A tough old lady

The last week has been difficult for me, but my problems are nothing when compared to what my 87 year old mother has been through.

Last Sunday (16th September) at about 6pm while walking from her kitchen to her living room my mother slipped on some water on her kitchen floor and as far as I can tell did a classic "prat fall" landing on her bottom.

She spent the next 19 hours on the floor.

She could crawl around using her elbows and dragging her legs behind her but she couldn't get up. She wasn't wearing her alarm button to call for help and she couldn't reach the phones. She managed to get some coats out of the cupboard under the stairs and used them to keep herself warm through the night.

Eventually at 1pm the next day a man called to deal with a wasp nest in her roof. He rang the doorbell but didn't hear my mother shouting for help. Fortunately he decided to get on with the job anyway and when he climbed his ladder at the back of the house he glanced into the kitchen and spotted my mother on the floor in the hall. He then went round to the front door again and this time heard my mother and she told him that she had fallen and couldn't get up. He alerted Peter the next-door neighbour and Peter called an ambulance and then, as he is an emergency keyholder opened the door and went and helped my mother.

The ambulance people were excellent and got my mother to her feet after checking there was nothing broken. They wanted to take her to hospital for a proper check over and an X-ray but my mother refused. She told them she didn't like hospitals, and she later told me that she could have gone to hospital in that state as she felt very dirty having been on the floor all night!

I wish the tale ended there, but my mother was very shaken up. I went over immediately I heard, and stayed with her on Monday and Tuesday and my brother Richard and his wife Carolyn took over looking after her until Saturday when I returned.

To start with she seemed OK, just a bit stiff and sore. But she was having real problems getting in and out of bed and was obviously in considerable pain. She was examined by several doctors over the week and she was prescribed paracetamol and ibuprofen as pain killers. These really didn't help her.

The District Nurse, Francis, an excellent chap from Hong Kong, suggested on Wednesday that my mother should go into a local old people's home for a couple of weeks. This suggestion was not well received. Nevertheless Francis contacted the Home and confirmed they did have a vacancy. Both Richard and I went down and checked the place out and it seemed to us to be fine.

Initially my mother would having nothing to do with the suggestion, but as time went by she realised she couldn't cope without having someone to look after her; to get her in and out of bed and up and down the stairs, and as she has no downstairs loo this was a frequent and important task. She gave in and agreed to give the Home a try, provided that she didn't go in until after her birthday on Sunday when she would be 87 years old. It was a good compromise.

When I returned on Saturday after a couple of days R&R I was surprised to discover that (a) my mother had taken to her bed (something she would only do in extremis) and (b) she was worse than ever.

I cannot describe here the hell of Saturday night - she was in so much pain. I called the out of hours doctor early on Sunday morning and we had a visit from a doctor at about 10am on Sunday. He thoroughly examined her for a broken hip and found nothing. He said she needed an X-ray in the not to distant future, but it wasn't urgent as he was sure she hadn't broken anything. He finally took my and my mothers claims of pain seriously when I said she was in 'screaming agony' and he quipped 'is she waking the neighbours then'. When I replied 'No, but she woke me last night with her shouts of pain' he suddenly took us seriously and the prescription was duly issued - for MORPHINE and DIAZAPAM! I was stunned but pleased too that he had finally given my mother something that could tackle the pain.

Once she had taken a diazapam her birthday really took off and we had an excellent day. My mother got lots of cards and presents and quite a few calls and visitors. Richard laid on an excellent lunch (though as usual my mother ate virtually nothing).

After the party was over and the last visitor had gone home my mother went back to bed, and despite the morphine and diazapam the nightmare of Saturday night was repeated on Sunday night. I was at my wits end by Monday morning. I phoned my sister Denise and she came round and helped me and my mother to get organised. Despite her protests Denise and I packed a suitcase and a few personal belongings and with a stony heart I delivered her to the Home.

Vi, the manager who had visited my mother on Thursday was shocked to see such a deterioration in my mothers condition. We got my mother to her room and Denise and I unpacked. Almost immediately there was a knock on the door and a nurse enquired if my mother wanted a cup of tea. To my surprise she asked for half a cup of coffee. To my even greater surprise she drank the full cup of coffee she was given and 2 biscuits. She then after I left had 2 more cups and 2 more biscuits and then even had the cornish pastie she was offered for supper - more food than she had eaten in the past 3 days I think.

She is settling in well - I have spoken to her and to Vi today. Vi has let her stay in her room and has "had a bit of a tussle about breakfast" but is insisting that my mother eats properly and is going to insist she dresses and socialises with the rest of the residents tomorrow.

Fingers crossed - but the old lady has surprised us all once again.

One thing I was once again forced to acknowledge is that my mothers perception of priorities is very different to mine. When I talked to her about her ordeal on the floor I was stunned to hear that at about 1am she had crawled into the living room and switched off the TV. When I asked her why she did that she said "I didn't want to disturb the neighbours". When I asked her why she didn't tip over the flimsy table in the living room that had a phone on it she replied "I was afraid of breaking the lamp".

Oh, and by the way, yes, she still is not smoking!

Peurto Vallarta - Part 2 - IAH07 (last bit)

Monday 3rd September 2007

I was covered in cuts and bruises on Monday from the Ball Buster and decided to forgo the final hangover run on Monday morning despite the promises of it being a short trail around the beach and hotel. I hung out around the pool with Yark, Rumble and Cosmo Monday 3rd September 2007 I was covered in cuts and bruises on Monday from the Ball Buster and decided to forgo the final hangover run on Monday morning despite the promises of it being a short trail around the beach and hotel. I hung out around the pool with Yark, Rumble and Cosmo

and then watched the down-downs and circle after the run.

I took it pretty easy most of the day, but in the afternoon there was a Post IAH party hosted by the Toronto “Hog Town Hash” down at a bar called “Si Senor” in the centre of town. It was pretty busy, in the bar which was on multiple levels up the side of a hill we drank for several hours until the beer ran out. I then led a group of friends including Yark, Rumple, Lick’mm, Lonely Brain Cell, Cosmo and many others down to the Burro Bar (where I had studied for my PADI exam).

It was a little further than I remembered, so I got teased about how far it was and the fact I kept on saying the bar was only a few more metres away. When we eventually got there we were givien a great table right down on the beach. We had a load more beers and margaritas as well as some excellent shrimp. The weather was still a bit cloudy and there was a heavy surf.

For some reason I decided it would be a good idea to go for a swim in this 2 metre surf; I stripped down to my underwear and ran down the beach and plunged into the water. Almost immediately I was bowled off my feet and knocked around a bit by the huge waves – it was very very exciting! When the waves retreated and left me on the beach I retreated a little way up shore and was surprised to hear English accents – there were 3 girls also trying to swim in this crazy surf and they were students from London working with a charity helping local kids. After a brief chat with them I plunged back into the waves. I got a bit further out when the next wave got me – it turned me head over heels several times before depositing me on my feet on the beach facing inland – all my friends thought it was some kind of trick and applauded!

I decided to have one more attempt to get out into the waves and to do some body surfing. This time I timed my entry carefully ducked under one wave and finally got out beyond the surf line. I waited for the next big wave and as it passed me started swimming for the shore to body surf in – but I overshot and fell off the front of the wave (all 2 metres of it) and landed head first in about 25 cms of water as the wave then broke over me and bounced me up and down on the bottom.

I honestly wondered if I was going to drown and I remember thinking it would be rather ironic to drown on a beach having just passed my PADI certification. After a few more bangs on the head and right shoulder the wave retreated leaving me gasping and coughing sitting in the sand. I decided I had had enough and went back to my friends. Only then did I discover that I had cut my forehead – fortunately it was only a graze but it did bleed quite spectacularly.

After a few more drinks we left the Burro Bar and I lead my friends down to the other beach bar close to my first hotel where I had a much need coffee and a not so much needed brandy. I was amazed to find other hashers already there.

