Ladies & 'Gentlemen' of the Guangzhou Hash,

Every so often, we find ourselves snuck upon. Assaulted. Consumed. Thoroughly unprepared for the contemplation of these great questions who do not announce themselves before pouncing ravenously upon us:

Who are we?
What are we doing here?
Where are we all going?

They find us in our darkest moments. Change us. Permeates the essence of our being. Nothing else seems to matter now but our desperate pursuit of truth. The allure of those answers and the terror they bring with them. In such a state of confusion do we find ourselves wandering that we feel only deaf heaven may answer us our bootless cries when suddenly, we remember:

We're hashers. We are dragging ourselves out of an alcohol-induced coma to thunder the slopes of untrod wilderness in desperate search of that beacon of hope shining through the penetrating eternal darkness. Trumpeted on by winged seraphs, angelic lights twist themselves to form but two letters that carry endless promises of untold paradise: "BN".

And where we're going is wherever that damn flour is telling us to go.

And this glorious – in parts – dangerous trail, wet, slippery, and drawing tantalisingly close to the very magma at the earth's core as it carves through undiscovered catacombs will be marked expertly by two of the most devastatingly handsome specimens - Adonises, if you will – that the earth has ever been so blessed to be tread upon by. Or at least it would be if they were available, so we've got the next best thing.: two men from the North of England. And if there's one thing Northern Englanders know best, well, our top scientists are working on it, and we hope soon to have the answer!

In short, bring your boots, bring a change of clothes, and get ready for a stunningly wild trail taking you into all sorts of ups and downs. We've also got beer.

On On! 🍻