Memories of Aymestrey School Scout Camp
Mike Powell (1959-1964)
I remember “Camp” so well; a week at the end of the summer terms, 1962-1964, which we spent near Penybont in Radnorshire, now called Powys, with Dan Asterley, the headmaster and scoutmaster of Aymestrey School scout troop. We didn’t really know or mind where we were going – we were too excited to care. All we wanted to do was to get there – we’d done our tests and got the badges. Our preparation included writing to our parents to tell them the details so that they could come and visit us on the Sunday. (Well, Dan had written them on the blackboard and we’d copied them down, word for word). |
It all started when Earnest Batty, the furniture removers from Worcester, sent one of its vans to transport us. A cheer would greet the driver who would be asked to remove or secure the two swing doors so that we could see out above the tailgate. We sat on the tents, the kitbags, the jerry-cans, the food and all the impedimenta so vital to the 24 or so boys, aged 11-13, and Dan, the only adult. Once loaded, we’d be off with an even bigger cheer as we rolled down the back drive (too heavy for the bridge over the lake down the front drive).
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Nowadays of course, not only would we all be in a coach with safety belts and air conditioning but we’d have comfort stops and ipods, and be texting our families as we went. The kit would be stored beneath us, if not in an accompanying mini-bus, with 2 or 3 adults to help supervise.
For those who had been before there was just a chance that we might recognise the A44 through Bromyard, Leominster, Kington and then onto Penybont, but a newcomer just had to sit back and enjoy the journey as best he might. Dan sat by the tailgate, presumably to stop it from descending onto the road, thus scattering boys and kit all over the place. The more courageous and the better the traveller you were (facing backwards and enduring the exhaust fumes), the further back you perched in the van. Of course, it was pretty dark but at least you had a better view, sitting higher up on the equipment. The journey took about 2 hours, I suppose. The best bit was getting Dan to join in with the songs we’d learnt with Miss Speares; he did.
For those who had been before there was just a chance that we might recognise the A44 through Bromyard, Leominster, Kington and then onto Penybont, but a newcomer just had to sit back and enjoy the journey as best he might. Dan sat by the tailgate, presumably to stop it from descending onto the road, thus scattering boys and kit all over the place. The more courageous and the better the traveller you were (facing backwards and enduring the exhaust fumes), the further back you perched in the van. Of course, it was pretty dark but at least you had a better view, sitting higher up on the equipment. The journey took about 2 hours, I suppose. The best bit was getting Dan to join in with the songs we’d learnt with Miss Speares; he did.
Well, we’d arrive in Penybont and Dan, as arranged, would lean out and bang on the side of the van for the driver to stop. Here he’d receive Dan’s instructions and directions for the last few miles down the lanes and over the potholes until we’d finally reach the farmyard where the driver would have the most awful job turning round. We’d be greeted by Dan’s farmer friends and we’d load up a trailer which would ferry our stuff to the site. |
That was the way it was at the Neuadd, the best campsite, beside the River Ithon, (where Anthony had been for 2 camps and where I went for my last two camps). But for his last and my first camp we were at Vron Farm near Llanfihangel-Nant-Melan, not very far from Penybont. Here we were privileged to be able to use a cart, which we had to pull ourselves since the track to the site was too narrow for a tractor.
Anyway, we would pitch camp. The 4 patrols, Peckers (Anthony’s and my patrol), Pigeons, Cuckoos and Eagles, would put up their own tent in the way we’d practised at school on the front lawn (we could do it with blindfolds). Pride was taken to ensure the seams were in line with the guys and that the pegs were all in line. Each scout had their own groundsheet (parents were instructed to buy quite a lot of kit), and points were issued daily for the best tent, tidiest tent, etc. We loved it.
Anyway, we would pitch camp. The 4 patrols, Peckers (Anthony’s and my patrol), Pigeons, Cuckoos and Eagles, would put up their own tent in the way we’d practised at school on the front lawn (we could do it with blindfolds). Pride was taken to ensure the seams were in line with the guys and that the pegs were all in line. Each scout had their own groundsheet (parents were instructed to buy quite a lot of kit), and points were issued daily for the best tent, tidiest tent, etc. We loved it.
