A PASSION FOR HASHING : Game of Hounds and Hares Provides Runaround

They’ve got code names like Flop-Flop, Deep Throat and Mighty Byte. They’ve got whistles around their necks, bunny ears on their heads and a passion for an action called hashing.

They’re the Orange County Hash House Harriers, a fun-running group so madcap, many Saturday morning cartoons seem sane in comparison.

Hashing, quite simply, is a version of an old English game, hounds and hares. Two or three hares start out 15 minutes ahead of the hounds, marking a trail with chalk, flour, or toilet paper.

Though the trail officially ends some four or five miles away, the hares set several false trails to lead the pack astray. Often, this means putting in a few extra miles before finding the finish.

When the front-running hashers become certain they’re tracking the right trail, whistles or bugles are blown to help the slower, back-of-the-pack hashers find the way. If one hasn’t a noise-maker, he simply shouts, “On-on!” indicating he is on trail.

This way, the entire hash is done with a team effort. There are no winners or losers, in fact, competition is forbidden. The only award given is the sacred hash house name, created by the group for each harrier after completion of his or her sixth hash.

Last Saturday morning, 40 Orange County hashers ran/walked/skipped their way on what they called a typical weekend hash. It went like this:

Onto a golf course, along a beach, across a hotel patio, into a housing tract, up a water tower, down three steep hillsides, over two fences, beside a seaside wedding, around a boat marina, across a deep, boat-filled, harbor channel . . .

“We get pretty weird and wild sometimes,” said John (Spyder) Jaeger, celebrating his 92nd hash in purple, green, and orange giraffe-patterned shorts and a white-and-blue-flowered polyester shirt. “But we love the attention.”

Despite his resemblance to a circus clown in running shoes, Jaeger, an Irvine industrial broker, has a serious commitment to the sport, er, hobby of hashing.

“I wear a suit every day of my life,” he said, warming up before the hash in Laguna Niguel. “I have to get out and get foolish once in awhile.”

Perhaps that was the reason the English army officers invented the hash in 1932, during their long military stays in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

According to hash historians, the officers wished to re-create a Monday evening hounds and hares club in order to dissipate the effects of weekend partying.

As it turned out, however, a great majority of their outings concluded at the door of The Hash House, a local Chinese pub. The name--and their traditional thirst for beer--stuck.

Despite their fluid intake, hashers have a very solid interest in, as they call it, the interhashional arena.

According to Harrier International magazine, there are over 50,000 hashers representing 650 clubs in 119 countries world-wide today.

“Last year, I racked up over 33,000 miles doing 125 runs with 15 different hash (clubs),” said Lt. Commander John (Deep Throat) Theroux, a 34-year-old Navy fighter pilot, who first hashed 16 months ago in Washington D.C.

“I’ve hashed in Chicago, Sydney, Melbourne, Tokyo, and all around the States. I’m going to Bali next year for the Interhash.”

Interhashes are scheduled every year, inviting hashers around the world to come celebrate their hash-hood in exotic locales such as Sri Lanka, Indonesia; Phuket, Thailand; Kathmandu, Nepal, or any other place where they’re able to run amok.

Maybe even your back yard.

“We don’t intentionally break (trespassing) laws,” Jaeger said. “But we like to run through scenic places and prominent places. If it happens that a hare’s trail takes you somewhere interesting, well, the show must go on.”

And what shows the hashers have staged.

--Two weeks ago, with Jaeger wearing the official hare’s bunny ears, the harriers were led through the Mall of Orange, the lobbies of the Anaheim Marriott and the Grand Hotel, and the employee entrance to the Disneyland parking lot.

Residential neighborhoods filled the miles in between, though a 30-foot high train trestle had to be crossed along the way.

When the trail led them to the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, few of the harriers hesitated--despite the fact a funeral was in progress--continuing along the chalked line around the perimeter of the cathedral grounds.

--Last Saturday, after running around the grounds of the Ritz-Carlton hotel and passing an open-air wedding above Dana Point harbor, the trail brought the hashers down to the marina and around to the harbor entrance.

After reaching the edge of the channel, the trail stopped. An arrow indicated it was a swim-or-sink situation.

Into the water they went, some dragging their shoes in plastic bags, some dragging each other.

A woman standing nearby said to her husband, “Look, it’s one of those triathlon things.”

Three young boys standing on the rock cheered for the hashers, supporting the mischief all the way to the other side.

A group of elderly folks sat on the benches behind them, waving their arms in amusement.

But one man--Sgt. Richard Powell of the Orange Co. Sheriff Dept.--was not amused.

“Those people are breaking the law and will receive citations for it,” he said, generating boos from the crowd. “The fire boat’s on its way now.”

The boat arrived, and Sheriff Deputies Ed Littlewort and Dick Cedarstaff tried to pull hashers from the water. Only one--Eric (The Marque de Sade) Edmunds--was snatched. The others swam to shore and to the finish, 100-yards to Doheny State Beach.

Edmunds, a Los Angeles trial lawyer, was brought to the other side of the channel and released, but not without a stern warning on the dangers of harbor swimming.

Later, Edmunds said, “I didn’t mind the swimming. In 150 hashes, it was my first water one. And it was hot. I was ready to get in the water anyway.”