and racy jokes when children are present.

 STICKY ISSUES
 After about 40 minutes of running up and down steep hills, through dense shrubs and over rocky terrain, the Harriers meet at the halfway mark--the beer check--where they catch their breath and partake in their second
 libation of the day. A ranger drives by the beer check slowly but never says a word about their illegal roadside drinking. Call it luck.

 Luck hasn't always followed the Hash House Harriers, though. They have a tendency to cut into people's properties, jump over fences, or run in off-limit areas. "About 10 years ago, we were banned from the Presidio, because we desecrated the general's lawn," Cook says. On that hash, the hares set the trail directly through the general's front yard, and runners cut through a resident's garden while he gardened. "The ban was short, and 6 months later, we were hashing in the Presidio again," Wheatley says.
 A few months ago, the Harriers' run occurred in San Francisco's Financial District. There was a bunch of homeless people who saw them drinking and wanted to join in. When the homeless were told they couldn't participate, they threatened to call the cops. "Ten minutes later, Stan Russell, (Reverend Itchy Stick) was pouring them beers," says Daniel Markowitz, also known as "Wankee Doodle."

 PLAYING DRESS UP
 The San Francisco Harriers have added some spice to some of their runs. For instance, Bill Eral, "Naked Hasher," started the Black Leather Martini run where martinis join beer and the hashers dress in black leather while running through the streets of San Francisco searching for that trail of flour. "I have been a serious runner and I got tired of it. Now, I feel like I'm having a party (being on the hash)," Eral says. "I meet a lot of people not taking life too seriously. There's a priority in enjoying life. We all get too serious."

 The Red Dress run, which originated in San Diego, also takes on a theatrical life of its own when the participating men and the women wear red dresses. In addition, wigs are donned and stockings are streched to their maximum.

 The Hashers also attend the Bay to Breakers, or the "Gay to Flakers," as they call it. This event lasts the entire weekend with about 400 hashers from neighboring and worldwide hashes. They start their Friday night run with dancing and singing in Union Square. On Saturday, they run another trail and the evening ends with a disco, dinner, of course, beer. Then, they attend the Bay to Breakers marathon on Sunday and carry their float for the 7.46-mile route. They celebrate the end of the weekend with a picnic, barbecue and beer at Stow Lake in Golden Gate Park.

 Other hashes from around the world possess their own unique ways of hashing. For instance, in Hong Kong, a new hasher, or "newbiea," must undergo an initiation by pulling his or her pants down, sitting on a block of ice, and
 suffering while others pour water over them. In Antigua, the Hash Bash takes place on All Fools Day. "They have people volunteer to do acts, sing songs and skits," Evans says. "They are a bit rude and risque." In Bahrain, on
 "Australia Day," people had to drink their Down Downs upside down with someone holding their legs, says Maudlyn Evans, also known as "Snow White."

 ON IN!
 The party begins and the beer flows at the "On In," the spot where the race ends. The Down Downs commence as the Grand Master pulls out his Fist of Steel, which is really a fake, floppy, plastic hand that rests on a stick, and he waves it around. "We are going to be religious tonight and the Fist of Steel will preside over us," he says. Cook gets called over for his Down Down first.
 He steps up to the podium and the singing begins. With assurance, he takes hold of the silver beer bong and drinks until it is empty. Beers in hand, the crowds of drunk hashers cheer him on. After a few more Down Downs, Philkill (RA) calls over the Ex-Grand Master of 1989, "Scarface," and his wife, who wears new shoes. He is scorned upon for allowing his wife to wear new shoes. Philkill demands that she removes a shoe and sock, then takes a cup of beer and strains it through her dirty sock into her new shoe. Scarface is ordered to drink the brew from the shoe. He bravely accepts his punishment. After all, in the hash, anything goes.

on on

Paula Bodal

PS Paula is a journalism student at San Francisco State University and has hashed in both Bermuda and Antigua.  She is a reporter for the SFState newspaperand both her parents are both avid hashers. She visited the SFH3 several times with a photographer and several otehr collegues. We wish her all the best and hop[e that the hash sees her out and about soon ... Cumming Mutha