Camping stories...Nature the great teacher

Here's a little story about the long term effects of Nature on wellbeing and confidence. Mistakes are all part of the learning process and everyone who has been camping has a story to tell, so here's one of mine.

About 15 years or so ago, I was a leader of a troop of international scouts based on the military base of SHAPE in Belgium. To be brutally honest, as a troop, we all had a lot to learn but I was proud of my little troop of around 10 boys and girls (two of which were my own who I dragged along). Yes I will admit, I felt that something about the nature based, hands on, team building and camaraderie style of scouting brought a serious and important piece of education to my offspring that I just couldn’t explain then other than the old adage “because it's good for you”;. And so they went, and as there was no leader, I went too not so much as to lead as to indicate a direction and tell them to ‘go that way…maybe’.

Now before I start my story, I must give a bit of background information. Our troop were SHAPE International and we were a small international troop of about 10 kids on a military base that did our best to meet up each week and mostly prepare for camping by practising lighting fires, putting up our tents, cooking, and doing things like making tripods out of sticks and lengths of string. We had our nemesis: the Brussels International Scouts, and yes, we called them the Brussel Sprouts! These were also international scouts but these guys went to a ‘paid for’ international school and were made up of very well to do and educated parents that were invested in their children. Their troop was incredibly well supported financially by the parents with all the latest kit and equipment, and for some reason, they all seemed to be a lot taller, more efficient, gentile…you get the picture, they were good, very good at the whole scouting thing. 

But one time, just once, we managed to overcome it all and the underdogs (as we saw ourselves) had our day, and this is where my story begins.

It all started on a weekend in the middle of March. It was our first time camping for a weekend and our first time encountering the sprouts. Looking back, It was optimistic of the camp organisers to decide that the weather would be warm, let alone dry, in the middle of March but no matter, we went and set up our tents, then began with the main task of the entire weekend….get the campfire going. i.e. gathering wood, preferably dry dead wood and not the soaking wet green wood that surrounded us. As it got colder and wetter, the fire lighting mission floated further and further away from us. We were all freezing, damp, and because we’d only been given flour, eggs, milk and sugar to cook with, we were also hungry. 

Depression set in, grumbles and moans were heard. To make matters worse, one of the girls in the sprouts troop was the daughter of a sprout leader who’d brought a blow torch with them. Our troop was outraged at this unfair advantage seeing a glowing fire roaring away and marshmallows melting. One of their troop had also secreted a packet in their rucksacks, these guys had done this before!

Fortunately, this disastrous camp was only for two nights and we managed to survive without catching pneumonia. A little forlorn, we all went home on Sunday afternoon grateful for hot baths, warm dry clothing, hearty meals, central heating and comfortable beds that welcomed us at home. 

I was extremely surprised to see the troop again at the following Thursday meetup. I thought that would have been it for everyone however, these 10 year olds seemed to be amazingly resilient and a lot of time passes in four days for them so they were back to their chirpy selves and demanding that they practise their campfire lighting skills. So….we practised. We decided that the magnesium strikers were pretty useless and began looking at other and more reliable fire lighting methods in preparation for our next camp - The Big Jamboree in June! 

They practised their cooking skills on gas stoves, they tried all sorts of different types of stoves (we had an assortment from many years) they told me which one was their preferred type and I managed to rustle up a couple for the camp. We practised with all the different styles of tents and chose the ones they would take that were the easiest to set up and kept them the driest. 

They went shopping for the food and for the ‘Cooking Challenge’ that was to take place on the final day. And if I remember rightly, George invested in the largest jar of chocolate spread he could carry as ‘reserve provisions’, not that I’m 100% sure of his intentions to ever share said provisions with the rest of us. 

The day came in June and I greeted the troop as they were dropped off in the car park by their parents. “All right everyone, we all remember what it was like last time. But it's a bit warmer now and we’re had a chance to practise. What have you got to help with the fire?” I asked encouragingly. 

The gang looked down and pulled out a myriad of objects collected by themselves or given to them by their mums and dads. We had cotton wool, firelighters, never ending matches, bundles of dry straw, a small bottle of gasoline, wax candles, even a tin of a dubious gel that no-one quite knew what it was and I don’t think we ever found out!

This time, they were ready and had a ‘bring it on’ air of composure. 