We had a fine time and at some stage I decided it was time to head back to the hotel leaving the hardier and less foolish members of the party to do a pub-crawl around the town.

Tuesday 4th September 2007

When I woke up I realised I hurt even more than I had done on Monday as well as all the damage to my body from the Ball Breakers run I had added a sore shoulder, a cut head and a very sore left foot (I had torn open a whole load of blisters in the surf the night before). I was in a real mess.

I went to Starbucks for breakfast and to check out my emails on their free wireless internet. On the way there I saw a couple of huge iguanas that lived in the tree outside the Krystal Hotel. I tried to get some shots of them using my mobile phone but their camouflage meant I got some great pictures of the tree.

I hobbled down to the hotel around lunchtime as Higgins was holding a birthday party in his suite (which had a pool). This time because I had my camera the iguanas were nowhere to be seen. I started off very quietly at the party sitting inside in the cool as I was feeling more than a little fragile. The main party was in the pool and eventually after taking a few photos I did go in myself.


It was a great party!

Later on Hemmy invited most of us on a pub-crawl stag and hen party downtown as he and Oily Hole were soon to be married. I visited a couple of bars with the rest of the crowd, but my heart wasn’t into partying for some strange reason so I left them to it and headed back to the hotel.

Wednesday 12th September 2007

If anything I felt even more beaten up and battered when I woke up. My left foot was extremely painful and I seemed to be unable to lift my right arm anywhere above horizontal. I wandered down to EZ Over’s suite as Hemmy’s and Oily’s Hash Wedding was to be held there. As I arrived a “Diva” hash run was leaving. I hobbled along behind round the mercifully short trail around the hotel to the beach where all sorts of shenanigans went on including a couple of renamings and a his and her strip-o-grams for Hemmy and Oily Then it was back to the pool of the hash wedding. As well as my photos below one of the other guests took some video and has posted it on YouTube






After the ceremony everyone was kitted out in identical teeshirts – a tuxedo teeshirt for the men and a wedding dress teeshirt for the ladies
and then we all took cabs downtown to the Blue Shrimp a great bar where Hemmy and Oily Hole had laid on an excellent reception with a load of beer and magnificent and plentiful shrimps. We had a great time, especially because of the wacky decorations… The place was done out like it was underwater – the entrance to the ladies loo got a whole load of unrepeatable comments made about it!
(inside the gents)

the ladies

the roof of the restaurant

The party stated to pall on me – I was getting hot and felt the need for a change of scenery, so I left about 6pm and went and did some souvenir shopping and then feeling odd I decided I must be hungry and went for some ribs – which I couldn’t eat. I took a taxi back to the hotel and almost immediately I got there I started feeling terrible and without going into the gory details realised that I was suffering from Montezuma’s Revenge. It was a long and unpleasant night. I managed to get some Sprite from the hotel bar and spent most of the night either sipping on that or in the toilet pointing one end of my body or the other at the loo. At around 10:30pm I was sitting in bed when I felt it move about 3 inches in one direction and then back again. “Earthqake!” I thought – but there was no noise, no screaming, and nothing fell down – so I decided it was me that was wobbling rather than the room. It was only a week later that I discovered that it really was an earthquake (see news article).

Thursday 6th September 2007

On Wednesday I was really worried that I would be too sick to travel home, but I was feeling a lot better when I woke up on Thursday. I packed and having an hour to kill went round to the Krystal to see who else was around.

EZ Over and Spare Rib were in evidence as was Higgins, but everyone seemed to be strangely quiet. I bade them farewell and headed back to my hotel, checked out and went to the airport. I even remembered to pick up my diving DVD – I posted the edited highlights in another blog. The flights back to UK via Dallas were uneventful really. My stomach behaved (most of the time) and I reached cloudy old England on Friday morning having been subjected to 3 more showings of “Shrek the Third” on the in-flight movie.

I don’t think you will be surprised to hear that I needed quite some time to recuperate from my adventures!

Peurto Vallarta - Part 2 - IAH07 (next bit)

Sunday 2nd September 2007

On Friday I had received an email from EZ Over asking me if I would help set the trail on the “Ball Breaker Run”. Every hash event has one really long run for the masochists and IAH07 was no exception. On the registration form it asked if you wanted to sign up for the Ball Breaker and I thought “No thank you” when I registered, but being a pushover when asked nicely by a lady I replied “OK”.

At some stage during Saturday evening I had a chat with her and about 5 other lunatics who had agreed to help out on the run. The run was meant to be a joint Mexico City H3 and Brussels Manneke Piss H3 trail with EZ Over as a member of both hashs leading the show, but as she explained she had got gravel in her shoes when setting the Friday trail (from wading through the rivers) and has scoured holes in both her Achilles tendons, so she asked me (from BMPH3) and Haemorrhoid, another American from Mexico City whose name I forget, and a very fit looking hasher from Denver who had been a hare on the Iguana Trail with the wonderful hash name of “Barely Man Below”. The trail sounded fairly straight forward when being discussed over a beer or two, and somehow I remembered to set my alarm for 7:30am and so I found myself in the IAH2008 presentations in the conference hall adjoining my hotel at 8:00am with only a cup of coffee for breakfast

Spare Rib handed me a fluorescent hare’s jacket and said it was time to go, just as the hilarious bid by the Rumson H3 started. They bid every year with no intention of winning.

We (Spare Rib, Haemorrhoid, the other MCH3 hare, Barely Man Below and I) climbed into a large RV and headed for the hills. We drove to what was meant to be the end of the run (it was an A to B run) in a little village in a Bay called “Boca Somethingorother”. There we met our two local guides. The idea was that we should split up with to of us setting the trail backwards from Boca (lets call that Point B)

to a spot further along the coast called Las Animas (Point C)

and the other two to set the trail from the start further inland (Point A)

out past the ranch belonging to one of our two guides down to Las Animas. We would meet up at Las Animas (Point C) at around noon-ish, take a water taxi back to Boca (Point B) and then go back to the hotel to collect the runners at 2pm for the run to start at 2:30pm.

A good plan; the only problem was, none of us knew how LONG the trail was going to be. The guides seemed to be very vague about it. The ranch owner was clear that the trail “A” to his ranch was 5kms, and then the distance from his ranch to Las Animas (“C”), well, that was “only a kilometre” and the other guide said he had walked from Las Animas (“C”) to Boca (“B”) in under an hour.

This meant we had a seriously short Ball Buster trail – or so we thought. It was decided that each team needed a Spanish speaker, so the other MCH3 and Barely Man Below formed one team and Haemorrhoid and I the other. Spare Rib was to stay with the car and ferry us around. Haemorrhoid and I were to be driven to “A” while the other two and their guide were to start in Boca (“B”).

Each of us was given a bottle of water and each team 3 bags of flour and off we went. Point A was just a lay-by in the road with some very bashed in gates leading to a trail. In the excitement neither Hemmy or I managed to remember to pick up our bottles of water – a big mistake. Off we went having checked our watches – it was 10am. We had plenty of time… or so we thought. It wasn’t an easy trail to set as the track to the ranch had very few turnings. We had been going about 10 minutes when the landowner went past us in his Jeep 4x4. He stopped and chatted to Hemmy before heading off down the track to his ranch where he said he would meet us. We walked and talked scattering blobs of flour as we went and sure enough after about an hour we got to the ranch.

Here we said hello to the ranch owner’s family and then walked down to the coral where we were to be pointed in the direction of the path, allegedly used by the family to collect fish on a regular basis from Las Animas. We were just about to set off when the Ranch Owner had a change of heart.

“I’ll come with you, otherwise you will get lost. Hang on a moment and I will go and get my machete.”

