Wish You Were Here: Family Camping in Cumbria

I consider myself a pretty advanced camper. Although I haven't done much of it lately (last 25 years), my time in the Scouts as a youth and young adult taught me life-long lessons that have come in handy in many occasions. For instance, I know from 'The Great Winds Camp-Out' that even though dome tents are stable, if you don't peg them down, they will roll, and you and everything you own may end up sleeping on the roof. I know that Snipes do exist, and that they taste like chicken. And I know that bacon, yummy bacon, tastes better when sung to during its cooking. I learned lots of useful things in the scouts. What I learned this weekend, though - was that none of that prepared me for Camping with Kids.

Let me start by saying that the Kids - all eight of them aged eight or younger - were delightful. Everyone behaved, there weren't any unreasonable arguments and they had a blast. So this wasn't about THEM being particularly challenging. It's about me not being used to the difference between camping with people who can take care of themselves, and camping with people who think running around, near and over a flimsy portable BBQ is great fun and not at all life-threatening. Camping with Kids is Camping with People Who Don't Yet Know That They Are Mortal - and as important and liberating as that perspective is, it can be stressful when they are inherently in an environment where there is so much more than normal that can kill them, and it's your job to keep them safe from all of it.

But it's also your job to teach them how to engage with that environment, and to have fun doing it. And that, I think, is where I need to learn the most. How do you teach them the importance of improvisation by using 6" kebab skewers as marshmallow roasting sticks and ALSO teach them that sitting IN the fire is dangerous? How do you teach them to love hiking up a steep, rocky hill and ALSO teach them that running back down it can kill you? BBQ food is SUPPOSED to have 'bits' on it, air beds are MEANT to be squishy, taking you boots off before you get in the tent is not optional, sometimes 'because I said so' is reason enough, and so on. SO much learning.

And, if I'm honest, being a mostly-mute adult trying to manage all that learning is a real challenge. I'm not great at multi-tasking with kids at the best of times, but when you have an already air-riddled voice that disappears completely at anything above Loud Whispering, explaining, comforting, encouraging, congratulating and expressing wonderment are all physically difficult and psychologically exhausting. So forget about disciplining, calling out for, yelling or sometimes even being heard over the cacophony of kids learning to love the great outdoors. I'm afraid the result this weekend was, at times, a stressed-out ex-Scout, who may have appeared not to be enjoying himself.

But it was ever of the moment; the effort to find that balance and the temporary inability to Communicate got the better of me. But the frustration soon abated and I quickly found something to remind me what it was all about. Whether it was one child finding complete joy in a narrow-gauge steam train ride, or another falling asleep while still trying to eat an ice-cream cone, or the emotional penguin hug as all eight kids said their good-byes and promised to meet up again (next time at the beach) - they reminded me what It is all about. It's about them, and their relationships with each other and with camping. The fact that they all wanted to do it again next weekend means it was a success. I think I'll need a few weeks to recover first.

Postscript: I am very aware that any Scout leaders that may read this may be feeling more than a little content. It is likely that they will recognise some of the struggle and all of the joy I'm trying to convey - but I imagine that they will also have a rather smug smile of their faces as it dawns on me what I put them through. Touché, Dad and Brother Gilliland, touché.

On Losing

I've done more than my fair share of losing at sports in my life. I've had some success, too.... and recently, I've been lucky enough to be working some guys who are enjoying a nice string of wins. 'The Streak' will, inevitably, come to an end, and when it does, I hope I can remember a few of the things I have learned as a Loser.

1.  Losing doesn't make me a loser. Winning doesn't make me a winner. Winning and losing are relative - HOW you win and HOW you lose - your character - is what matters most. I've known great players on poor teams. I've knows guys that are dead weight on championship teams. The guys I've respected most are the guys who could win or lose and act with class either way. Rudyard Kipling said "If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same; yours is the earth and everything that's in it". That makes a lot more sense to me than a boy being raised by monkeys and a dancing bear.

2.  For 99.9% of the people in the world - and definitely everyone I know - the result just doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I mean, literally - it means nothing. Does it mean a lot to me RIGHT NOW? Yes, of course. People who choose to participate in competitive sport do so because they want to compete and (more often than not), to win. It matters enough in the short term to give up hours, days weeks in preparation, and it matters enough that it hurts when the result doesn't go my way. But...c'mon! It's a game. In my case, most often it's a minority sport being played in the backwoods of nowhere by a relatively small handful of people. Hardly the cure for cancer, my daughters' smile, or my family's health. Please do not misunderstand me: I play to win and I really HATE losing. Ask my wife, or anyone that has played a board game with me. Ever. But win or lose, I should (eventually) be able to joke with and be joked about without getting too upset. It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small, you know? Yes with the Frozen reference.

3.  As good as I think I am, and as deserved a winner as I think I've been, some people will enjoy me losing. Now, that's probably down to a combination of a couple of things. Firstly, I probably am not that good and not that deserving, I have probably not been the perfect sport at every opportunity, and some people will feel a genuine and justified dislike for me and what I've tried to do - regardless of whether I've tried to do it 'right'. Even if I was the perfect sportsman, my (or our) success has necessarily come at the expense of others, and some of those others will be laughing when I fall. And that's OK. And that's the second thing: people who make light of me losing aren't necessarily calling me a loser. Some are, but most are probably just joking around because they are aware of (1) and (2), above. They may have a great deal of respect for what I (we) have accomplished. They may even be trying to emulate that success, and using us as a template of good practice. None of that is dimished by the fact that they crack a joke at my expense. Knowing (1) and (2), it stands to reason that if I can't (eventually) laugh about my successes and my failures, I need to find a different hobby.

I say this the morning after the night before, when the team I'm currently involved with achieved a significant milestone for them, and when another local team that has enjoyed a lot of success in the past few years saw an impressive streak of theirs come to an end in exciting fashion. I ribbed them slightly, because we rib each other. I did not say it with malice or cruel intent - I said it because I truly believe (1) and (2). As such, I have been both the joker and jokee, the winner and the loser, and I hope I manage more often than not to handle both with some degree of respectability. If I haven't, I can only apologise for my humanity and all its imperfections (including my stubborn immaturity) and suggest that we all chill the fuck out. Peace (drops mic).