There was a daily routine. Dan came to wake up the cooking patrol a bit earlier than the others at around 7am but, of course, we’d advanced our watches by one hour upon arrival so as to gain from the daylight. In effect we were rising an hour later than at home, thus benefiting from the sun being higher in the sky, and going to bed when it was nearly dark. The cooks would revive the fire from the night before, get the porridge and a billy of water on for washing-up, and start the sausages, bacon and eventually fried eggs. Other cooks would concentrate on ‘bread-and’, a name given to wads of bread or so-called slices covered in butter and either marmalade or strawberry jam.
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Meanwhile the other patrols would continue their duties - more about them a little later.
Breakfast as with all meals was eaten sitting at a ‘table’ of thin wooden battens held horizontally in place by string and supported above the ground by hazel sticks with V’s and pushed into the soil. We would sit on our mackintoshes with our legs beneath it. At the end of a meal the table could be rolled to one end to save it getting totally wet, leaving the V-sticks in the ground. Above a dried-up stream was a good place to site the table, as at the Vron, since the sitting position was more like that of a chair.
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Dan would always sit in the same place at one end of the table so that he could hear the conversation since he was stone deaf in one ear. He was a good deal more relaxed on camp and was even funny at times. He loved it as much as we did, especially if it was wet. He always thought that a good camp was a wet camp and that no one would learn much if it were dry all the time. Consequently the Vron camp was ‘exceptional’ since it rained from beginning to end, or so it seemed.
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We didn’t go hungry. The quartermaster had to liaise with Dan and Mrs A, when she came briefly, and produce the food for the cooks to cook. The food was kept in the quartermaster’s tent, about the same size as Dan’s, and the aroma was super. Milk was kept in the river, but apart from that, the rest of the food survived at summer temperatures.
After breakfast we’d wash up. The cooks passed the dirty enamel plates and mugs to one patrol who’d wipe them with grass or reeds, previously cut, then the carrying patrol would take them to the rinsing patrol who were stationed on the stones by the river. Here the rinsing and skimming of plates (early versions of frisbees) was done, and the carriers would return them to the cooks who’d hang the mugs on the mug-tree, and stack the plates. |
Greasy frying pans weren’t much fun, but by the time they’d been rinsed with boiling water and wiped with grass they weren’t too bad. (Washing-up liquid wasn’t allowed). The greasy grass was then put in the waste-pit.
Once that was done, we’d attempt to wash ourselves in the river and tidy our tents, ready for inspection. The results of that and the news for the day were given to us at Morning Prayers at the flagpole. The four patrols formed a square, stood to attention and saluted as the Union Jack was raised, then stood easy for prayers. Dan would tell us the plan for the day, suggest what the weather might do, and perhaps more importantly, tell us how Cuthbert was getting on. |
Cuthbert was a famous scout. He was the fictitious boy who did things wrong. Dan could then blame Cuthbert instead of telling off the offender – it wasn’t like school. Cuthbert was often stupid enough to walk about in the rain without his mac on when there was no way of drying out. Cuthbert would go to the latrine by closing the ‘gate’ (two long, hazel V-sticks in the ground with another stick placed horizontally across) for privacy, and then depart without going through the ‘gate’, thus leaving a queue of scouts desperately waiting for nobody!
The routine would continue after Morning Prayers, but with each patrol rotating round the duties. The cooks would prepare lunch, peel potatoes and carrots etc., make a pudding and tidy the kitchen, which was an area marked out by string and sticks. The kitchen had two or three entrances, and we were not allowed to jump over the string to make our journey shorter; this is what Cuthbert did.
The routine would continue after Morning Prayers, but with each patrol rotating round the duties. The cooks would prepare lunch, peel potatoes and carrots etc., make a pudding and tidy the kitchen, which was an area marked out by string and sticks. The kitchen had two or three entrances, and we were not allowed to jump over the string to make our journey shorter; this is what Cuthbert did.
Plate racks were part of the equipment that we brought to each camp, as was the large piece of curved sheet metal, blackened from years of use, which was the surface above the fire on which the billies and pans were placed to get hot. The area for the fire was dug out slightly to accommodate the logs, and one end was blocked off to keep the heat in. This meant that the fire was stoked by kneeling down at the entrance to the curved area and logs were pushed to the back to spread the heat more evenly. It certainly worked well, but we had no time to stand about keeping warm. Cuthbert always put the underside of the lids of pans straight onto the grass when checking the food was cooked.