So after a few minutes the three of us set off with the Ranch Owner swinging away at the undergrowth. The going got hard immediately and stayed that way. We wandered up hill and down dale for kilometre after kilometre. We had been going about 45 minutes when I asked Hemmy to ask the Ranch Owner how much further. There was a long discussion in Spanish and eventually Hemmy said “He says it is another half an hour to the house and then it is a kilometre from there”. “What house?” I asked. “There is a house on route and then it is a short walk to Las Animas”. “Oh, OK”…

So on we plunged through washed out paths that had turned into cliffs along riverbeds and through a lot of jungle complete with vicious creeper thorns we used to call Razor Creeper or “Stay Awhile Creeper” in Malaysia. Pretty soon both Hemmy and I were bleeding from our lacerated shins. And still we walked and walked and walked. Given that we were in the middle of nowhere there was a lot of barbed wire around. Deviding the jungle and pastures up into large plots. Fortunately there were improvised barbed wire gates in the fences made up of a series of posts connected by the barbed wire that were tied at either end to fixed posts. The Ranch Owner was very keen to impress upon us how important it was to keep these gates shut. Hemmy and I both nodded in agreement and both privately wondered how likely it was that they would be closed by the pack.

Both Hemmy and I were seriously thirsty so it was quite a relief to see the Ranch Owner stop for a drink from a small stream. He said the water was clean and safe – we didn’t need telling twice and both had a good drink. That helped a lot, so our only worry then was the amount of flour we had left. It was rapidly disappearing and turning into a horrid paste at the same time, but on we plunged across a plateau where donkeys and cows were grazing. Again we asked the Ranch Owner how much further it was – “Just over that hill, but it is the worst bit…” and on we went with the Ranch Owner still hacking away at the jungle.

Eventually at about 1:45pm we spied ‘the house’. As we approached it turned out that it was a long low shed with a barn at one end and some sort of shack at the other. The occupants, two very drunk wild-eyed Mexicans turned out to greet us. I was glad I was with a couple of friendly locals as these two didn’t look particularly friendly. One of them, the leader, immediately reminded me of of ‘Gold Hat’ from ‘The Treasure of the Sierra Madre’.
(Gold Hat from The Treasure of Sierra Madre)
("Hai don' want your stinkin' badges...") except he didn’t have the moustache, sombrero or bandalelros (but otherwise he was the spitting image – honest!).

Gold Hat and his cross-eyed friend were surprised to hear what we were up to. He asked us in for some tequila and then apparently offered to sell Hemmy a donkey, Hemmy declined each offer. When he asked him for water the reply was “There is plenty of water falling from the sky” and Gold Hat was right, there was – it had been raining gently almost since we set off from the car (thank goodness). So we then asked if had any flour as the last grains had been used as we walked up to his gate “Sure, I’ll sell you a bag,” he said, “only 80 Peso”. Given that a bag of flour costs about 8 Peso in the supermarket it was a bargain (we were in no position to negotiate and he knew it). All we had between us was a rather soggy 200 Peso note in my back pocket. Gold Hat made change giving me an odd assortment of grubby notes from his none too clean trousers including a $1 bill.

“Las Animas is just half an hour away down that trail” Gold Hat said pointing off through his rubbish dump into the jungle. Hemmy and I left the Ranch Owner chatting to Gold Hat and his chum and started along the trail that almost immediately started going down hill. It was immediately clear that Gold Hat and his chum used donkeys on this trail – it was almost vertical and nearly impassable on foot. It descended at an amazing rate down very heavily eroded muddy gullies lined with nothing but vicious thorn trees. It was hell! We stopped frequently at streams that intersected the trail too cool down, but remembering that Gold Hat’s rather dirty farm was at the top of the hill neither of us were tempted to drink from them.

Eventually, after over an hour slipping and sliding down hill, I came out into the open right by the ocean. Hemmy was about 5 minutes behind me. I was again almost completely out of flour, and was therefore greatly relieved when I came across the other the trail that must have been set by the hares who set off from Point B.

It was now 2:45pm, so it was no surprise to find no trace of the other two. We staggered along the beach to a bar where I used all but 20 Peso of my remaining money to buy some much needed water and beer.

Hemmy and I sat too stunned to talk for a while. When the effects of the rehydration started to cut in we congratulated each other on surviving and agreed that only a madman would run the trail we had just set. As we sat there shaking our heads and wondering what had happened to the other hares and when the poor fools following our trail would appear, we saw a water taxi approach the beach and the two people aboard start to unload boxes of beer and water. It was the other two hares!

We limped down the beach and discovered that they had wisely decided that it wasn’t safe to start the pack off from Point A as they assumed that we were probably lost in the jungle or dead and sending the pack off to follow us wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead they had started the trail from Boca (Point B) and had taken a water taxi with the water and beer to Las Animas to set up either a Beer Stop, or if we weren’t there the end of the trail (using water taxis to get the pack back to Point B if necessary).

They told us that despite 120 people registering to run the Ball Breaker only 32 had turned out to run it – that was a relief. They estimated it would take the pack about another 45 minutes to get there, their leg of the trail being about 8kms. Hemmy and I described the trail we had set and the other two hares fresh from a long break decided to set off and reset it so it could be run backwards, so that the end of the trail would be Point A. I promised to try to persuade as many of the pack as possible not to run the trail and that Hemmy and I would accompany any drop-outs on the water taxi back to point B where we would then take the coach to Point A.

So off they went. Hemmy and I sat on the beach guarding the beer in the gentle rain, and as predicted, about 45 minutes later the pack plus Spare Rib in a hare’s jacket arrived. We let them have a drink and relax for 15 minutes and then I read them the riot act. I asked them if they had written their wills. I described how to deal with the thorns and creepers and showed them my cuts, insect bites and bruises. I told them it would be not be a disgrace to give up now, rather it would be the sensible thing to do as the Ranch the next drink stop was about 3 hours away and they would take over 4 hours to reach the end of the trail. Given that it was now about 3:45pm it would be getting dark as they approached the end of the trail and that there was a high probability that they would all get lost en route. I managed to persuade 6 runners to quit there and then. I escorted the other madmen to the start of the trail and counted them out wishing them good luck.

As I walked back to the beer stop I started worrying about the trail and the pack and all the things I had forgotten to tell them, like about the fences and gates, and that there was no one acting as a ‘sweeper’ to find the lost souls at the back. I decided that if there was any water left back at the beach I would take a bottle and follow the trail. As I was sure there wasn’t an water I was sure it would be OK and I would be able to go back on the water taxi as planned. I told Spare Rib that I had seen 27 hashers off on trail and then said “Got any water?” “Sure”, he said, “here”. So true to my word I then told him that I was going to follow the pack. He and Hemmy tried to persuade me not to go, but my mind was made up.

I started climbing and it was even tougher than I expected! I found stout pole at the side of the trail, just the right size to be a walking stick and that really helped. I had been climbing for about 10 minutes when I was surprised to see a hasher coming the other way. “You are right” he said “it is too tough. I’m going back to the beach." I told him to hurry as the others were about to set off. I asked if he had any money and he said he had, so I told him to get a water taxi to Boca where he would find the others. I forgot to ask him his name. He was never seen again!

A little while later I passed another hasher who said his name was “Sin D Bear”. He said he was having problems because of a hangover and old shoes. I asked him why on earth he was doing the trail. He mumbled something and kept on going. A little while later while I paused for breath on the steepest part of the trail he passed me and I didn’t see him again. I later discovered he caught up with the rest of the pack which at that stage was only about 5 minutes ahead and told them I was following.

Further along the trail I met Gold Hat and his chum on their donkeys in their “Sunday best” obviously going to Las Animas for a night out. He looked puzzled as we had told him we would be coming from the other direction. He said something like ‘Que passa?’ At that moment I couldn’t remember a word of Spanish so I just smiled like an idiot an carried on up the trail. He laughed like a madman and carried on down the trail – I caught the words “Loco” and “Gringo” as he and his cross-eyed chum descended on their tiny donkeys.

