It was the summer of 82, days were hot, long and exciting. Icecream, sliders and freeze pops were high on the agenda. These were carefree times, when kids disappeared for hours but always resurfaced for meal times…..magically, without watches or any knowledge or realisation of time……
I was eleven years old, with a mind full of adventure and our “Troop”, as we called ourselves, had members of similar age. We were always out and about, setting ourselves goals, tasks, dares. Trouble was never far away, especially when Kevin was on his game. He was the only one at another school, having moved to the area several months before…….the newbie.
The rest of the guys were Mikey, 12, his little bro Ross, 10, good solid dependable Troopers and Ian, 11, great guy, and my best friend once. Oh, and I can’t forget Stephen, who lived in the same block as me, and slightly older at 13. He’d stood up for me on many occasions, for which I am forever grateful. I was small then.
We, had completed many manoeuvres over the years, having been friends for what seemed like forever. It was around the middle of the school summer break and we’d struck upon our next mission……camping out all night. We’d completed this task before but this one was different.
It wasn’t our usual haunts, local wasteground, the Church woods and various back gardens……Kevin had suggested Campy woods…….
So, as usual, our parents agreed, well why not, we’d camped in the woods behind the Church thousands of times…okay,….. it felt like thousands, we knew every inch, every beehive, wasps nest and firewood pile…..heheh!
But we weren’t going there…..we’d lied………
Campy woods were haunted, magical and inhabited……..with what we weren’t sure. But they were!!….ask any signed up member of the Troop. We’d spent long days there foraging, swinging, climbing and burning but never at night. No way!!
So after tea, one Tuesday night or was it Wednesday, they were all alike, we gathered at The Green Grass Hill, we always met there. Kitted up with camping gear, well…. sleeping bags, numerous haversacks, some fodder and Ian’s water bottle, we made tracks. Kev had his 3 man tent, the New Explorer 2…that stirred excitement for a moment. There were 6 of us, but we’d squeeze in, sleeping wasn’t on the agenda and we were shorter back then.
Hours later, we meandered through the woods, we were almost there. We laughed, joked and Kev smoked, loved his fags he did!! On the way, we had already tackled a half dozen missions:-
Crossing the carriageway, like frogger but riskier, cars were fewer but just as fast, it always gave us a kick. Ian always joked “he’d heard a story of a father telling his kid to go and play on the carriageway as a means of getting him out of the way, he did so and was knocked down….poor kid.
Climbing the blue gate, it was huge, wooden, and impregnable. Ian was the best, he had reach, believe me…you needed reach. We always kidded it had been taken from a fortress somewhere to stop us,…. just us. It never did….another one cracked!!
The great wall, this was always a challenge, to conquer it then use it to avoid the dense forest below, it was high, so very high especially when you’re so very short. It can be walked by the skilled, Mikey was the best, whereas Ian straddled it and made slow progress. It wasn’t for the faint hearted.
The lodge garden, it had to be crossed. Like a mine field, we could easily walk round, but that was never allowed. Scale the fence, through the veggies, avoid the dog and over the other fence, simple…..but avoid the parkie at all costs, alerting him could blow the whole mission.
The raging river, or bubbling brook, we preferred the former. We’d rope ourselves together, to work as a team, but instead of saving troops, we managed to soak them, sometimes the whole team…always Ross, we’d laugh and scramble out.
On arrival at camp we felt like pioneers, hungry pioneers. Plenty of daylight left, it was only dark for a few hours in those days. A small clearing was picked out, haversacks dumped everywhere and the New Explorer 2 unrolled. Kev smoked as we attempted the tent, it was a quick task, we were keen and experienced, guy ropes tensioned and it was up!
Next, the main event,……. the fire! Gathering wood was tedious but a must and soon we had a fair pile, it would see us through the night. Mikey and Ross would toy fight with their bundles, dropping supplies everywhere…brothers..huh. Ian would skive, he hated work! “Okay troops here goes”, Kev would do the lighting, it took ages, he always did it wrong, “give me a go” i’d plead and with little fires everywhere it would eventually take. At last, the camp had a soul…..we loved fires back then.
Logs and boulders were rolled into place and we’d laugh and joke as we huddled around camp. Kev would smoke, we’d all munch and Ian would guzzle his bottle. It was a spooky place but we hardly noticed,……. we were having fun, always fun. The fire was loaded and poked.
The woods closed in as night crept upon us…….
We sat around the fire that night for hours, story telling, munching and capering. Ghost stories, football, school, and telly were the main subjects. Oh, and girlfriends briefly. Only a few of us had one, it was an embarrassing subject quickly nipped. Ross sat uneasy,….. he was young.
Ian and Stephen were the first to turn in, commandeering the entire tent, then Mikey and Ross. We had no idea of time, who cared? The sky was illuminating again, night had passed. Much shuffling from the tent and then…..silence. Kev and I were still at the fire, slumped and cosy on opposite sides using logs as pillows. It was warm and mellow, as was the conversation. Kev had a final smoke and that’s the last I remember, we slept. The Troop were at rest…….
Morning came all of a sudden with a motorised zzzzzzzzzzzzz….the tent being unzipped. The fire smouldered as we all awoke. Kev sat up then lit up, the brothers pee’d and Ian rolled up his sleeping bag. Stephen stretched and I watched, taking it all in.
Happy days.
Happy days.
The forest came alive, birds chirped and insects buzzed as we packed up, the fodder was gone which hastened the task. We made tracks, back through the dense woods. The laughter and joking was subdued but the sun shone as it always did. We took the Campy brae track back home. It was downhill and straight, which suited us, it must’ve been about breakfast time.
Passing the Raging River , the Lodge Garden
We hadn’t seen any ghosts, goblins or wizards, come to think of it, not a thing!
Troopers, team mates, brothers, friends……
I guess we’d brought our own magic to the woods……..
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