The camp began, we jollied along in our tents and met the different tasks, games and challenges with varying degrees of success or failure - mostly failures at the hand of the sprouts. Friendships were made, as were sworn enemies, there were a few bruises and grazes and very grubby fingernails, if I remember rightly, but on the whole all was good leading up to the big one: the Cooking Challenge. 

The troop had decided to cook spaghetti bolognaise and had planned it meticulously. They set up the best two gas stoves we had to get the meal going along with the log fire they’d managed to start and keep going all weekend full of a pan to boil water. 

It was at this point that I was taken aside and asked if I could help assist one of the judges of the cooking challenge who happened to be my boss. Like, my big boss. The one you smile at and just agree with everything he says then find out what you’d agreed to later on with a lesser boss. 

Boss and I toured the camp. There were about 18 different troops in total and we visited 6. We greeted them, asked them what their menu was and when would it be ready, then revisited to judge the presentation, taste and cookery skills along with team work and organisation. 

My boss and I decided that a particular troop had done well as they had produced a chilli con carne, with perfectly cooked, fluffy and reasonably white rice. “It's very difficult to get rice right” insisted my boss “I think, on reflection, all in all, that these are the winners.” I nodded, I had no reason to dispute the decision. “Ah, now, I have to dash, got a rendez-vous at HQ” my boss continued “I shan’t be able to stay for the presentation unfortunately. Would you be kind enough to pass on my decision to the other judges, Sally?” I assured him I would and bid my boss good-bye before heading back to the group of judges who were all stood in the middle of the camping field. 

I wish my boss could have stayed. 

When I arrived one of the leaders was standing in the middle of the group, incredibly animated and almost evangelising about a troop he’d just seen over in the far corner. 

“There’s this girl, who's in charge, she’s got them all organised and they're all tasked with helping her. One of the gas stoves ran out of gas and she even asked me if it was okay to change the bottle. ‘Of course you can’, I said. Then she gathered the boys round, and they all took a pan and moved them onto the wood fire, while two of them changed the gas on the stove, they relit the stove and then transferred it all back again. It was amazing! All the other troops have got adults hovering over them and running around helping, but not this lot. There’s not an adult in sight. They’re doing it all themselves. The food isn’t the best, some sort of spaghetti bolognese thing with pancakes and chocolate spread, but they’ve got to be the winners!” he declared. 

I smiled. Not quite sure if I should admit to being the absent adult, but I felt I ought to at least declare my conflict of interest in voting for the troop, and of course I would love them to win. I also stated my bosses decision and reasoning as unenthusiastically as possible so the job was done, I’d kept my word but hey….I was not going to argue if the decision was over turned. 

We were all sworn to secrecy on the winning decision until the presentation ceremony that afternoon for all the challenges for the camp jamboree just before home time. The rafting challenge went to the sprouts, along with the fire lighting, the den building and of course best kept camp area all accompanied by its own beautiful sew-on badge to add to their already covered campfire blankets. SHAPE troop had resumed the forlorn look of the March campsite again. And then the last challenge was the Cooking Challenge. 

“Probably the sprouts again!” mumbled a few as their hearts sank further.

As the scout leader described the reason why this particular troop had won with the same animation as before, the troop’s ears began to pick up and mutters of “I did that” and “that’s what we cooked” started to be heard with shoulders beginning to square up and eye’s growing wider with curiosity. 

“And the winners are…..SHAPE troop!” 

They couldn’t believe it, the smiles were worth all the wet cold nights, the dismal fires, and stodgy food.  They had won! And it was the biggest badge. And it was the bestest day that they and I will always remember. 

But the story doesn’t end there. The reason for taking the kids to scouts in the first place became evident a few years later.

When my eldest was looking at universities, and after we’d visited several together, she started to take herself off to a couple that she was interested in on her own. Some of them were quite a distance away but she managed to organise the trains, book a taxi and hotel and just went off and returned with the guides, and an opinion, of whether she liked the places or not. 

As we sat at the table over a coffee one day I reflected “you’re very brave you know, going off like that on your own to take a look. It seems all the other students have their parents with them. Don’t you mind going on your own?”

And her reply: “Mum, I’ve survived a freezing cold scout camp in the rain with only flour, milk and eggs for dinner and no hope of a fire. Anything after that is a walk in the park!”