Finally I reached Gold Hat’s rubbish dump and the edge of the jungle. There sitting on the trail was a young chap who turned out to be a 25 year old Marine Sergeant with the hash name of “A Salt My Ass”. He was exhausted. So after a short break we set off together. It was good to have someone to tackle the trail with, but on two occasions we were so busy chatting that we wandered off trail for over 10 minutes before realising it. Thereafter we agreed to sing out “On On” each time we found a flour blob. The trail just went on and on and several times we lost it completely having to check in all directions to find it. ASMA asked a couple of times how much further it was. I always replied, “Oh, about 20 minutes or so”. The third time I answered that way he realised I didn’t have the first idea, so on we walked – running was out of the question at this stage. We stopped at a little stream and filled our water bottles and each drank about a litre of water. That made a huge amount of difference to both of us, but ASMA in particular. He was rushing off in all directions to find trail at each check, but I was pleased that he didn’t run off and leave me. Finally I started to recognise features from near the Ranch and then we heard a distant call of “On On!”. We replied and within 15 minutes found Hemmy down by the coral close to the Ranch. He gave us some water and told us that there was no more water at the ranch as the car Spare Rib was driving wasn’t a 4x4 and couldn’t make some of the hills. Down at the Ranch we met Spare Rib. He was worried about tackling the hills in the dark (it was now about 7:15pm) and suggested he and ASMA ran back to the car. To my surprise I felt like running too, so jogged along behind them. At the car there were two other hashers who had only just come through. There wasn’t enough room in the car for all of us so Spare Rib suggested that they should walk the remaining 4kms or so to the coach. ASMA and I on the otherhand agreed that as we had got this far we weren’t about to give up now, so we followed them and Spare Rib drove past us with just Hemmy on board.

We caught up with the car on the next hill – it couldn’t get up it. After a lot of burnt clutch and a bit of pushing from everyone but me (I was too tired) the car got to the top of the hill and gave the other two hashers a lift. ASMA and I just jogged along for the next 4Kms and eventually arrived at the end of the trail to find the car stuck again. We ran past it to the gates were we were welcomed with a huge cheer by the rest of the pack. I looked at my watch, it was 8pm, or 10 hours since I had last been here.

Once Hemmy got the car up the final hill the circle was reformed and the hares received multiple down-downs. Everyone loved the trail – they were all clearly mad. Eventually we were moved on by the local constabulary. I decided to travel back to the hotel in the coach as there was more room as I was getting quite a lot of cramp by this stage.

I am not sure exactly how long the trail was, but I have managed to approximate some of it using Google Earth.

If Point A to the Ranch was 5 kms then the Ranch to Point C must be around 10 kms, through jungle... If you would like a close look then click here to down load the files. (I recommend you use the tilt view from Point C to see how steep that hill was.)

We had a great sing-song in the coach led by Barely Man Below. When we got back to the hotel I returned to my room and had a shower. My legs were in a bad way and I had huge cuts on my Achilles tendons because of the grit that had got into my shoes on trail. Afterwards rather than eating at the Krystal I went across the road to the “Outback” steak restaurant. While we had been walking ASMA and I had agreed that what we really needed was a steak and he recommended the Outback. I joined him and two other victims of the trail at the bar and ate myself to a standstill – wonderful.

Afterwards we went across the road to the Christine disco where the hash ball was underway. As the theme was “Rocky Horror Picture Show” there were loads of cross dressers and people in white lab coats and Y fronts. I couldn’t get a drink as the bar was about 5 deep and the as noise was overpowering I decided not to stay and went back to my room for a much needed night’s sleep.

The next day the IAH07 Mismangement awarded me and Barely Man Below a commemorative bottle of tequla each for all our efforts...

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Peurto Vallarta - Part 2 - IAH07 (first bit)

This blog covers what I did during the Inter Americas Hash 2007 in Puerto Vallarta.

Friday 31st August 2007

My room at the new hotel, the Hacienda Hotel and Spa was very comfortable with a huge bed,

large bathroom (importantly as I was due to spend a lot of time there towards the end of the holiday)

and a nice balcony (where I could dry my manky hash gear).

view from the balcony.

Having got settled in to the hotel and had a light lunch in the restaurant and then I donned proper hash gear and the name-tags (for reasons too complicated to go into here I had two name-tags) I had been given

and went round to the Krystal to see what was happening.

There were a load of people drinking a load of beer and that was just in reception. I found out that there was a run in the afternoon, just a single runsite, with supposedly a long and short run from it. The description said “You will get wet”. I decided to go back to the room and change into wet run gear – that means a tee-shirt that doesn’t get too heavy and rub on the nipples (ouch) and also to pack my rucksack with suitable gear for the run. I packed a spare set of shoes, a complete change of clothes, a towel (I agree with Douglas Adams – never travel anywhere without a towel), my camera, mosquito repellent, suntan lotion, bite cream, mobile phone, and a raincoat (well it had rained a lot). The rucksack was a little heavy, but at least I would be ready for anything.

I trolled back to the Krystal and after a lot of resistance (well, no, actually almost immediately) I had a beer or two. Spare Rib was one of the hares, as was his wife EZ Over. I found him and asked him about the trail. He was a little vague about what and where it was, but told me EZ Over was still out setting it and as I trust her I relaxed. Around 4pm the buses arrived and I climbed onto one of the first of them. The journey was satisfyingly short. We took the bypass round PV and then before we reached THE TUNNEL we turned left and went inland.

I’ve just realised I’ve not mentioned THE TUNNEL. PV is squished between the Sierra Madre and the sea, so if you want to go across town you either go along the shoreline through the downtown area or if you are ever so brave, you take THE TUNNEL. It is simply a tunnel dug through a hill round the back of PV… but… there is no lighting in the tunnel, there is no ventilation in the tunnel, there are bends in the tunnel and there are hundreds of Mexicans in badly maintained cars and lorries in the tunnel. In a taxi it was good training for my diving. How long can you hold your breath? I didn’t quite make it any time I went through the tunnel and ended up choking on the almost solid air about 100 metres short of the exit. In the centre of the tunnel the air is an iridescent blue colour and so thick you can feel it as it scours at your face (all the taxis have all their windows open all of the time).

Anyway, we turned off about 250 metres short of the tunnel up a road I had spotted as I gasped for air as we came through The Tunnel as I moved from the Emperador to the Hacienda that morning. As I enjoyed the relatively clean air as we jumped the traffic lights just beyond the skid pan at the end of the tunnel (not an exaggeration, as the road leaves the tunnel there is a sharp right hand bend and the road is covered in mud and sand, everyone does a controlled rear wheel skid around the corner) I saw the turning and with my “Hash Brain” engaged I thought “I wonder where that goes”, and now I was about to find out.

The bus couldn’t go very far up the road. We stopped outside a waterworks and then someone said – don’t leave anything on the bus as it is going back to pick up the next lot of runners. So I picked up my rucksack and almost doubled under its weight went out to find one of the hares. To my relief I immediately found EZ Over. “Where can I leave my rucksack?” I asked here. “Oh shit, I knew I had forgotten something” was the reply. “Sorry sweetie, you will gave to carry it”… Not being a complainer I just swallowed hard and carried on trotting up the hill and over a bridge. I knew given the heat this wouldn’t be much of a run and now I was carrying a 10kg pack it was going to be a bit of a walk rather than a run.

