Oct 2008 - Morrison's Academy

Page 38 The Morrisonian | 07/08 Secondary
English
S6 - Traumatic Tales of Duke of Edinburgh (cont.)
started up this nemesis, hanging on to
miserable weeds for dear life, feet
slipping dangerously on the scree.
Someone yelled in utter excitement
how fun and exciting this was. Yeah.
Shortly after this ordeal we met a
couple of ‘Munro baggers’ who had
clearly mistaken us for a group of
outdoorsy freaks like themselves. We
explained that we were on our gold D
of E expedition and they beamed at
us - they were obviously in favour of
this torture of youngsters. We then
realized that we were severely behind
schedule (a major blow to the boys
who continued to insist that a five
minute stop is a sign of weakness)
and marched for the rest of the day,
as I told myself that I could not give
up and be rescued… though the
thought of the mountain rescue
service arriving on scene to aid a
group of courageous D of E'ers in a
helicopter did appeal to me greatly.
Feeling emotionless the following
morning, I knew I must be entering
the next phase of D of E. First dread,
then despair, then comes laughing at
yourself - and finally just not caring
anymore. A little smile flickered across
my face and I felt rather pleased with
myself for having come up with this
theory. (I had clearly become so
brain-dead that I thought my theory
both interesting and clever: a true
cause for despair). I didn’t care that
we smelled so bad that flies were
starting to follow us. I didn’t care that I
only knew we smelled bad because I
saw the flies. I felt much better, setting
off with a very munro bagger-like
spring in my step. But then I got some
devastating news: namely that we
were to take a ‘short cut’ over a
heather-covered, pathless mountain.
This was another stupid idea. But it
seems that the others had not been
blessed with the short-cut taking
childhood that I had, so we headed
up the mountain. When I was
younger, I had loved it, and even
looked forward to getting up at 3am
with my Dad to climb mountains and
have breakfast at the top. This time I
looked up to see that I was well at the
rear of the group and feeling
completely inadequate. I stormed off
at top speed, moving at a glacial
pace compared to everyone else.
Furiously unhappy, I resolved that I
would not be defeated by this
mountain- this was the only way
home. I pushed on resolutely behind
the others, and finally collapsed over
the top.
The next stretch was thankfully
downhill and I felt fantastic… I could
practically hear the ‘Lord of the Rings’
soundtrack echoing in the valleys! Oh
my God. I was clearly turning into one
of those people who I had sneeringly
dismissed - a walking enthusiast. But it
mattered not, for I was finally in the
‘let’s keep walking’ frame of mind
rather than the ‘let’s throw ourselves
off that cliff’ one. On arrival at yet
another campsite, we realized that
the wind had picked up a few
notches and had to engage in some
full-on wrestling to get the tents up. But
by this stage, I cared not a jot that
civilisation did not exist- I lived in the
mountains!
Next morning we awoke to Mr Jack’s
“Time to get up, folks!” in his usual
cheery manner but no doubt he was
feeling a bit disappointed - this being
our last day and all. We packed up
our tent for the last time (unless, as the
teachers had enthusiastically
recommended, we organize our own
platinum D of E… I don’t think so). I felt,
and most likely looked like, I had
fought in battle but it mattered not as
today was our last and I was going to
finish this infernal ‘adventure.‘
However, after about five minutes, my
fairly optimistic attitude had vanished.
The familiar facial focus of furious
determination was back - a highly
attractive look which I know will take
botox years to reverse. As I fought
through the thick heather, absolutely
determined that I would do this, I
listened to the boys who were starting
to plan their next outdoor adventure
and cheerily invited us to join them.
Seriously, some of them can only be
called as keen as teachers, having
described D of E as a ‘total party.’ I, of
course, thought this was perfectly
ridiculous.
A couple of hours later we could see
some… wait for it… buildings! And
looking from the highest point at the
little town in the valley, glistening like a
beacon of hope in the bright
sunshine, I felt on top of the world. If I
had broken my leg at that moment, I
would have hopped; if it had
snapped off, I would have rolled -
nothing would stop my re-emergence
in society and a hot bath! We were so
close. It was then that I remembered
one particularly humiliating
expedition where every single
member of the group had broken
down crying, only to be greeted at
the finish by our school’s
photographer who forced them to
climb another hill and stand in some
ridiculous formation to pose for a
photograph for the school magazine:
Sweaty, Muddy and Greetin’ Spice, all
smiling for the camera whilst
everyone treated us like some
national heroes returning from war.
Surprisingly enough, that picture
didn’t make it into the magazine! I
looked up and saw the end point
looming straight ahead. Cheering, we
ran. Throwing down our heavy bags,
our bodies feeling lighter than air, we