Nothing says hashing like a ferry.
YH3 headed to the jetty and off on the regular passenger ferry to Dala. The hares were gracious enough to provide us with passage as well as the stern warning not to lose our tickets. Like hashers would do such a thing!
The run started out with a strange false trail. It was the sign of things to come. The majority of the run found hashers off paper, in villages, dodging motorcycles and being stared at by the locals. In other words, nothing new! In the end only the BRBs who were smart enough to wait for the hares’ instructions were able to stick to the real route.
All hashers made it to the ferry to get back to Yangon (or so we think) for a lovely circle which was crashed by a random loud American who didn’t pay for her beer. The hash is not a charity!
Namings and songs, all the usual fun. For some reason Barefooot insisted on wearing his headlamp through out the process.