The trail followed the river up through a village and then out into the jungle. It was so much like being back in Malaysia I had to pinch myself to remind myself where I was. The road, or rather, trail as it was very much a 4WD trail by now started to be crossed by a number of stream. I plunged in on every occasion knowing that cold running shoes can make a lot of difference when it is in the 90’s (both temperature and humidity) but I had to laugh at the Yanks dancing around the puddles. I walked a lot and eventually teamed up with a little chap who (to me at least) looked a little older than me. We chatted and walked trotting down the down hill bits together until I had a rush of blood to the head and left him standing on a hill. We climbed and climbed and climbed. The hares hadn’t been very inventive and just stuck to the track with a few checks and false trails off it that no one bought. We came to a ford where the track crossed the stream we had been following. I took my pack off and sat in the cool clear water and watched the back of the pack go through. There had been a joke email going around about a bug in PV that swims up men’s willies and eats their balls, so the majority of the hashers were treating the water like it was sulphuric acid. When one or two of them asked me about the wisdom of sitting in such dangerous waters up to my chest I simply replied “Why are there so many Mexicans if the rumour is true?” A lot of them nodded but still kept out of the water.

Refreshed by my 5 minutes in the water I stormed up the rest of the trail to the beer stop, a cabin on the trail that had plenty of bottled water and cold beer.


I met up with my friend from the BMPH3, Weenie Schnitzel who had gamely offered to carry my pack on the way up.


The butterflies in the place were incredible. A jackfruit tree had dropped one of its football sized fruits and they and the flies were making a big deal out of it.


It turned out that because of the rain the hares had abandoned a proper home trail. They had planned to take us back down the river on the way home, but all the rain had precluded that as the river was a lot higher and it wasn’t safe to take hundreds of unfit Americans down it.

Refreshed Weenie and I set off back down the trail. We ran together until we came across Lick’mm an old friend from Switzerland and the BMPH3. Weenie and I chatted to Lick’mm for a while until the running bug hit me again and I hitched up the rucksack and carried on running down hill. When I reached the ford I again stopped. I had put an ice cold beer in the rucksack and I sat in the water up to my neck watching people struggling up and down the hill until the can was empty and then it was “On On” down the hill to the end. Most people I passed yelled encouragement as I ran past them, but I was surprised by some of the abuse I got from some of the hashers “I hope your knees burst” was one curse I heard as I ran past – odd people…

Back at the bridge close to the end of the trail the hares were once again in evidence. The trail was to end here and there was a bar just above the bridge serving free beer for all hashers.

I went in and dumped the rucksack and cooled off again in the river.
Once close to blood heat again I wandered around and was amazed when I ran across Patsy someone I knew from Malaysia. She didn’t recognise me, but then again Patsy was never known for her intellect. She would get lost 100 yards from her own house in KL, but nevertheless it was nice to see her again.

Eventually it was time to pour ourselves back into the buses and head back to the Krystal hotel. I found my Belgium buddies, Dr PP, Yark Sucker and Rumple Foreskin close to the pool.

I was hungry and I was really pleased to discover that the food laid on by the Hash was fantastic. I gorged myself on ribs, shrimp and streak and the sat zombie like staring at the pool. Eventually Weenie and Maximus (another friend from Brussels) came over and said “Aren’t you going to come for a swim?” It seemed like a good idea so I stripped down to my running shorts and went in.

Things are ‘kinda blurry’ (my lawyer told me to use this phrase) thereafter but I do remember all sorts of shots, buying a round, female nudity in the pool and it pouring with rain. Somehow around midnight I decided I was getting too cold and it was time to go. I found Rumple and Yark hobbling towards the exit (Yark had broken her leg 4 weeks prior to the IAH07) so I accompanied them. Fortunately for me they too were staying at the Hacienda…

Saturday 1st September 2007

Now in retrospect my first conscious memories are of me having breakfast back at the Krystal, though I am sure I had a good night’s sleep and a shower and shave back in my room. I found the WiFi hot spot in the hotel and was charged for the privilege of using it, but I did at least manage to phone my mother back in England using Skype and check my emails.

Afterwards I paid a visit to the Hash Bazaar and bought myself a great tee-shirt which says "Math is hard, hashing is simple" on the back (yes I know, I would prefer it to say "Maths" too, but I was with Americans) and a IAH07 baseball cap . I then just had time to go and return my p.c. to my room and prepare for the Hash – this time I would take absolutely nothing I didn’t need with me and certainly no pack and then it was time to try to start to get on a run.

The first coaches were leaving at 11:30 for various runsites, but I had been told the best run was going to be at El Eden the set used in the Schwarzenegger movie Predator . Unfortunately there was only meant to be one bus there, and it was meant to be one of the last buses departing at 13:00. I went out to the front of the hotel and found the large group waiting for the El Eden bus. There was clearly more than a bus full of people waiting, and we all knew that, so things were a little tense when the bus arrived. I managed to get one of the last seats, right in the back row of the bus. The driver made it very clear that he would not go anywhere with people standing, so about 20 or so disappointed hashers had to get off. One really desperate individual locked himself in the coach’s very smelly toilet and rode in there for the whole trip up to El Eden! There was a near riot as we pulled away, and apparently as a result the mismanagement managed to find 2 more coaches for the run. These immediately filled and we ended up in a convoy for the journey to the runsite (see My Google Map).

This run was being put on by the Iguana Hash House Harriers, a travelling hash with a reputation… Worryingly they marked all Iguana virgins (including me) with a V on his or her forehead…

The turning from the main road towards El Eden quickly lost all hardtop and seemed to be more like a sandy riverbed than a proper road. The buses parked under a large rain tree on the outskirts of a small village. The Hares gave us a short briefing and then requested a 15 minute start and went of laying a live trail. After about 10 minutes we got bored and started off after them. Pleasingly the trail headed straight to the river and stayed in the river. That certainly kept things nice and cool, but the river was in full spate, so quite a few hashers had early and unexpected baths not to mention knocks and bruises. The trail petered out at a lovely pool around which there were a couple of restaurants and over which there was a bridge. There was a lot of cursing and searching (I was amongst the Front Runners) while the rest of the runners caught up with us and someone eventually said “There is a tequila in the car park”…

The Hare who was handing out the local hooch (which I decided to forgo) said that this was the end of the trail, but those who wanted to could hike up a mile or so to the Predator filmset.

Almost everyone decided to go up and have a look. It was a long hard climb up in the baking sunshine. When I got to the top I was surprised to find a large car park with a lot of very normal looking saloon cars parked there. The road looked almost impassable for 4WD to me. Anyway I went down to the river and plunged in. There was a nice pool at the foot of a large waterfall.
(not my photos)

Some local kids were using this as a watershoot. It looked like suicide to me and I decided to give that a miss. I pressed on up the river to the pool above the waterfall and plunged in there up to my neck and stayed there to cool down for about 10 minutes. Several hashers passed me pressing on trying to find the filmset. I must admit I had problems seeing what the fuss was about.
There was meant to be a helicopter, waterfalls, aerial ropeways (zip lines), etc etc, and I had seen nothing more than a bar, and as I had no money on me that wasn’t very interesting, so I headed back to the coaches and the joys of the packed lunch. It took me 40 minutes to get back to the raintree. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water, a beer and the packed lunch. The water was much needed, the beer excellent, and the packed lunch a terrible disappointment: an apple, a couple of very sweet cereal bars, and a cube of cheese.

I squatted on a rock and amused myself with a bit of Yank baiting. There was a perfectly nice log by my rock, but as the first tired hasher lowered his arse towards it I said “Watch out for the creepy-crawlies”. It could not have been more effective to poke him with an electric cattle prod; he shot upright and ate his lunch (such that it was) standing. As soon as the next tired hasher spotted the log and looked like sitting on it we joined in a chorus of “Watch out for the creepy-crawlies”. Soon there were half a dozen people standing round the perfectly serviceable log intoning this mantra and recruiting yet more believers in the evil Mexican bugs that would eat you alive if you sat on them. I started laughing out loud, but still no one would sit on the log. I tried to explain that it was a joke, but was told that I was mistaken and there were bugs in the log that would climb up inside you and eat you from the inside out! Eventually when the crowd was talking about the kind of bugs that could do that and people they knew who it had happened to a couple of hashers came and sat on the log without anyone noticing. When someone pointed out their folly one of them laughed and said, “Who has been telling you that crap?” and carried on sitting there. The crowd then dissolved and everyone shuffled off to find somewhere else to sit. In an act of contrition I got up and offered my ‘safe’ rock to a couple of them and went and fetched a sixpack of beer which I doled out amongst the people still standing.