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The wood patrol would scour the camp for suitable logs of varying sizes. The first patrol to be on wood duty early in the week had the easiest job; they only had to walk about and pick it up. Later in the week sorties were sent further afield to find the right thickness of wood suitable for cooking. Cuthbert would bring back elder, holly or pine and mix it with the rest of the firewood. Generally there was plenty of wood without having to chop trees down. As at school, when the wood patrol in winter would spend time after breakfast chopping wood in the wood yard behind the changing rooms, all chopped wood was neatly stacked. Axes and saws had been sharpened specially for camp by Taylor and he’d tied hesian around the blades for transportation. Cuthbert would cut himself sawing, allow chopped wood to fly up and hit him in the face, or leave the wood pile without the tarpaulin cover over it.
Meanwhile the digging patrol was responsible for digging the waste and grease pits, the steps down to the river, and the latrines. Waste and grease pits were about 2-foot square and about 2 feet deep. Soil, generally sandy, was piled at the side and a shovel was left in order to cover the waste as it was put in. When the pit was full, extra soil was piled up and the sods were put back so that in time the ground would level out. Grease pits were similar but had sticks across the pit with reeds and grass lain across the sticks. The idea was that the grease was supposed to stick to the grass whilst the liquids sunk into the ground. The greasy reeds were then put in the nearby waste pit.
Latrines were dug in 2-foot lengths, 6 inches wide and about 1 foot deep. Again soil was piled to the side and a shovel was left for convenience. Loo paper (Bronco or Izal – both very rough) was left in a cake tin. After squatting and performing you covered the business with a little soil and left the latrine area through the aforementioned “gate”. Cuthbert would shovel all the sand in at once thus leaving none for anyone else. He’d also leave the lid off the loo paper tin and the paper would get wet.
Lastly, the carrying patrol would literally carry whatever needed to be carried. The farm provided us with milk each day, which had to be kept chilled in the river, and with drinking water whenever we needed it. Mrs. A would order fresh food and would either have it delivered or she would deliver it to the farm herself. The patrol then collected it from the farm. Plates to be taken to the wash-up area and to the rinsing people in the river were carried by the carrying patrol. Maybe this was the least interesting duty of the four, but necessary nonetheless. What room for error had Cuthbert got here? Not much, except that he would probably not tie up the milk, in which case it would topple over and all float away.
The duties continued throughout the mornings, and after a few days there was enough wood, and enough pits and latrines so the pressure was off. In the afternoons we had a rest, retiring to our tents. If the weather was fine we’d have brailed up the sides and doors in the morning, and carried the individual groundsheets with the kit on them outside. Cuthbert would drag his groundsheet, thus puncturing it on a thick thistle or sharp stone, and his bedding would get wet. When the tent was empty the grass could breathe, and we could lie on our groundsheets in the sunshine.
Meanwhile the digging patrol was responsible for digging the waste and grease pits, the steps down to the river, and the latrines. Waste and grease pits were about 2-foot square and about 2 feet deep. Soil, generally sandy, was piled at the side and a shovel was left in order to cover the waste as it was put in. When the pit was full, extra soil was piled up and the sods were put back so that in time the ground would level out. Grease pits were similar but had sticks across the pit with reeds and grass lain across the sticks. The idea was that the grease was supposed to stick to the grass whilst the liquids sunk into the ground. The greasy reeds were then put in the nearby waste pit.
Latrines were dug in 2-foot lengths, 6 inches wide and about 1 foot deep. Again soil was piled to the side and a shovel was left for convenience. Loo paper (Bronco or Izal – both very rough) was left in a cake tin. After squatting and performing you covered the business with a little soil and left the latrine area through the aforementioned “gate”. Cuthbert would shovel all the sand in at once thus leaving none for anyone else. He’d also leave the lid off the loo paper tin and the paper would get wet.
Lastly, the carrying patrol would literally carry whatever needed to be carried. The farm provided us with milk each day, which had to be kept chilled in the river, and with drinking water whenever we needed it. Mrs. A would order fresh food and would either have it delivered or she would deliver it to the farm herself. The patrol then collected it from the farm. Plates to be taken to the wash-up area and to the rinsing people in the river were carried by the carrying patrol. Maybe this was the least interesting duty of the four, but necessary nonetheless. What room for error had Cuthbert got here? Not much, except that he would probably not tie up the milk, in which case it would topple over and all float away.
