Many years ago a Scout wrote a poem trying to explain the happy memories of camping as a member of the Stag Patrol of the 4th Sherborne Troop.
Here is the poem, for in a way it tells you more than any words of mine could the truth about Scouting:
Chilton Cantelo by R. D. D. Thomas
How long it seems: yet t’was but yesterday
that we went camping through those sunlit hours;
and those fair fields so bright with summer flowers
Were filled with happiness and laughter gay.
How green the meadows were besides the Yeo
where we would go to bathe in water cool,
diving into that wide mysterious pool
From shaded banks where drooping willows grow.
How deep and dark the wood when twilight sent
us clustering round the Camp Fire’s cheerful blaze,
how bright the stars above the river haze,
How fragrant was the wood-smoke’s lingering scent.
‘Twas there we learnt to love the open sky
and share with Nature many a hidden joy;
there friendships grew which time cannot destroy
But rather strengthens as the years go by.
And now on lonely trails each Stag must go
with naught but memories to light his way
until he find again, some happier day
That Camping-ground at Chilton Cantelo.
That was his camp. And all Scout can remember camps like that, sometimes abroad, sometimes at home, sometimes with a trek cart over the hills,
some time just as a base for climbing, or caving, or canoeing; but all contained the ingredients for happiness and friendship and adventure.
Taken from Scouting by Rex Hazlewood Published by Muller
Photo taken from http://blog.nawbus.co.uk