Eventually most of the people had returned and had been subjected to the near mandatory teasing “The sandwiches were great” – “The roast chicken is great…oh, has it finished” etc etc. and the hares called a circle. By this time most of the children from the village were in the branches of the huge rain tree watching the strange gringos. Iguana H3 have a reputation for nudity and strange ways of drinking beer that cannot (for legal reasons) be described here and certainly were not suitable for the eyes of children. Fortunately for me my V had just about washed off in the river and there were far many more Virgins than non-virgins and the proximity of impressionable minors meant that a lot of the more unpleasant ways of making someone drink a beer were severely curtailed. Most of the nudity and immoral behaviour was hidden from the children in the tree by forming a human wall around the goings on but judging by the giggling from the branches above they did see some of it.

When we got back on the buses back to the Krystal, one of my neighbours said "What was the big deal about the Predator filmset anyway?" I was just about to agree with him when everyone else on the bus started saying "Didn't you see the helicopter/set/Predator/great waterfalls/etc it was great!" He shook his head and looked very puzzled. I kept quiet; this has happened to me before when running. I become so focused on the trail that I miss everything else, damn!

Back at the Krystal the beer flowed like water though there was a nasty rumour going around that we were about to be wiped out by Hurricane Henriette that was steaming in our direction. Nevertheless the party got under way. I once again sought refuge in the pool and if my memory serves me correctly the storm did hit around 8pm, but the party kept on going in the torrential rain and wind. I do have a number of snapshots in my mind, but not on camera, of lunatics dancing in the rain and playing naked volleyball in the pool at around 1am after the storm had abated. Somehow I managed to find my clothes and shoes and got back to my room at about 2am. Other hashers I know kept partying all night and went skinny-dipping in the hurricane surf at dawn.

<<>>

Puerto Vallarta - Part 1 (last bit)

Thursday 30th August 2007

Another early start, but I did allow myself an extra 10 minutes before getting the taxi. Sod’s Law dictated that therefore there was a long queue at the check-in desk at the Vallarta Adventure’s scuba desk at the Maritime Pier as a result with hundreds of hashers wanting to go diving. I was off Las Ilas Mariatas for dives 3 and 4 of the PADI Open Water Certification – if I got through these I would be a fully qualified diver!

This time I was going on a smaller boat, Boat I. Once on board I quickly met up with Carissa and Roger who got us once again to prepare our diving gear and briefed us on the two dives we were to make. We were to do some more scary things like total mask removal and replacement while breathing underwater (holding of your breath not allowed) and CESA – emergency ascent without breathing in from 20ft as well as more buoyancy exercises and navigation. We were both given divers compasses and shown how to use them. Carissa had a real problem understanding how to count her kicks (an important part of underwater navigation apparently).

Once again as we were going along the crew put on a show. I think they were surprised by the response by the Hashers on board who joined in with enthusiasm. As we headed due West (I know because I was wearing a compass!) out across Bandaras Bay we saw a swordfish jumping out of the water, not once, but about 4 or 5 times. It was about 1.5 metres long and made quite a sight. I didn’t even try to get a photo of it, as I knew as soon as I reached for my camera it would be gone.

(not my photo)

Carissa and I prepared our equipment. I noticed that everyone else on the trip had their equipment prepared by the Dive Masters – all part of the PADI certification process I suppose.

Eventually we arrived at the Mariatas Islands a set of long low rocky desert islands – scrub and cactus, seabirds and nothing else. The boat anchored about 50 metres off shore and then the divers (and that included us) transferred to one of the two small open boats that we had been towing. I had expected that we would then go somewhere to dive, but Roger almost immediately told Carissa and me to put on our gear and get ready for a reverse roll into the sea. Putting on a very heavy tank, BCD and weights in a small boat is not easy but somehow with a little help from Roger we managed it and within a minute or two were in the beautifully clear sea. Roger immediately joined us and said he had to move a buoy. He immediately descended and then signalled back up to me to take the top of the line to help him. It was very odd swimming along on the surface connected by a rope to someone swimming along the bottom of the sea some 30 feet below. After about 100 yards Roger found another anchor and tied off the rope and ascended to rejoin us.

We did some surface navigation using the compasses and then descended. The sea was beautifully clear after yesterday's soup like visibility. The exercises were decidedly tougher this time. We spent a long time on the ‘fin pivot’ especially as Carissa had particular difficulty with it. The underwater navigation with a compass proved to be a lot more difficult than on the surface. I had to swim out on a compass baring for about 100 metres turn and swim back to the spot I had come from using only the compass and the fin kick counting to guide me. To my surprise and annoyance I ended up about 7 metres away from my starting point, but I suppose that was due to the current.

The CESA (Controlled Emergency Swimming Ascent) was unpleasant as you have to breath only outwards as you swim upwards from 20 feet down (a lot harder than it sounds). Once all the hard work was done we then had a swim around exploring the reefs and rocks that made up the coast of the island. It was like swimming in an aquarium there were so many fish of all sorts and sizes. I spent a lot of time just getting close to the rock walls and staring at the myriad of life that encrusted them. I really wished I had an underwater camera as it was so beautiful. After a bit of a swim around we then made our ascent making a precautionary 3-minute safety stop at 15 feet as we had been down two 60feet (20 metres) during the dive. Back at the surface we took off our kit and climbed aboard the small boat to be taken back to Boat 1just long enough to collect our lunch, which we weren’t allowed to eat, but had to give to the barman to look after as we couldn’t eat until we finished diving. Then it was back on the small boat and back into the water.

Once again we had work to do first of all was the buoyancy control – hovering in the water with legs crossed neither ascending nor descending – a piece of cake, but after one or two other easy exercises the worst moment of all the dives was to follow… the mask removal. Kneeling on the bottom, about 40 feet down when Roger signalled I took my mask off (with my eyes tight shut because of my contact lenses) and then tried breathing only to have gallons of seawater shoot up my nose. I managed not to panic and to keep breathing and coughing and complete the manoeuvre getting my mask back on and cleared it, but it was a horrid experience!

When we had both done that Roger signalled that we had both successfully completed our PADI Open Water Diving Certification – handshakes and high fives all round.

I was ecstatic; a long held ambition finally had been achieved, I was a qualified scuba diver!

For the rest of the dive was once again an explore including a very exciting swim down a narrow channel, almost a cave, between two rocks close to the shore. The waves made the timing of the swim really quite difficult.

It was all over far too soon as far as I was concerned. When we surfaced after our 3 minute safety stop we found we were about 200 metres from the small boat which had to come over and fetch us. We had to disassemble the equipment and empty the BCD of the water that had gathered in it during the dive then had quite a wait for the other divers who were on a different tour. Once they were aboard and had their equipment disassembled and stowed for them we were off on a rather bumpy, cold wet and windy 20 minute boat ride across to the northern shore of Banderas Bay to find the big boat which had relocated there. First order of the day when aboard was to get the dive log completed, then a beer and then finally lunch.

Carissa and Roger

While I ate my lunch I decided I would take another dive on the Tuesday or Wednesday after the IAH07 to celebrate my certification. Unfortunately that wasn't to happen. The nasal lavage I received from the mask removal left my sinuses wide open to infection and as I was partying with over 950 other people I inevitably and almost instantly caught a cold which turned into a cough by Monday, so diving was out for the rest of the holiday

The rest of the tour joined us (they had been ashore on the beach) and then we were off on a long party cruise back to PV. I was jubilant and tired. There were conga lines, limbo dancing and a really good party atmosphere all the way back.