The duties continued throughout the mornings, and after a few days there was enough wood, and enough pits and latrines so the pressure was off. In the afternoons we had a rest, retiring to our tents. If the weather was fine we’d have brailed up the sides and doors in the morning, and carried the individual groundsheets with the kit on them outside. Cuthbert would drag his groundsheet, thus puncturing it on a thick thistle or sharp stone, and his bedding would get wet. When the tent was empty the grass could breathe, and we could lie on our groundsheets in the sunshine.
Dan would blow the horn to signify the end of rest-time, and the beginning of bathing-time. As at school, the weaker swimmers would go first, and the clever guys would go second. At the Neuadd camp the river Ithon was very deep at one particular place, and this was our bathing-pool. But by golly was it cold. Some scouts jumped in from the ledge above, but most waded in from the shingle in the shallows. Cuthbert, of course, would forget his towel, or drop it in a cowpat on the way back.
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At the Vron camp Dan had imagined we’d be able to be refreshed by the waterfall called Water-break-its-neck, but it had been a dry summer until that very wet week, and the resultant trickle was disappointing. Consequently we wallowed in the brook, which we’d dammed up.
Later on after supper, once everything was tidy and ready for the night, the horn would sound and we’d gather round the flagpole. It signified the start of free time, but first we had to tell Dan where we were going and what we were going to do. We had approximately 2 hours till dusk and the options ranged from staying in camp, going for a walk to Alpine Bridge, climbing The Castle (the site of Cefnllys Castle) which towered above Shaky Bridge, to fishing, or even watching Dan fish. The latter was unlikely, but he did have his “favourites”.
As the dew fell at the end of a fine July evening, we would hear the horn for the last time that day and we would come running from wherever we were. Yes, Cuthbert would make it back, maybe a little bruised from having fallen down a slope, or stained from guzzling too many bilberries, but not to worry. We would fall in around the flagpole, salute as the flag was lowered and receive any final comments from Dan before finding our sleeping bags, stuffed with down, or for those without bags their blankets, which they tried to overlap. Carefully we got undressed, put on our jumpers for warmth during the night, stowed our clothing for the next day in our kitbags so it wouldn’t be dewy in the morning and made our pillows from the rest of our kit.
Cuthbert would brush the canvas sides or roof accidentally and then wonder why he had damp bedding in the morning. He would also wriggle about on his groundsheet, about 6’x2’, which was supposed to overlap his neighbour’s, and ruck it up so his bag got damp and muddy. We slept head to toe, six of us like sardines, and generally very well. Not even the cattle in the adjacent fields could disturb Cuthbert; he was the one everyone else heard snoring. We worked hard, took lots of fresh air, and were tired by bedtime. Anyone caught short in the night had to clamber over the rest of the patrol, remember where the thistles were and find the bucket, strategically placed for nocturnal bladders. Of course, it was the PL’s job to get up at the first patter of raindrops and loosen the guys and face the thistles.
The days rolled into one another, but there were three events that took us out of camp. Dan knew the area really very well and allowed the scout leaders to lead the troop on a Short Walk, usually to Llandegley Rocks. Two patrols joined together, making two groups, and each made their way, using Dan’s instructions and maps, to the summit where they’d meet up with the other group for lunch. It was about 5 or 6 miles and took from after breakfast to bathing-time, but for Dan it gave him time to himself; to fish or to paint. We made it there and back, but probably not following the route precisely. It was one of our chances to see civilisation again since our camp was particularly off-the-beaten-track.
Later on after supper, once everything was tidy and ready for the night, the horn would sound and we’d gather round the flagpole. It signified the start of free time, but first we had to tell Dan where we were going and what we were going to do. We had approximately 2 hours till dusk and the options ranged from staying in camp, going for a walk to Alpine Bridge, climbing The Castle (the site of Cefnllys Castle) which towered above Shaky Bridge, to fishing, or even watching Dan fish. The latter was unlikely, but he did have his “favourites”.
