August 2018

My sister and nephew (her son) have both been involved for a good number of years with the Scout movement in the UK. They lead a troop (probably not called that any more) in the area not far from where we all grew up.

I was in the Scouts myself – as a nipper! – and then stayed on to become an assistant leader for a few years back in the early seventies. I learned a great deal from the experience – how to read maps and charts and to use a compass for navigation; how to build things out of ropes, pulleys and spars; how to get by in the great outdoors; how to cook and care for myself in less than optimal circumstances… how to pitch a tent blindfold!

I also learned how not to do a fair number of things – including how not to try camping even in the summer months using just a mountain survival bag and a sheet-sleeping bag. That was fun!

I parted company with the movement because I didn’t like the way the bureaucracy was heading. This is probably covered by ‘Health & Safety’ nowadays – closely allied, of course, to ‘Child Protection’, ‘Risk Management’ and so forth. I expect that there are loads of statistics available that demonstrate just how much safer it is being a young person involved in such activities now than it was back in the early seventies… should one care to look for them. If you sense a touch of cynicism in my tone it must surely just be down to cultural differences… or something!

I do, however, recall being able to decide on a Thursday evening (with a bunch of other guys) that we would head for the Welsh hills for the weekend. On the Friday night we would all pile into the back of a long wheelbased Land Rover and head down the M4 to the Brecon Beacons (or the Black Mountains, or wherever) where we would happily spent the weekend ‘yomping’ up and down mountains and indulging in ‘ham radio’ (youngsters won’t know what that is, of course!). The paperwork for doing that sort of thing now takes considerably longer than does the activity itself.

The final straw came when a group of our Scouts turned up at a summer fete for an annual tug-of-war competition (in which we were defending the trophy we had won the previous year) only to be turned away because we weren’t in uniform. When we pointed out that the Scout uniform was entirely unsuitable for such an activity the man in charge told us we should have changed after we arrived!

I had by then had quite enough of such petty tyrants! Well – I am a child of the sixties!

But where – you might reasonably ask – is all this going?

Well – my sister and nephew recently brought a party of Scouts (girls as well as boys!) to BC, to indulge in the sort of adventurous outdoor activities for which this province is known. Whilst they were here they managed to make time in their busy schedule for a visit to our North Saanich home for a relaxed lunch.

Not only was it good to see them both, but – given that my brother has already visited us here – the occasion somehow completed the circle, making yet another important connection between here and there.

…and to me that feels oddly important…