As well as the taking pictures of the partying I had my camera ready to take pictures of any dolphins or any other aquatic wildlife, but all I managed was a series of photos of a couple of seabirds that flew alongside us for a while



When we docked at the Maritime Pier and I took the beach route around to the Krystal Hotel. The party round the pool was in full swing when I got there. Satan’s ‘Lill Helper was in the pool playing ‘Tippy Cup’ and Yark Sucker, Rumple Foreskin and Dr PP were sunbathing. I sat and chatted for a while and had several more beers from the now plentiful beer stations before deciding it really was time to go back to my hotel. I was too tired to piss around and got a taxi directly from the hotel and was pleased to find there was no premium for taking it from there. Back in the hotel room lethargy (and the beer) overcame me and I had a snooze before changing and showering and going out for something to eat. I decided to give the beach bar that I had visited for coffee and brandy a try. I got a table right on the beach; the service and the food were excellent. The food wasn’t fancy; I again had shrimps (a local speciality) but the portions were large and the cooking good. Once again the sunset was great. I took these photos over the period of a few minutes on my mobile phone







I moved in off the beach when it got dark and once again sat in the bar for a coffee and brandy before revisiting the fishermen on the pier. I must have spent over an hour watching them fish. This time they were being a bit more successful catching several large fish including a pipe fish identical to one I had seen earlier in the day.

Friday 31st August 2007

Check out and check in day. I found a note under my door reminding me that I had to check out by noon when I got up at 8am. I discovered that despite not having a full suitcase when I left home it would now hardly shut. I had a brainwave and took all my dirty washing around the corner to a nearby laundry I had seen. There was some confusion at first as the lady who took the laundry bag spoke very little English and I speak even less Spanish. “Today five” she said when I asked when the washing would be ready. I assumed that she meant it would be ready in 5 days from today, when I obviously looked worried she started said “You need sooner?” and shouting around at the staff who worked for her to see how much work they had got on, and then the penny dropped. She meant the washing would be ready “today at 5 o’clock” – it had never occurred to me it would be done in a day, so I managed to tell her that it would be fine and I would collect the stuff tomorrow morning.

Having got rid of the laundry bag the suitcase closed easily and I was checked out and in a taxi to my next hotel, The Hacienda by 11am.

I had decided not to stay at the Krystal Hotel (the venue for the IAH07) for a couple of reasons. Firstly it struck me as rather expensive and secondly I felt the need to be able to get away and do my own thing without being surrounded by hoards of drunken hashers if necessary. The Hacienda was a great compromise, being cheap, next door, but a world away from the madness and excess of the next few days.

So that is the end of Part One of my time in Puerto Vallarta. I will be covering (some of) what went on during the IAH07 in the next posting

Puerto Vallarta - Part 1 (continued)

This is a continuation of the previous blog - if you haven't read it then stop reading this and read it then come back to this...

Tuesday 28th August

I had an early start with the alarm going off at 7:20am (hey, I thought this was a holiday!). My phone had been playing up yesterday so I had decided to use the alarm clock function on my p.c. to wake me. Yesterday I had sent a text to Spare Rib to give him my phone number and received a reply "Great thanks. Sparerib" within a few minutes and then every hour on the hour for the rest of the day. At first I thought it was him pissing around or resending the message by mistake, but I realised that he isn't methodical enough to be able to send the message at exactly 60 minute intervals. Because I had no desire to be kept awake by this SMS glitch I had switched off the phone, so I was very confused when my phone's alarm went off despite it being switched off. A cool bit of functionality that I didn't know it had. Switching off the phone also seemed to clear the SMS problem (though I can't imagine how).

As a result of my trip to the supermarket the previous day I had the makings makings of breakfast I had no way of lighting the gas, so my first job once up and dressed was to pop over to the Oxxo (the Mexican equivalent of a 7-Eleven) just across the road from the hotel and buy a lighter.

After breakfast I carried on with my studying and finished the final chapter and exercises at 9:30am – a quick email check and pack and I walked up and grabbed a taxi from a nearby rank to take me to the Dreams Resort , which turned out to be further out from town in the opposite direction of the downtown area (See the Google Map)

We had gone about a kilometre when I realised I had left my spare set of contact lenses in the bathroom together with the spare contact lens case, so I had to ask the driver to turn round and go back to the hotel so I could pick them up. There was no meter in the cab and we had agreed a price of P$40 for the journey, so I thought an extra P$10 to P$15 should cover the detour. I was surprised and somewhat offended when he asked me for P$80 when we got to Dreams. When I refused to give this to him he called over the doorman and included him in the argument. I eventually gave him P$75 and he was still complaining as I walked away – I said “Get a life, its only P$5” as I went and then reflected that was only 25p and it was perhaps me that should get a life…

Dreams was very swanky and very up-market from my hotel. Down by the pool I saw someone getting some scuba kit ready, so I guessed he must be Jorge. I went over and introduced myself and he introduced me to Victor a young chap who would be assisting Jorge as he was taking his instructors exam next week. Jorge was only about 5 foot tall, around 40 years old and very powerfully built. He seemed like a nice guy. He started off by telling me that I had to do a swimming test. I said "OK", and he then pointed to some rocks about a mile away and said "Off you go" – when my jaw dropped he laughed and told me his was kidding. We were then a little distracted for a while by a huge cricket with amazing red wings – Jorge told everyone it was a hybrid between a butterfly and a cricket. I got a couple of photos of it before it crawled off.




The diving in the pool covered all the Confined Water Diving exercises, so it was pretty intense. I was generally pleased with how much I remembered from the manual and annoyed at how difficult I found some of the tasks in the pool. Breathing with a scuba tank is surprisingly odd, but I did eventually get used to it and relaxed. I had problem with cramp too, but otherwise most things were OK. I kept on getting my left and right confused and acted as if I was using a snorkel (which is wrong) but they were both polite about my mistakes and they took me through all of the four pool based units in one go. We went into the pool about 11am and got out at after 1pm. By the time it was all over I was busting for a pee! After getting out of the pool, peeing (in that order), changing and taking a few photos of a huge butterfly


Victor gave me the paperwork for the two boat trips (for the Open Water Diving) and then Jorge and I took a taxi back into town so I could sit my exam. He took me downtown and showed me a nice restaurant where I had lunch – he said he was busy and as I wanted to revise before the exams he was going to give me after lunch I didn’t invite him to join me. I had steak with guacamole and tortilla and two beers as I did my last minute cramming.

After an hour I went out and found Jorge manning a small tourist stall just round the corner. I joined him behind the counter and we went through the answers I had written at the end of each chapter of the PADI dive book and then he gave me an exam after reviewing my answers . He was very pleased with me and my ability to answer the incredibly easy multiple-choice questions. As I hadn’t got a set dive tables (RDP) with my book (something I should have got) he quickly showed me how to use them and then tested me on their use. After all that I then had a final exam that covered all the chapters. I got 4 out of 50 questions wrong, and 2 were because of simple errors (I ticked the wrong box). He was very impressed with me, not only because of my mental ability (which pleased me), but also because of my age (groan).


It was 4:30pm when I finished; I walked back to the room (about a kilometer) and made myself a cup of coffee and wrote up these notes. It was raining (for a change) when I finished at 7:30pm, so I didn’t go far for supper and ended up just around the block at a very swanky Italian restaurant. I passed this place no matter where I was giing and on one corner it has a timeshare sales booth where, every time I walk past the salesman greets me like an old friend and tries to get me to stop and talk to him – I always tell him I am busy, and this seems to satisfy him. Vallarta has a lot of these guys, but they aren’t as pushy as the ones in the Costa del Sol – at least they don’t chase you down the street. Anyway the pizza was very good but as the wine was a king’s ransom I accompanied it by beer, and then I went straight back to the room as tomorrow is a big day - my first Open Water dive!