As the dew fell at the end of a fine July evening, we would hear the horn for the last time that day and we would come running from wherever we were. Yes, Cuthbert would make it back, maybe a little bruised from having fallen down a slope, or stained from guzzling too many bilberries, but not to worry. We would fall in around the flagpole, salute as the flag was lowered and receive any final comments from Dan before finding our sleeping bags, stuffed with down, or for those without bags their blankets, which they tried to overlap. Carefully we got undressed, put on our jumpers for warmth during the night, stowed our clothing for the next day in our kitbags so it wouldn’t be dewy in the morning and made our pillows from the rest of our kit.
Cuthbert would brush the canvas sides or roof accidentally and then wonder why he had damp bedding in the morning. He would also wriggle about on his groundsheet, about 6’x2’, which was supposed to overlap his neighbour’s, and ruck it up so his bag got damp and muddy. We slept head to toe, six of us like sardines, and generally very well. Not even the cattle in the adjacent fields could disturb Cuthbert; he was the one everyone else heard snoring. We worked hard, took lots of fresh air, and were tired by bedtime. Anyone caught short in the night had to clamber over the rest of the patrol, remember where the thistles were and find the bucket, strategically placed for nocturnal bladders. Of course, it was the PL’s job to get up at the first patter of raindrops and loosen the guys and face the thistles.
The days rolled into one another, but there were three events that took us out of camp. Dan knew the area really very well and allowed the scout leaders to lead the troop on a Short Walk, usually to Llandegley Rocks. Two patrols joined together, making two groups, and each made their way, using Dan’s instructions and maps, to the summit where they’d meet up with the other group for lunch. It was about 5 or 6 miles and took from after breakfast to bathing-time, but for Dan it gave him time to himself; to fish or to paint. We made it there and back, but probably not following the route precisely. It was one of our chances to see civilisation again since our camp was particularly off-the-beaten-track.
We scouts would be in full uniform and would walk past the bathing-pool to the church where we’d get a glimpse of our Mums and Dads in the opposite pews. It was a tiny church with or without an organist, and we’d sing a couple of hymns, which Dan would dominate with his booming bass voice. (His deafness affected his sense of volume!) |
_The third event was the Long Walk, which Dan led. Goodness knows where
he took us – it was quite a long way, wherever we went, presumably in
Radnor Forest. One year it was so hot and it had been so dry that we
were all gasping for a drink. He knew of many little streams that
flowed with fresh, clean water and promised us we’d have a drink before
too long, but as we found them, one by one, they were all absolutely
dry. That was the year we went up a very steep bank, covered in bracken
and bilberries and at the top Dan told us what it was called; Pant! He
used to delight in showing us a bird of prey, especially if we were
above it as it hovered or soared below us. He knew his nature very well
and told us about it, if we were interested.
_Dan always made a big effort to avoid walking along or even seeing
roads. However, this was not possible towards the end of the day since
he made sure that we landed up at the Severn Arms Hotel,
much to the surprise of the first-time scouts. Here, we were greeted
by Mrs A., who had arranged a slap-up tea for us all. Scones,
sandwiches, cakes and all sorts – it really was a treat. But it felt
strange to be in the land of civilisation. To quote Arthur Ransome in Swallows and Amazons
we were “in the land of the natives”, but by the time tea was over and
we were walking back ‘home’ to camp, we felt much more comfortable!
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The days passed by very quickly, and although the summer holidays would start as soon as we arrived back at Aymestrey, a part of us didn’t really want to leave and go home. It was that fun. But of course by the time everything was packed up, meticulously, and the Earnest Batty van had arrived, and we were on our way back the songs flowed again, and we quickly forgot how very isolated we’d been. No mobile phones, not much of a first-aid box (although we’d all passed our first-aid test), only one adult to care for all 24 of us, and no car for him to use if he’d needed one (although the farm tractor might have been available!). It hardly mattered then.
My overriding memories:
My overriding memories:
- Dan in his tweed jacket and khaki shorts
- Dan singing songs from the Gilbert and Sullivan Operettas in the shelter in the evenings as it poured with rain
- The bumpy ride in the van, sitting on the solid kit and equipment
- The success of good scouting – we were very good scouts
- Leaving the campsite with absolutely no trace of our existence apart from a few trampled paths.