I’ve spent this week in the rough and tumble of a Scout Jamboree. It’s been astonishing, and humbling, to see the energy and resilience of the 850 youngsters who appeared to enjoy themselves despite days of heavy and relentless rain.
It may be raining but that’s no reason for not getting in the pool
We were in the Kilpatrick Hills north of Glasgow. The Auchengillan Jamboree is held every second year and now attracts scouts and guides from across the world. There were groups from Australia, Canada, Denmark, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, The Netherlands, Pakistan, Sweden and the Ukraine. The foreigners, of course, were by far the better campers….neat, tidy, disciplined, colourful and multi-lingual.
Luckily the 25 Scottish groups and the 14 from England outshone the visitors in the talent contests. We had pipers, traditional singers and dancers, guitar players, a choir, and endless cover versions of hits by Adele, Coldplay, Train and Bastille.
During the day, there were over 40 activities to chose from, run by over 250 volunteer staff. As you walked through the camp, you would see brave attempts at hut-building, camp-cooking, wall-climbing, field games, archery, woodland drama, arts and crafts, radio hamming and long lines of people setting off for the water sports at Loch Lomond or the hill-walking (my own speciality) on “the Whangie” or in Glencoe or visits to the great city of Stirling.
What did the Scouts from overseas make of the Scottish Summer
It rained all Monday and all Tuesday. We had a brief respite on Wednesday, before settling back into rain on Thursday and finally clearing up on Friday. But despite the rain, and the mud that comes with it, I didn’t hear a single complaint from any of the youngsters, even from the cool girls with dyed hair or the guys with low slung jeans and unlaced trainers.
So after a week of relentless rain and relentless outdoor activity, I arrived back in Edinburgh at 10.30 on Friday night slightly damp and fairly exhausted. Here was a very different scene….still lots of people trailing about, but older, fatter, slower, complaining. Then, on George IV bridge, I watched the fire-works light the sky above the Tattoo on the castle esplanade. It’s festival time. And a whole new jamboree begins, more worldly wise perhaps but way behind the inspiration that was Auchengillan 2013.