Wednesday 29th August 2007

I had to be at the Maritime Pier which is at the other end of the town, and close to the airport for 8:30, so I set the alarm for 7am. After a hasty breakfast and a very careful pack of the rucksack, putting my all important PADI Diving book on the top, I grabbed a cab around the corner from the same taxi rank as yesterday. The ride took about 20 minutes so I arrived at about 8:20am and after paying the government tax of P$15 (75p) I found the Vallarta Adventures Scuba dive booth unmanned, so I had a little time to look around.

A huge Carnival Cruises liner (Carnival Pride) was docked and there were dozens of tours setting off as well including the Pirate Cruise, so there was a Capt. Jack Sparrow impersonator jumping out at everyone who entered. I also spotted what at first I assumed to be someone in a seal costume greeting the visitors to the port; to my surprise, on a second look I realised it was the real thing!



Once the booth opened I was quickly checked in, though I did once again have to sign my life away with waivers, and was labelled with a wristband to show that I was a diver and was told to go and wait on the jetty for the boat to Las Caletas, a small cove at the south end of the bay. In the line I identified a group of Hashers checking in to go to Callatas too – I started chatting to them in the queue and found that they were from the ‘Music City Hash’ – Memphis Tennessee. I stopped and posed with the seal and received a very whiskey kiss from it after my photo had been taken.


Boat IV, our imaginatively named boat arrived dead on time (9am) and we were under way very quickly. My fellow hashers chose to sit in the sun on the upper deck. I decided to sit in the shade downstairs and to do a bit of last minute revision. Before long the boat’s crew put on a show for everyone on board and a scratch breakfast was handed out. I had a banana, but there was coffee and croissants too. I then was called over by the Dive Master to the back of the boat. He was a muscular young Mexican with improbably blond long hair in a ponytail. He introduced himself as Roger and my dive buddy as Carissa. She turned out to be a Spanish speaking 18-year old student New York.

Roger said the first test was for us to prepare our equipment so we attached the BCD to the tank, the regulator to the tank and then I couldn’t get the low pressure line attached to the BCD – a problem I had had the day before – my fingers aren’t strong enough, so I switched regulators with Carissa who had no problems with mine and vice versa. We both passed the test, though there was a moment of panic when Carissa couldn’t blow here BCD up. It turn out that a valve on the back was stuck open – once closed the vest inflated and we were allowed to take the equipment off and to return to our seats. As we approached our destination I was stunned to see a large parrot flying around – only when it started to circle the boat as we docked did I realise it was part of the act. The divers were told to stay on the jetty as the rest of the passengers made for the beach based entertainment.

There were about 6 experienced divers who quickly set off in a boat somewhere, Carissa and myself as qualifying divers and about a dozen first timers as well as 4 dive masters and a guy with an underwater video camera. We were briefed (at length, all I wanted to do was get in) and then kitted up. We entered the water just by the boat down a simple flight of steps. Almost immediately everyone started saying ‘Ouch’ – the water was full of microscopic jellyfish that gave a little sting like a nettle. Fortunately these little ‘Pica’ only occupied the top metre or so of the water.

Roger took Carissa and me away from the others and we went through the 5-point descent routine and then Roger and I descended down the rope – about 2 metres down I suddenly felt a touch of panic as I was breathing underwater and I felt rather claustrophobic. My rational side cut in and I decided not to panic and pressed on down the rope. The visibility wasn’t very good but nevertheless there was of fish plenty to watch as I knelt on the bottom of the sea while Roger escorted Carissa down. Roger then signalled to us that we were to wait while he helped the total novices down.

It was a little scary down there and there was quite a current so we linked arms and waited. After about 5 minutes everyone was down and Roger signalled us to follow him – not as easy as it sounds as the novices were all over the place and I got kicked in the head quite a few times. On top of that I was finding despite my initial worries during the buoyancy check on the surface that I didn’t have enough weight and had a lot of problems staying down having to blow out a lot of air to keep myself from drifting upwards. We were taken down to 60ft and shown around. It was annoying to have the ‘virgins’ there as they kept on getting in the way but there was a lot to see including puffer fish, stone fish, sergeant fish, loads of morays, some things that looked like seasnakes, but turned out to be a form of eel as well as starfish, and coral. We were down for 45 minutes. Towards the end of the dive I was worried to find my air was getting low – I was really tearing my way through it, and only had 600psi left by the end Roger took me up (the minimum should be 1000psi).


Back on the dock the novices were let go to play on the beach as Roger briefed Carissa and me on our next dive that was to include putting our kit on in the water, regulator removal and retrieval underwater, mask filling and emptying underwater, and a buddy breathing ascent. Roger agreed that I needed more weight and added another 3lbs to the 9lbs already on my weight belt (Carissa only needed 6lbs to keep down). The second dive went very quickly and the exercises were a breeze. The extra weight meant that I sank like a stone but I was now feeling very confident with the odd sensation of breathing through a regulator at the bottom of the sea.

We fulfilled all the required PADI manoeuvres without any problems and then had a very pleasant swim around. I noticed Roger collecting something off the bottom of the sea as we went along. When we got back to the surface I asked him about it and he told me he was rubbish collecting to keep the place clean. After filling in our logbooks we were told we had both passed Open Water Dives 1 and 2 and were told to go and get something to eat from the excellent buffet being served on the beach as we had finished diving for the day.

Here is a little movie of the boat trip and a bit of the dive staring amongst others, me!



I raced over and grabbed a celebratory beer and found my fellow hashers and joined them for a much needed lunch and a lot of beer and cocktails. I had a shower and then small explore after lunch before finding the Hashers on the beach. Las Calletas is very pretty with a series of sandy coves backed by jungle. As well as a bar and restaurant there was also a small aviary with a collection of parrots.





It was all very pretty with a small stream running through the middle of it all. Aparently it all used to belong to John Houston


Almost as soon as I joined my new friends on the beach it was time to head back for the boat. I chatted to the hashers on the amazingly short trip back and agreed to buy the DVD of the dive from the underwater photographer. Worryingly he recommended I picked it up at the airport on the day of departure (a week away) – I was sure I would forget it.

Once we berthed back at PV I picked up and paid for my photo with the sea lion and then I walked with my fellow hashers back to the Krystal Hotel, the venue for the IAH07, which was only a couple of blocks away. I went through to the registration room, and as there was only a short queue registered and picked up my goodie bag and tee-shirt. EZ Over and Spare Rib were there but both were too busy to talk much so I explored the hotel for a while.


The place was already filling up with Hashers – a circle was being conducted in the pool, but I didn’t find anyone else I knew, though I heard that Satan’s ‘Lill Helper was around. I decided to head back to my hotel. I walked down the road to Starbucks rather than picking up a cab at the hotel as my paranoia (incorrectly as it turned out later) that I would be charged a premium there. On the way back I got the cab to slow down as we passed Jorge’s stall and said a quick hello to him as I passed, promising to drop by soon. Back at the room I relaxed taking a few photos and read my diving manual until it was time for dinner.

I was pretty tired after the day’s exertions and as a good sunset was in the offing I decided on dinner on beach at the posh restaurant next door. The service was splendid as was the view over the ocean. The food was good too, if expensive and in rather small ‘nouvelle cuisine’ portions, the crème brûlée was the size of credit card, but the sunset was magnificent!

Afterwards I walked to the other side of my hotel to a much more modest bar-restaurant for a coffee and a huge brandy and listened to the live band for a while. Still not ready for bed I then walked to the end of the short pier that my room overlooks and watched the night fishermen. It was a real family event. Mothers, children, and fathers all fishing away with nets, rods and hand held lines. I didn’t see any big fishes caught but all the tiddlers were used as bait. It was really nice to be the only non-Mexican and to see something so different from my everyday life.

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